chapter thirty-five

                                    

                                          
THE BED FEELS colder than it had in weeks, and when I turn on my side, I'm reminded that Greyson isn't next to me the way he has been. I've grown accustom to his warmth next to me and it leaves me feeling unsettled as I turn onto my back, staring at the roof. I want to say the feelings from last night have faded, but they haven't and I don't know what I'm mad at anymore.
Or if mad is even the right word.
Greyson comes from a family of dreamers. Every single member of his family dreams larger than life, and it pays off. I know that he's working towards his dreams, and that they're right at his fingertips, just a few steps away before he has everything. And he did it on his own. He worked for this, and he prides himself on working hard.
I love that about him.
And I'm okay with the late nights. And I'm okay with him cancelling on me.
I'm okay with it because he's at least honest with me about it, but he told me he'd be there for my family dinner last night. He promised, and then he didn't show up. And maybe I'm being dramatic. Maybe it's not as big a deal as it feels, but it hurt when I saw him on Jonas' story, at a different restaurant instead of with me like he said he would.
I want it to hurt less than it does.
I want to be more understanding than I am.
There has to be a reason he was there instead of with me, but the more I think about it, the more I realize I'm making up excuses for him. And the reality is it's beginning to feel like we only exist in the walls of this apartment. It's almost like we don't exist outside of it. We're only together when we're together, and my chest aches because I can't ignore it anymore. It's breaking my heart because as much as I try to convince myself, it's all true.
A sigh falls from my lips as I sit up in bed, running my hands over my tired skin as my eyes drift. For the last few months, this place has been my home, and the packed luggage next to my closet looms over me. We're supposed to be leaving for Malibu in a few days, but now it feels like I have a choice and neither seems appealing. Uncertainty hanging over my chest as I press my fingers into my chest plate, trying to make up my mind before exhaling.
We have so much to say and I'm afraid to start the conversation, but I know if I never do, it'll never come. We'll remain in this cycle, and maybe that'll be okay, but it won't be great and I deserve more than okay. I deserve the respect that comes with telling the truth. I deserve to not have to wait for someone to show up. I deserve to exist outside this apartment.
I want to let this just slide off my shoulders, but I can't. It's hanging over me, waiting to drop, and I won't let it destroy me the way I did in my last relationship. I've learned to keep my heart close and I know it may already be too far gone. I gave it to Greyson a long time ago, but I'm not going to just ignore the way I'm feeling either. I have to protect myself, or at least try to.
The weight of my decisions rests on my shoulder as I make my bed and get dressed, pulling on a pair of high-waisted leggings with my white spaghetti strap crop top and cropped grey hoodie. Part of me feels like I'm running, but the rest of me knows I'm doing this for both of us. For the last few months, we've been in each other's space and maybe we've rushed into things. Got too serious, too fast. Or maybe this was always meant to be short-lived.
I chew my bottom lip as I roll my packed suitcase toward the door, setting my duffle bag on top before shouldering my laptop bag and purse. It's unrealistic, but a part of me was hoping I'd open my door to Greyson still outside it but instead I'm met with an empty hallway. There's a loneliness that fills my chest, knowing that part of this feeling is my doing.
"Hey, you're up." Greyson's voice startles me as I step into the hall, turning my head to see him getting up from the couch where it looks like he's been since last night.