Count The Stars

thirty-three

        I was pacing.

        All I could do was pace back and forth in front of the door for what felt like hours. I didn't know what I was going to say or how I was going to do it, but it had to be done.

        I'd never done something like this. Usually other people left me— hurt me so bad I felt like I'd never recover. I didn't want to do that to Grace. I didn't think I would have to do the breaking up. I prepared to get my heart broken, but I never imagined it being flipped.

        That's why, when Grace rang the doorbell at exactly 5:07 PM, my fingers were an ugly shade of red and I'd paced dents into my wood floor.

        "Hello," I said as she walked into my house.

        Her signature smile was lighting up the room and I felt a pang in my heart when I thought about how she'll look without it.

        "Hey, babe," she said before wrapping me in a tight hug.

        When she pulled away, she leaned back in slowly. I turned my head away when her lips were centimeters away from mine. I almost dropped the whole thing when I looked back at her confused expression, but I knew it wasn't fair to her to keep going on.

        "I have to talk to you," I told her softly, breaking our eye contact and looking at my feet.

        She sighed. "Okay," she replied, although I barely heard it.

        We stood there, my eyes on the ground and hers anywhere but at me. I glanced up for a second and saw her blinking rapidly, her eyes turning redder by the second.

        I looked back down, my breathing speeding up.

        I made her cry. What kind of sick piece of shit am I? What if she goes and kills herself? I've practically just murdered someone

        "Ithinkweneedtobreakup," I told her, the sentence coming out like one long word right as I shoved my burning hands in my pockets.

        Then there was a beat. A really long, awkward, completely uncomfortable beat. Finally, she spoke up. "Why, Eli? I thought everything was good. Did I do something?" She asked, her voice rising an octave.

        I shook my head. "No! No, Grace this isn't you. It's my fault. I just-"

        "Are you cheating on me?"

        I ran a quivering hand through my knotted curls. "Not really...no."

        She scoffed sadly. "Not really? The fuck does that mean, Eli?"

        "I-I-I," I started, but stopped as I felt myself hyperventilating. I could feel a panic attack slowly forming like a tornado, despite my efforts to stop it. Every sound in the room became louder and more annoying, making me wince when the slightest things moved. The clock ticking over and over, never stopping, or the ear splitting buzz coming from the television that would only stop if I ripped the whole thing out of the wall. Grace's quiet sniffling suddenly became the loudest thing in the room, making me feel sick every time she coughed out a small cry. My hands flew out of my pocket and nearly made it to my ears as I tried to block out the constant sounds and loops of numbers crashing together in my head, but I stopped myself. Grace watched my with narrow eyes and furrowed brows as I shoved my hands back into my trousers.

        I didn't need to let myself scratch my arm until it was raw and bloody. I needed Adam. I needed him to play some calming music and sing the wrong lyrics while I rested my head against his chest and lest myself sink into his arms. I wasn't unsure anymore. I wasn't confused about fancying Grace or Adam or whatever kind of cheesy teenage love triangle I'd gotten myself stuck in. I was 100% sure of what I wanted.