Love In Unexpected Places ✓

Chapter Twelve

It's been two weeks since I have last seen Jean-Paul. Two long, excruciating weeks since I stared into his green eyes. Two torturous weekends without seeing his contagious smile, or hearing his infectious laughter. Two Saturdays that I haven't seen him at the coffee shop. I had begun to make going to the coffee shop a regular thing on Saturday afternoons, just so I could see him again. I feared that denying him the kiss made him feel rejected, and now he's avoiding me. I was beginning to worry if he was okay. Or even feared maybe he cut his trip short and went back home, all because of me. My heart couldn't take his absence. I needed to see him again.

My Saturdays have been very lonely without our unplanned run-ins. It's funny how someone I'd just met can become an important part of my routine. Things just didn't feel the same without Jean-Paul.

I grabbed a smoothie while I was out, then came home to clean up some clutter that I had just sitting inside of my closet. I felt like I needed a fresh start after the end of my relationship with Max, and the felt that a deep clean of my apartment was the best place to start. I went through old clothes and tossed the ones I didn't wear anymore into a pile so they could be donated to the homeless shelter. Then, I went through old books I haven't read in a while, and put them in a pile to be donated to a used bookstore.

Cleaning went by fast, and helped take my mind off of Jean-Paul. Despite my disappointment from earlier in the day, I was in a pretty upbeat mood. I had been listening to my favorite band Nickelback and dancing around my apartment, feeling reinvigorated after such a disheartening few weeks. I absolutely love helping others so donating my unwanted items would be no different.

But that mood changed instantly the moment I came across some love notes that Max and I use to write to each other.

Some of the notes contained promises to be together forever. Others showed just how much we truly cared for and loved each other. The subtle reminders of the happiness and love I once felt were like someone pouring salt into old wounds. I had tried to push what happened between Max and I into the depths of my mind but this all made the feelings come crashing back like waves crashing against the beach during a summer storm.

My heart couldn't take reading the letters any longer. I grabbed a box and threw the notes, pictures of us, and some of the things he had given me in there, throwing them to the corner of the closet so they were out of sight, out of mind. Although I didn't want to be reminded of these things, a small part of me couldn't bear to throw them away. Perhaps it is because Max was my first love, and deep down, a piece of me will always love that person, even if they did something to break your heart.

I wiped the tears from my cheeks and placed all of the old books that I no longer wanted into a box, neatly folded my old clothing, and put them into a bag to be taken to the homeless shelter.

Before moving the clothes hamper and bag into the living room to be taken to the car, I noticed another box sitting on the opposite side of the closet that I put the notes in. I took that box out and saw some of Max's old shirts and sweatshirts I use to steal from his house because, well, let's face it, sometimes men's clothing is more comfortable than female clothing. I put that box in the living room beside the couch. I needed to call him and let him know that I have some of his things. I only hoped that I wasn't too late, and that he hadn't already packed up and moved to Seattle.

I packed the box and bag that needed to be donated and put it by the door so I could grab them and take them out to the car. I grabbed my phone off of the nearby table, and scrolled through the contacts until I landed upon Max's number.

My finger hovered over his name for several minutes before clicking the compose option. I had typed, deleted, and retyped the message multiple times before I was finally satisfied. The text read: