Outside the Lines

I judged him. I made assumptions and filled in the blanks with misinformation. I let my own insecurities get the best of me, and I let Mindy fucking Abraham ruin my life, nearly ten years after high school.

You’ve won, Mindy. Again.

My chest rapidly rises and falls and I suck back a sob. I blink and shake myself, then sprint to the door. But I’m too late. Ben is already pulling out of the driveway, driving down the street. I watch, tears filling my eyes, as the tail lights of his Audi disappear.

Suddenly I can’t breath and it takes everything I have to go inside and close the door behind me. I fall onto the couch and cry. I messed up. Big time. I was so worried about getting hurt that I ended up hurting myself.

I am my own self-fulfilling prophecy.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I don’t know what to do. I wipe my eyes, sit up, and swallow a sob. My phone is in my purse, by the couch. I pick it up, madly rummage through for my phone, and call Ben. I get his voicemail. I wait a few seconds then call again. It rings once then goes to voicemail.

He hung up on me.

I close my eyes, barricading more tears, and try not to hyperventilate. He’s mad right now. Just like I was. He needs time to calm down, and he’s not even home yet. I fall back onto the couch and wait.

One minute goes by.

Then one more.

I want to call him again. Now. But it hasn’t been enough time. My heart is still pounding, and I feel sick. I fucked up. I said things out of anger and fear, things that make no sense and that I don’t really believe.

He said he thought he loved me.

And now I know that I really do love him. I fell for him even though I didn’t want to, even though I was sure he would hurt me.

I hurt him.

I hate myself for it.

And I have no idea how to make it better. I can’t take back what I said. I can’t delete this glitch, reprogram the day and start over. I bite my trembling lip and know the only thing I can do is tell Ben I’m sorry and wait for him to calm down enough to hear me out.

I call him again. Two rings then voicemail, and take a breath. The words die in my mouth and I’m hanging out without saying a word. I fall onto the couch, tears ru

I want to wake up and have everything be better.

But that doesn’t happen. Instead, I wake up hours later feeling like roadkill warmed over, with a dry mouth and a full, angry bladder. I check my phone—no missed calls—and get up to pee. I shower because that just seems to make sense. Warm water pours over me and then I’m crying again, sinking down to the shower floor.

I messed up. Again. I let my insecurities get the better of me. Two times in my life I’ve thrown something amazing away. The first time it was because I didn’t want my shitty-ass boyfriend to leave me, and now it was because I didn’t want to get hurt. So I hurt Ben instead.

I crawl out of the shower, dry off, and collapse into bed. I set my alarm for work in the morning and let sorrow and sleep pull me into darkness.

*

“Rough weekend?” Mariah asks when I sit at my desk the next day. My eyes are puffy from crying. Ben never called me back, and he never answered my calls. Things were over between us, and I wanted to be mad at him for not even trying.

But I’m not.

“You can say that,” I mumble. “Drank too much. Have a headache.” I don’t want to be short, but I think that gets my point across so she’ll leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I don’t want to explain what happened or even think about it for a second more than I have it. Because if I do, I’ll start crying again.

Ben is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. He is everything I want, and everything I need. And I didn’t just let him slip away, I opened the door and kicked him in the ass, forcing him out of my life.

I turn to my computer, not even sure what I should be doing. It takes me a few minutes to get my mind to focus, and I put everything into this new assignment. And as if the universe didn’t hate me enough, the site I’m designing is for a local wedding dress shop.

Not only is my heart broken, but I have no date for my brother’s wedding. Ben won’t be there with me, talking and dancing and secretly laughing at how Danielle freaked out over details when none of that really matters. I’ll be alone, like I’m sure I’ll be the rest of my life.

Because you don’t meet someone like Ben Hartford more than once in a lifetime.

For the first time ever, I find myself dreading the end of the day. Work goes by slowly, but it’s at least a distraction. I kept my phone on my desk all day, just in case Ben called or texted me.

He doesn’t.

And I’m not sure if I should call again. I did more than once yesterday and got nothing. I’ve been trying to convince myself he’s still just mad and this will all blow over, but when I walk to my car that evening and still haven’t heard from him, I know it’s more than that.

I want to get be mad at him and say he’s being dramatic. But really I know that he must really have meant it when he said he loved me, because only people you care for deeply can hurt you that badly.

The more you love someone, the deeper the wound. I don’t like making anyone feel bad about anything. Knowing I said things that hurt Ben’s heart kills me and makes me feel no better than Mindy fucking Abraham.

I get into my car and put my head in my hands. It’s hot in here, and I can hardly breathe. I need to turn the air on, open the windows … something. But I’m a glutton for punishment right now, punishment I deserve.

My phone rings and you’d think I had three seconds left to cut the wire on a bomb for how fast I dig that sucker out of my purse. It’s not Ben. It’s Erin, and I don’t want to answer. It’s not that I don’t want to talk to her, but I don’t want to tell her about Ben and start crying again. Because I know I will.

I feel guilty as I ignore the call. I start the car and tell myself I’ll call her when I get home, where I can ugly cry my heart out in the privacy of my own home. I keep my phone on my lap in case Ben decides to get a hold of me.

He doesn’t.

Not on the way home, not throughout di

By the time I should get ready for bed, I call Erin.

“Hey, lady,” she says, upbeat as usual. “Just wanted to make sure you got home and everything okay. You didn’t log on to any of your accounts last night.”

I close my eyes. “I know. I did make it home.”

“Uh, but everything isn’t okay?”

“No, it’s not.” Then I start crying, and tell her about the stupid fight and how I said things I shouldn’t have because I have no filter and don’t know how to stop myself when I get started. “I ruined everything,” I sob, wiping my eyes. I tuck my legs underneath myself and lean back on the couch. Ser Pouch sits next to me, offering me what little comfort his asshole self can.

“No, you didn’t,” Erin assures me. “You got in a fight. It happens. Do you know how many time Dave and I got into fights? If you do, tell me, because I lost track a long time ago. People fight, Lissy, it happens. What happens next determines your fate. Tell him you’re sorry and explain that the word vomit is a result of being insecure. I think he’ll understand.”