10 Years (Time for Love 5)

“Hey, Gwen, do you think you could drive? My head feels like it’s about to explode.”

I stood up, trying to choke down the fear and disappointment that were threatening to consume me. Did he regret what happened?

I grabbed my travel bag and tried to scoot past him so I could brush my teeth, but he stopped me by putting a han

d on my arm.

“Hey,” Craig said softly, and I knew I had to bring my eyes to his without showing too much emotion. He lifted his glasses up to look down at me, concern on his face. “What the hell happened last night? I didn’t do anything stupid, did I?”

I pasted a fake smile on and shook my head, before pulling away from his grasp and leaving the room. Once outside, I leaned against the brick wall and felt the hot burn of tears in the back of my throat.

He didn’t remember anything, I realized as the first tears spilled over. He’d said he loved me, and gave me the best night of my life, and it was nothing but a one-sided memory.

The pain was horrid, and I wanted none of it. Feeling like this didn’t do me any good, and I vowed that I wouldn’t give Craig the power to make me feel like this again. I had to get control of myself, and I didn’t know if I’d be able to go back to the way things were, now that I’d had a taste of what things with Craig could be like, so I had to guard myself, and guard my heart.

It would be better for me if I locked it away and forgot about it, just like I had with Brad and Dave. They couldn’t hurt me, if I didn’t allow them a place in my head, or my heart. I was going to have to do the same thing with Craig.

Even as my heart squeezed at the thought of losing my best friend, I knew it would be better if I let him go now, rather than continuing to love him, and giving him the opportunity to eventually destroy me.

Chapter Seventeen ~ Craig

(18 years old)

As I walked from the pitcher’s mound to the dugout, I looked up into the bleachers. It was a force of habit.

It had been months since she’d spoken to me, let alone made any attempt to be near me, so I didn’t expect her to be there. This would be the first home game she missed since I started playing serious ball.

When I scanned the crowd, my eye catching on wisps of blonde hair blowing in the wind, and a familiar camera lens pointed toward the field, my steps faltered.

She was there.

Hope surged through me. What did her being here mean? Was she ready to tell me what happened and bury the hatchet?

I’d been trying to get her to explain the cold shoulder she’d began giving me since we returned home from Orientation, but I’d only received silence.

We’d both worked at Brock’s company before school started, and our paths crossed at different family gatherings, and a couple times on campus, but Gwen wouldn’t bend.

In the beginning I’d called, texted, and begged her to tell me what was wrong, but I could only handle so much rejection … Eventually I just abided by her apparent wishes, and left her alone, even though it killed me.

I’d realized I was in love with Gwen our senior year. I’d been obsessed with dating this other chick. I don’t know why, but I think it was because she didn’t fall at my feet when I asked her out. I’d even gone so far as to attend a couple open mic nights at a local coffee shop to try and get her attention.

One time, Gwen went with me. She’d dressed in a long skirt and oversized tank top, her camera swinging around her neck, and there was something about her … a light that only Gwen exudes, that for some reason clicked with me that night. We were there to scope out this other girl for me, and all I could do was compare her to Gwen. Then I started comparing all girls to Gwen, and that’s when it hit me. I was in love with my best friend.

The person I’d always wanted had been right in front of me the whole time.

I didn’t know what to do, and suddenly didn’t know how to act around her. It was weird, and I didn’t know how to tell her what I was feeling. I was terrified that she would laugh at me, or worse, would tell me that she didn’t feel the same. So I didn’t say anything.

I worried that I said something that night we went to the frat party after I got drunk, and that’s why Gwen stopped talking to me.

Once the game was over, I hurried off the field, hoping to catch her before she left. I was putting on my jacket as I ran, and noticed her blonde head moving through the crowd.

“Gwen!” I yelled out as I weaved in and out of coeds.

I saw her pause and look over her shoulder, her expression resigned. I didn’t take that as a sign that she was about to welcome me with open arms.

“Hey,” I said when I reached her.

“Hi,” she responded as she shifted her camera bag onto her shoulder.