Meet Me By The Dock

Chapter 26

I sit on my bed and stare at my phone resting in between the folds of my fluffy white comforter.

It's been two days.

I'm psychotic.

That is the only logical explanation to why I biked home immediately after talking to the boys, sat on my bed, then tried —and failed— to distract myself from staring at my phone. But here I am anyway, staring at my phone for the past 10 minutes just waiting for it to buzz. And just waiting for the notification to read, Mattie.

And for the past 10 minutes, it hasn't.

What if he plans on avoiding me forever.

I would avoid me forever.

I never realized how accustomed I'd grown to his spontaneous messages until they were gone. I miss them. I scooped up my phone and scrolled through our past messages.

Mattie: thoughts on cats?

Me: Yes

Mattie: good, because now I don't have to type out my long prepared speech I came up with in case you said you hated them

Me: thank goodness for that

I remember sending it and then realizing I just ended our conversation. So I asked,

Me: I'm guessing you have a cat?

Mattie: I'm so glad you asked

Then he sent a long stream of photos, all containing a fluffy gray cat.

Me: You've been waiting for me to ask that, haven't you?

Mattie: I will jump at any opportunity to show off my cat

Me: Boy or girl?

Mattie: Boy

Me: What's his name

I remember three dots popping up on the screen, then disappearing, then popping up again until he finally answered.

Mattie: Mr. Darcy

Me: Omg

Me: You're lying

Mattie: I almost wish I was

I throw my phone to the other side of my bed. I'm hit with a wave of longing, what if he really never talks to me again. Panic seeps into my blood at the thought, I stamp it out quickly.

I square my shoulders, this is ridiculous. I shouldn't be sitting here waiting for him to text me, I should be doing something— I'm not sure what, but something.

For some reason, it feels like I need him to text me.

No— what I need is to get a grip. I'm Lilah freaking Grace, I'm stronger than this. I will not sit here and stare at my phone longingly waiting for some boy to text me—

My phone chimes and I lunge for it.

It's a notification from a bikini store app I downloaded months ago.

Ugh. I slam my phone back into the comforter and bury my face into my pillow. I should just text him. But what if he doesn't want to talk to me? I should just text him, and say hi and hope he says hi back. What if he reads it and ignores it. He wouldn't. He might.

I sit up abruptly and snatch up my phone. No, no, no. I will text him right now, consequences be damned.

Me: I miss you