Page 39 of Seven Summers Ago

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I hate myself enough for the both of us. But if you hated me too, I’m not sure I could live with that

Are you okay?

Rosie

No. I’m so sorry! For everything. If I could take it back I would!

I rise to my feet and pace in my darkened room, the old wood floor groaning under my bare feet. Where is this coming from? Middle of the night texting?

Are you drunk?

Rosie

Maybe a little

Great. So she’s drunk texting me.

Go to sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.

Rosie

I can’t. Not until I know you don’t hate me

I toss my head back and groan. How am I supposed to reply? I don’t hate her. I could never hate her. But am I still pissed as hell at her? Yeah. And I probably will be for a while.

She likely won’t remember talking to me. But it’s a text conversation—it will be there for her to see tomorrow.

I don’t hate you

But if you keep me up any longer I might

I have to be up in a few hours for work

Rosie

I’m sorry

I drop back onto my bed, exhaling a gravelly sigh and closing my eyes. My phone chimes again, still in my grasp.

Rosie

Tell me something Beck?

What?

Rosie

Tell me how I’m supposed to un-love you?

My eyes widen and I sit up slowly, my mind and dick suddenly wide awake. I reread the text.She still loves me?I rub a hand over my head a few times while my mind spirals. I will regret the words I’m about to type. But if she can be vulnerable, then so can I.

When you figure it out, let me know. I’ve been trying to un-love you for seven years

Rosie

Does that make us sad and damaged?

Probably

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