Except... I never wanted anyone else. Never looked.
Brayden: I'm sorry.
Now it was my turn to hesitate. My fingers started to type words born from hurt, words that would explain that sorry wasn't good enough, not when my heart had tied itself to his and he'd given every indication that he felt the same. But those words weren't fair. And they weren't who I wanted to be. I'd suffer silently, break my own heart before I'd lash out.
Me: You don't need to apologise.
Brayden: You're not upset?
I choked on a silent sob. Was that arrogance coming from him? Or was he merely checking I was okay with all this?
Me: I'm... I don't know.
He didn't reply, but he didn't go offline, and I figured he was waiting for me to elaborate. Which was hard to do when my hands were trembling. So I took a deep breath.
Me: I'm a little disappointed. But it's okay. I mean, we've never had much luck when it comes to meeting up, have we?
Brayden: Lol, no. Not really. I do still want to see you when you come home. Would that be okay?
Wow. If there was anything that suggested he didn't care as much as I did, this was it. How could he if he would be okay sitting opposite me at some coffee shop, talking casually and not wanting to reach out, to kiss me, to do all the things we’d always talked about? I swallowed hard.
Me: Sure. I'd like that.
Literally couldn't think of anything worse. Screw it. While I'm here trying to be grown-up about it...
Me: I'm happy for you, Brayden. If you like her and she likes you, then you should see where it goes.
Brayden: Thank you for understanding. You and me... we'll stay friends, won't we?
In that moment, the word friend sounded like the worst thing in the world. It was a slap in the face. A hammer to everything I thought we could have.
Me: Of course.
The first tear dripped onto my phone screen and I quickly wiped it away as if he could see it. As if he'd know. And I couldn't let him know.
Brayden: Cool. We'll talk soon, okay?
Me: Sure. Bye, Brayden.
Brayden: Bye.
I blew out another long breath before dropping my phone onto the bed beside me, that feeling of stunned numbness still strong.
I did the 'right thing'. The 'right thing' was to tell him I was happy for him. That I was pleased he'd found someone he wanted to be with.
Except it wasn't. The right thing, I mean. Because while I was wishing him well and telling him the 'right things', my heart was fracturing in my chest with every word I typed. Yes, I wanted him to be happy. That was one of the foundations of friendship – wanting the best for the person you care about. It wasn't disingenuous, but what was disingenuous was pretending that my emotions weren't fraying and my chest didn't ache with every breath I took. That I didn't still want him as much as I did that very first time I saw his face. Heard his voice. Pictured us together.
But what good would telling him do? If he wanted to be with her, me telling him I was hurting wasn't going to change anything. He'd pity me for getting too attached to someone I never really knew. Sure, he'd feel bad for a while, but then he'd see her, and it wouldn't matter anymore.
I wouldn't matter.
The twist in my guts prompted another downfall of tears, and as I watched each splash drip onto my duvet, I hated myself. I hated the feelings I had. I hated that I'd gotten my hopes up for nothing. I hated that I'd allowed myself to believe that this was real. That someone like him would ever be interested in someone like me. I hated Becky for ever mentioning his name.
I hated that girl.
But him? I couldn't hate him.
Is that what love is? Knowing that, no matter how much someone hurt you, you still only want the best for them? God, how much easier would it have been if he was an asshole? If he'd been malicious and said something appalling about how he was just using me until someone better came along. But even if he had said it, he wouldn't have meant it. That wasn't who he was. I wouldn't have fallen for someone like that.