Page 85 of Barron's Second Chance
"Don't be daft; you're not gonna lose me, love," he insisted.
For a long time, they simply held each other tightly. Eden's heart bled when she thought of all the times after they had broken up when she would casually tease him about when he would settle down with a steady girlfriend - not knowing that he carried an unrequited love for her.
"Listen," Josh pulled back, wiping the wetness from her eyes. "Barron's a decent bloke. I may have only spent a few hours with him, but I can see how much that man loves you. He couldn't take his eyes off you all night." His mouth kicked up in a smile. "Besides, anyone who's a fan of Man U is a class act in my book," he joked, conjuring a shaky smile from her.
"He may have cocked it up the first time, but he's pulled his head out. He's mad about you. Anyone can see that."
Eden sniffled but didn't respond.
"And I know you well enough to know that you're a bit keen on him, too." He stared into her devastated face. "Probably a little more than keen."
Eden shook her head, feeling overwhelmed by all the heavy bombshells heaped on her tonight. She wanted to analyze with Josh some more, but she was already feeling a tad awkward about his revelation. She did not doubt that if he hadn't confessed his feelings for her, she would've made them a cup of tea and poured her heart out to him about the whole mess. She didn't want to prolong Josh's torment at having to counsel the woman he had just confessed to being in love with.
Josh must've sensed that she needed a moment to herself, so he patted her shoulder affectionately.
"Anyway, that's my good deed for the year done. I'm knackered. I'll see you in the morning, love."
With one last squeeze of her shoulder, Josh strode out of the room, leaving her alone with her unsettled thoughts.
Eden padded to her bedroom, going straight for her wardrobe. She moved old boxes out of the way until she came across a black and white striped shoebox. She smiled fondly as she traced the dusty paper she had taped on the front.
Eden + Barron 4eva
She lifted the worn lid and was instantly greeted with her homemade shell and macaroni-decorated picture frame. She lifted it out and wiped away the gathered dust, obscuring part of the photo.
It was a selfie taken at his pool on some hot summer's day. God, they were so young. So in love and naive.
She set the picture aside and stared at the remaining contents.
Ticket stubs toTwenty One Pilots- their first concert, movie tickets, an old rusty ring he had won for her at some vending machine, love notes they had passed to each other during class.
She scrunched her face in disgust as she picked up a ripped condom packet. Jesus, she really was sentimental if she kept the condom packet from the first time they had sex. Gross.Thatshe could get rid of.
As Eden rifled through the various mementos she kept, she was surprised at how calm she felt. She honestly thought that looking through their memories would bring sadness, pain, and anger. Instead, she felt a sweet nostalgia, a pining for the scattered happy moments she shared with Barron. Everything she did, everything she was, had been tied up with him.
Eden truly believed that they were meant to break up. But now, she was starting to wonder if maybe their paths were always meant to lead back to each other.
19
No Labels, No Promises
Thereweren'tmanythingsin life that made Barron nervous. He always somehow radiated confidence. Facing an opposing team before a soccer match? No problem. Public speaking? Piece of cake. Taking a risk and opening The Homestead when he had no idea if it would succeed? Okay, he had an anxious energy when it came to that. But it was more excitement than anything.
But after he came home from Eden's, Barron immediately started pacing. His palms were sweaty, his heart had palpitations, and a heavy fucking rock sat low in his stomach. He couldn't eat as everything tasted like cardboard in his mouth, and he checked his phone no less than twenty times in the space of fifteen minutes.
He wondered if he should force himself to vomit in case that would expel the lumbering ache in his throat.
This, he had never experienced.
He went back and forth in his head on whether he had shot himself in the foot. It was Eden's pain that he was digging up. He could see that he was making her uncomfortable and angry, and in hindsight, he shouldn't have pushed her.
He groaned aloud as he hit his head against the headrest on his lazy boy. He was a fucking selfish idiot.
Hearing how much Eden had suffered in the aftermath of their relationship cut him deep. He’d shed a few more tears on the drive back to his apartment, and he went to bed that night with images of Eden drinking herself to oblivion.
She had been looking for love and acceptance from whoever and whatever she could find. He had nightmares of her mixing with unsavory people who obviously didn't give a shit about her. He saw his precious Eden waking up to some nameless asshole, the picture of her in his mind looking hollowed and devastated. It shattered him.
After a restless night, he woke at 5 am and decided to get his day started. Apparently, that consisted of him making a coffee that had gone cold on his table and sitting on his lazy boy staring off into space.
