Part 9

I stopped and glanced at Leo’s door. It’d been almost 8 months since we’d broken up and I hadn’t seen him. I knew he hadn’t moved because I’d heard him walking around in his apartment in the middle of the night. We’d both gone back to being unable to sleep. I guess it was because I’d been off my meds so long, but they didn’t work anymore, which was totally crappy since I’d used sleep the first night to forget what happened and not feel like the worst person ever.

I unlocked my door and walked inside. I dropped my bag on the floor and stared at the box of things I’d found on my doorstep a couple of months before. It contained our whole lives together, from 2 years old to 27. What made today feel exponentially worse was that it was my birthday.

He’d made crazy extravagant plans for us to go out, but obviously, those fell through the moment I cheated on him.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, his was tomorrow, and the gift I bought him sat neatly wrapped in the middle of my coffee table. I’d completely forgotten about it, but it was on my desk the other morning when I got to work. One of my coworkers made it for me and thought she was doing me a favor by wrapping it, too. I’d told her it was for my sister because there was absolutely no way I could admit it was mine.

I moved from my doorway, kicking the door shut, and sat on my couch to stare at the present. It was covered in pink stripped wrapping paper and pink ribbon. I cringed at the abundant use of the girly color. I guess a normal person that bought this would have liked it.

I picked it up and held it on my lap, picking at the ribbon. I should’ve added this to the box of stuff from Leo’s place. There was a reason I never took anything out of that box, and it was probably the same reason he put the things in it in the first place: it hurt to look at them.

The day we broke up went by in a total haze. Instead of going to my apartment, Ryan took me to his. He held me the whole time I cried, whined, screamed, kicked, and punched. He was the complete opposite of how he behaved the night before. He didn’t try anything. He didn’t even say anything bad about me or Leo. He was considerate and nice. He let me sleep in his bed, while he slept on the couch. He was, in fact, a total gentleman. The next morning, he made me breakfast and we talked. I found out he was serious about liking me, but we agreed that following through with anything wasn’t what I needed then. We also agreed that it would be impossible for us to be friends, so that was the last time we saw each other.

So, I was back to being friendless and boyfriendless, and yeah, it felt even shitter than before. I missed Leo a lot, even though I had no right to. Knowing this, it still hurt to not crawl into bed and fall asleep in his arms after a crappy day at work. I missed the way his lips felt on mine, so soft and gentle with all his love behind them. I missed the way his hands danced over my skin making me feel treasured. I missed the way he made me happy. I missed him.

I felt the tears start to form in my eyes and I instantly wiped them away. I refused to sit here and feel sorry for myself. It was my goddamn birthday. I needed a drink and I needed to get laid.

I stood and carried the box with me to my room. I was making use of this gift. Happy birthday to me.

<Part 8          |         Part 10>


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