'Did you come around here just to start a fight? Drop dead.'
Sam's difficulty with relationships stems all the way back to his adolescence. He hasn't had it easy growing up in the Northeast of England but he managed to escape his teens unscathed. Mo...
My phone hadn't stopped ringing for days. I had locked myself away in my room for almost a week now, purposefully ignoring Sam, not so purposefully my other friends, going as far as to fake an illness to stay off school. I couldn't help it. My anger hadn't mitigated itself at all and not only did I not want to take it out on them, but I had unconsciously isolated myself, trapped in my thoughts. It was an endless nightmare, Sam's words replaying endlessly in my head.
I'm not gan sit back and watch you kill yourself.
My mind was screaming that he was being dramatic, making a mountain out of a molehill, but deep down, there was a tiny voice screaming that he was right. It was a voice I was suppressing. Hard. I knew it didn't reflect my true thoughts. It was my heart speaking, the feelings that longed to be back in Sam's arms, not having to yearn for his comfort. There was that part of me that would have done anything to please him, even if it meant admitting to a problem I didn't have, but it was mowed down by my anger at him.
My phone pinged once more, my eyes finally straying over to glance at it, my curiosity finally getting the better of me. It was Sam. Of course, it was.
Please call me back, Aurora. I'm worried about you, no one's heard from you all week x
Ping.
Let us know you're alive at least
Ping.
Please can we talk? You're my best girl, I don't want to lose you
Ping.
I love you
Against my better judgement, I grabbed my phone and dialled his number, my heart winning the war against my thoughts.
"Rory?" Sam's voice whispered through the speaker, his tone hopeful.
"Sam," I muttered, wrapping my arms around myself subconsciously, even though he couldn't see me.
"Are y'alreet? Where have ya been? We're all worried about ya," he rambled frantically.
"I'm fine," I told him stonily.
"Oh," he coughed.
"What do ya want, Sam?" I asked him with a huff. It was a far cry from the internalised agony I was feeling at hearing his voice for the first time in a week.
"I- um, I wanted to talk, can we talk?" he stammered.
"We are," I deadpanned, bringing my thumb to my mouth to chew on my nail to appease the anxiety I felt.
"I-I mean in person," he sighed. "Can we meet?"
"Not if we're gan have the same conversation as last time," I mumbled.
"Rory-"
"I mean it, Sam," I told him firmly, cutting him off and setting my boundaries immediately.
"Reet," he muttered. "I just want to talk... I miss you."
"I miss you, too," I whispered after a moment of trawling over his words, taking in a shaky breath as my eyes fluttered shut. I was desperately trying to stop the floodgates from opening. "Fine. Meet me at the beach tonight."
"My shift finishes at eight," he informed me, his voice lighter than it had been a few seconds prior. "Meet ya at half past?"
"See ya then," I smiled softly, ending the call with a soft click.
Was I going to regret this? That was the question.
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Yes. Apparently, I was.
It was nearing ten o'clock and I had been checking my phone every five minutes, desperately hoping that there would be something from Sam. My bottom lip was bleeding from what I could tell, a metallic taste flooding my mouth as I chewed at the delicate skin. My nose was streaming like a river, probably because it was about two degrees out and I had been waiting for Sam for almost an hour and a half now.
I sighed as I dialled Sam's number for the twentieth time that night, letting out a groan of frustration when it reached his voicemail once again. I don't know why I was expecting anything different, he hadn't picked up the previous nineteen times, so why would he now?
"Sam, it's me. Where are you? I've been here since half eight like we agreed and there's no sign of you and it's cold and it's dark and..." I rambled, cursing myself internally as the tears started flowing. A garbled sob escaped my mouth despite my best efforts to keep it contained, my finger immediately hitting the end button, lest Sam heard my cries. I brought my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them and resting my head on them as I broke down into a fit of sobs.
What was I doing?
Why was I here?
It was winter. It was freezing. It was ten o'clock at night. And here I was, sitting waiting for my ex-boyfriend, who, might I add, begged me to talk. An hour and a fucking half. And he stood me up.
My sadness turned sour, a bitter laugh escaping from my lips as I furiously wiped away the tears from my cheeks. He wasn't worth them. I didn't bother to check my phone again as I stood up from the cold sand, my back turning on the beach as I made the short journey home.
What had been one of my favourite places just a few months ago was slowly starting to chart higher and higher on my list of most hated. It was quite sad really, especially because of the multitude of happy memories that it held, tainted by the rollercoaster of what was our relationship.
