Was I a fool for thinking someone like Trev could give me the love and consistency I wanted? Needed?
Maybe I was. Maybe I just had to get over this pipe dream of him being the perfect boyfriend and realise it was never going to happen. Trev was the boy you loved who never noticed you existed. I needed to love a boy who would make me his entire world.
The next morning, I brought my phone to the repair shop, but it was going to be a few days before it was fixed. In the meantime, I couldn’t afford a burner so I just had to do without. It drove me mad wondering if Trev had been trying to call me, but then again, maybe he hadn’t. I told him we were done. Perhaps I made it easy for him to simply let things lie and focus on what really mattered to him. His career. Now I could fade away and he could fully embrace his new life.
Maybe that was for the best.
“Unfortunately, the SIM was damaged, so we had to give you a new one,” said the repair guy as he slid my phone across the counter and rang up the cost. “But you can still keep your old number.”
I blinked and swallowed. “Oh, right. That’s, uh, that’s good.”
But a part of me was disappointed, because now I would be able to see if Trev tried calling. I would be able to listen to his messages. If he bothered to leave any. It might have been less painful to simply not know. Veins twisted in my heart, because even though I wanted him to want me, I wasn’t sure I had it in me to try again. To hope.
When I got home and powered my phone on, I tapped my fingers on the table top, anxious. A few seconds later it came alive, buzzing with missed calls and texts. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling a panic attack coming on. After a few deep breaths, I managed to stave it off. Most of my missed calls were from Trev. They were accompanied by a string of messages spread over the last few days.
Answer your phone. Please. xxx.
We need to talk, Reya. Don’t shut me out.
I love you so bloody much.
Can you please just answer your phone?
Reya, I’m begging you. Don’t do this.
If I have to hear your voicemail one more time I’m going to lose my shit.
Really? REALLY? This is how you’re going to end things? I never took you for a coward.
My heart rate rose higher and higher the further I scrolled through his messages. Then it came to a crashing thud when I reached the final one.
Fine. If this is what you want I’ll leave you alone. Have a nice life.
The finality of his words cut me to the quick. I knew if I’d had my phone the last few days I’d have answered one of those many missed calls. I wasn’t strong enough not to. But maybe this was for the best. Talking to him would only suck me back in. I couldn’t rely on myself to think logically when it came to Trev. This clean break meant I wouldn’t have to test the strength of my conviction. Not seeing or talking to him would make it easier to stay strong.
In spite of this determination, I felt almost as low as I had when I left my parents’ house at eighteen; shunned, rejected, worthless. But I didn’t have the luxury of wallowing. I had to go out and earn money, otherwise my life really would fall into the gutter. I couldn’t afford to stay in bed for days, nursing my bruised heart.
I had to go out there and live.
After all, I’d survived worse.
About two weeks later I was busking in Soho, taking advantage of the tourist crowd, while I sang song after song about heartache. It was my only theme lately. I was probably depressing the crap out of my audience, but there was still a decent bit of cash in my hat. I guess everyone could relate to sadness in some way.
I was midway through a cover of “Elastic Heart” by Sia when I caught sight of a familiar face in the crowd. Trev stood outside a shop on the other side of the street, crowds of people passing by while his blue eyes stayed locked on me. The song was oddly appropriate.
Fire scored my veins.
Lack of air suffocated my lungs.
Pain consumed my heart.
But I never faltered. I pounded the keys with force, sat up straight and stared right through him. Then I closed my eyes and sang with everything I had inside. When I opened them again, he was gone.
Well, I thought to myself, I guess that’s that.
We’re done.
Twenty-Two.
I woke up wrapped in Trev’s arms for the first time in two years, and it was somewhat jarring. After our heart-to-heart last night, we lay down to watch a movie on his laptop and ended up falling asleep. His scent filled my nose and his front pressed flush to my back. I twisted a little in his arms to find he was already awake.
“Hey,” I murmured, tensing at his focused expression. It looked like he was thinking about something intently. Goosebumps claimed my skin.
“Morning,” he replied, his voice a tired, husky rasp.
His arm was draped over my middle, his injured hand raised up above his head. “Uh, how’s your hand?”
“Sore.”
“Yeah, it’ll probably be a while before it starts to feel better.” I moved to get up but his good hand held me in place.
“Don’t go yet,” he whispered and I stilled. I didn’t know what to say so I simply lay there. It was probably a bad idea sleeping with him last night, but how could I not? He owned my heart. I loved being in his arms. His hand flattened out on my stomach and butterflies flooded my insides. I moved my hips ever so slightly and heard a sharp inhale of breath.
“Trev! Barry’s coming over for a meeting. He’ll be here in ten minutes, so get your arse up,” came Paul’s voice as he banged on the door.
I immediately shifted away. Glancing across the room I saw that Callum’s bed was empty. I flushed at the thought of him coming in last night and finding Trev and me asleep together.
Trev sat up, his hair sticking out in every direction. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”
I tugged the duvet around myself and watched as he pulled on some jeans and a clean T-shirt. While he was distracted spraying his underarms with deodorant I slipped out of the room. Thankfully, my room was empty. I headed into the en-suite and turned the shower on, enjoying the hot spray on my weary body. When I was clean and dressed in some leggings and a light, flower-print summer dress, I joined everyone in the living area.
Barry sat on an armchair talking to the group. A few crewmembers were there, too, but they weren’t filming. I noticed Isaac in the kitchen making tea and gave him a nod. The mood in the apartment was tense and stress radiated from Barry like a tangible force.