How to choose the one

What now

Ellis

For the millionth time I look at the message, hoping like the fool I am, that I have read it incorrectly or made a mistake. I want it to say he had a girlfriend or I am his girlfriend. But when I click open the literal worst message I have ever received, it still says he has a girlfriend.

And it's not me.

Fuck. Me.

Bayne has an actual, in the present tense, girlfriend.

I know nothing more, but that is enough to make me physically wretch over and over and have nothing but guilt and regret and a fuck load of embarrassment spew forth from last night.

I'm so tired but I can't sleep. I don't even think I was able to close my eyes last night for more than twenty seconds at a time without wanting to crawl out of my skin with guilt. And the crazy thing is? I haven't actually done anything wrong on purpose.

I didn't know there was another girl involved. I didn't set out to hurt anyone. But I can't help feeling as though I have. I have wronged this girl. And I have wronged myself. I let the pom poms drop big time.

I haven't moved from the position I'm stuck in since I got home yesterday. I have been sitting in the same place, stewing in the same clothes, going over and over the same horror filled message.

Bayne has an actual, in the flesh girlfriend. And it's not me. We slept together. I lost my virginity. But he is in a relationship. With someone else.

What an ass. What an actual fact dirty ass of a guy.

No wonder the girls around here hate him.

This is the thing isn't it? What they were all silently warning me about, without actually telling me. The mocking tone my subconscious takes on kicks my brain around inside my head, using the hurt to fuel the guilt I feel. I thought he was a player. A seasoned professional in picking up girls, for sure. But I never thought he was this low. Is this what he does? Cheats on her like this? How often? Am I one of many suckers taken in by the whole show?

What a dog.
And how much of a cliche idiot am I?

That poor girl. I wonder if she is here? Surely not. She would know right? It's too small a place not to.

And then suddenly realisation hits me and the urge to throw up gets stronger with each revelation.

The apartment. The pictures. The girl at the cafe.

That was her. Of course she doesn't go here. She just visits and picks up her relationship where she left it, none the wiser when she visits, not knowing what he is up to when she is gone. He plays the dutiful, loving boyfriend and then she is gone and he turns fuck boy all over again.

The tears stream down my face, out of my control now, pooling in my lap along with what's left of my dignity.

The hurt I feel is indescribable but the embarrassment is worse. I fell for his charm. The act. The smile. The whole thing. I can see it all now. It's practised. Finessed. I bet he even has a type he goes for.

Stupid. Easy. Idiot freshman like me.

The wretching returns but this time my stomach contents threaten to follow and I lurch myself towards the bathroom just in time to let it out into the toilet bowl.

I hear a knock at the dorm door but I ignore it, sinking to the bathroom floor to wallow some more instead.

The knocking turns to pounding and then I hear a familiar high pitch voice calling my name;