Page 27 of His Shy Girl

It just felt like he was embarrassed to have me there. He even told me at the end of the night that he probably shouldn’t have invited me. It was like he realized too late what a mistake it was bringing me out in public. Now, come Monday, everyone will be making fun of him for dating me. And come Tuesday, I might be ghosted.

My mom takes my hands, giving me a squeeze. “Look, sweetie, if you’re worried about how he feels, talk to him. Ask him if there was something bothering him this evening. But I honestly think that once you get some rest, you’ll realize you were overreacting. I think you were probably just caught up in your nerves and the adrenaline of going to your first party and were reading too much into things. But I think everything will be okay.” She leans forward and kisses the top of my head. “It’s late, sweetie. We both need our beauty rest. So, just sleep on it. I think everything will look brighter in the light of day.”

I’m not sure I’ll be able to fall asleep tonight. And I can’t talk to him. That’s part of the problem. And even if I could, is he really going to tell me the truth? In spite of everything, Brennon’s a really nice guy. It was even more apparent tonight with the way his friends worship him. He’s a good person, and it’s not like he’s going to tell me he felt embarrassed when he introduced me to his friends and I couldn’t even sputter out a hello.

“Night.” I get the word out, and it’s the first time all night I didn’t struggle. I wish when it mattered most my voice could’ve been smooth.

“Good night, sweetheart.”

She gives me a kiss goodnight, and the loneliness settles in. I hate being left alone with my pain, wondering what I shoulddo. The last thing I want is to ruin his reputation or for him to change. His light was definitely dim tonight, and that was on account of me. I don’t want to bring him down. And he’s too nice to break up with me. Which means…I’m going to have to do it myself.

I’m going to have to let him go.

18

Brennon

It’s almost three o’clock in the morning and she still hasn’t texted me back. I don’t even know if she made it home okay. But I’m guessing by the fact that it shows my message has been received and read that she did. I’m not okay though. I’m fucking nervous as all get out and getting antsier by the minute. The thought of losing her is fucking crushing me.

Me:Hey, babe. Me again. Really starting to get worried about you. Please let me know that you made it home safe. Otherwise, I might need to drive over there and see for myself.

I may get in my car anyway. Wait outside her house until the sun rises and then knock on her door.

The message goes through—received and…opened. She’s reading it, which means she’s awake. But as the seconds tick by, no response comes back. Twenty-three nerve-wracking minutes later, a text finally comes in.

My girl:I’m home. I’m sorry I forgot to text. And I’m sorry about tonight. It was a lot for me. I have a really hard time in new situations. I know it made you uncomfortable, and I’m sorry for embarrassing you. I’ve been thinking about things for the last few hours, realizing that we are complete opposites. I don’t know if we make sense honestly. I think you’re an amazing guy, Brennon, and I really care about you. But long term, I just don’t think things will work out between us. I’m sorry.

There have been a few moments during a game where I was slammed so hard in the chest, it almost felt like I was going to die. The wind got knocked out of me. My heart was pounding so hard, racing toward what felt like an attack, and I nearly blacked out. The darkness was closing in around me. But the pain and fear I felt never even came close to what I’m feeling now. It’s like my heart is being ripped right from my chest. My soul is being torn to fucking shreds.

This is what I was afraid of. The guys just had to run their mouths, telling her how I ran through the girls’ locker room naked, streaking the cheerleaders. It was a fucking dare but of course they left out the details of the wager. Or how I shat myself during a game. I had a fucking stomach bug, and it hit me when I got tackled. It’s not like I popped a squat and did it in hopes of trying to be funny. I was fucking sick.

Then all the guys had to point out how I’m a pro-drinker, the champion at beer pong, so now she thinks I’m some kind of guzzling party animal ready to get to college and throw ragers. How the fuck would the guys like it if I highlighted all their embarrassing moments right in front of their girls? Now Willow thinks I’m some kind of jackass and she doesn’t want to be with me.

Why the fuck can’t I breathe? And why the hell is it so hot in this fucking room?

I grab my keys and rush outside, needing air. Needing to take a drive—straight to her house. I want to tell her that she’s wrong. She thinks we’re complete opposites, but what about all our conversations? All the things we have in common? Football, video games, our families. Our likes and dislikes. What about the connection between us? I’ve never felt any kind of spark with anyone else. It’s fucking electric. And I know she feels it too.

My eyes try to focus on the road, but the lines are a little blurred. Fuck, I can’t lose her. I’m in fucking love with her. And how could she think for one second that she embarrassed me tonight? I felt like a bastard for everyone putting her on the spot and making her nervous. I was trying to do most of the talking so she didn’t have to, but I was not embarrassed. I could never be embarrassed by her.

I pull onto her road, looking at the time on my dash. It’s nearly four in the morning. It’s not like I can ring her doorbell. Her parents are asleep.

I climb out of my truck and walk around the side of her house, seeing her bedroom light off. But there’s a glow coming through the window. She’s probably playing on her computer. I should’ve logged on and reminded her of how much fun we have together.

I pull out my phone, shooting off a text.

Me:Can we talk?

My message is immediately opened. She’s definitely still awake.

My girl:My voice isn’t working tonight. Besides, this is already hard enough, Bren. I don’t want it to hurt more.

But that’s just it. It doesn’t have to hurt. I’m not that guy. I’m not the guy they painted me out to be. I’m me. The same guy she’s been chatting online with for months.

Me:If you want me to blast my stereo and pull a move fromSay Anything, I will. But I’m trying to respect your parents, babe. Please come out. There are a few things I want to tell you.

I watch her window, waiting for her to look out, and there she appears. Her eyes growing as big as the moon when she sees I wasn’t lying. She disappears and I walk back around, waiting by her door for her to show. The minutes pass by and my body is near freezing. It’s cold out here, and it wasn’t like I grabbed a jacket on the way out.

“I-i-it’s s-s-so c-c-cold,” she says as she opens the door and gets blasted by the chill.

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