Chapter Forty-One

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Mia Collins had been blowing up my phone all weekend. In the past, I would have seen this as a great thing, an extraordinary, rare dream come true. But not anymore. Each voicemail, each missed call, every blasted text message that came through branded the memory of what she'd said in my mind like a red-hot iron against warm skin.

For each one, I was brought back to the moment, when the girl I trusted so foolishly, so naively, looked me in the eyes and tried to hurt me in the best way she knew how. It was a memory that would stay with me forever.

It had only taken an hour or so after she'd left my house before she realized her mistake, and for the notifications to start coming in.

Her first attempt was phone call spamming. This consisted of lighting my phone up with about a dozen phone call attempts, none of which I picked up.

Her second strategy was to drown me with apologetic self-deprecating text messages. She called herself a bitch about a hundred times over and wrote lengthy paragraphs apologizing for every last hurtful word she said. I deleted each one as efficiently as they came in with deadened emotionless eyes. For each message, I found myself getting angrier, not better.

Her third strategy was bargaining. Shamefully, the most interesting one. Here, Mia started offering to do favors for me. She offered to cook for me, to clean for me, to be my personal servant. An hour into spamming me with this, she clearly started to lose her mind as she started asking me if lingerie or nude photos would help earn her forgiveness.

I admit, I had hesitated a minute or so before I went right back to deleting the messages. If I had any sense, I would have blocked her, instead of letting myself go through this rare form of mental torture.

Then, her last fourth strategy of the weekend was to show up at my house with no warning. There was a knock at the door, and when I looked out the window to check, that's when I saw her.

She was standing on my porch, her dark hair pulled back into a single braid. It stung to see, bringing bitter memories back of when I first saw her on that first day of school with those two little braids. The memory felt almost mocking now, like a joke.

Like an idiot, I watched her the whole time like a fool from the window, my heart thumping away. Not in the foolish love-sick way it normally did, but in a painful way – an exhausting one.

I watched her anxiously crack her knuckles four times as she waited for someone to answer, and I watched her pace. Her brown eyes spun and looked around the house as she waited, and soon enough our door opened.

I stiffened, knowing my mum was there. I hadn't had the heart to tell her what Mia had said, but she still heard the yelling and I had consulted with her long enough for her to know I wanted Mia nowhere near me.

With a locked jaw, I watched as my mum blabbered some kind of excuse to Mia for why she couldn't come in. Mia nodded, and smiled stiffly but from all the way up here, I could still see the brokenness behind her eyes, the weakness.

My heart squeezed briefly as I looked at her, and for a second, I wanted to take everything back. To call her upstairs, to kiss her, to tell her I forgive her.

That's when Mia's eyes flickered up to stare up at my window, and then as we locked eyes, I was reminded of her words and how callously she had said them. Like that any hope of forgiveness was gone. I'd never forgive her, not now, not ever. I quickly pulled down the shades and turned away, not letting myself look at her any longer.

At that moment, I promised myself I would do all I could do to make sure I never felt anything for Mia Collins again.

Now it was Monday. By some miracle I had managed to get myself dressed, and ready after spending the weekend shut up in my room, and now I was marching my way with a scowl through the school corridor.

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