Page 43 of Left on Base

My throat tightens and I can feel my heartbeat in it. Painfully so. Like my heart decided to relocate to my esophagus. “Oh, yeah.” I clear my throat and attempt to act nonchalant. “I... heard that.” I’m not nonchalant. Not even close.

There’s apprehension in her eyes. Or maybe it’s nervousness. I’m not sure. But then she breathes out slowly before asking, “You don't mind?”

Yes, I fucking mind. Stop talking to him! Actually, stop talking to me about talking to him! My internal screaming is reaching frequencies only dogs can hear.

“Nah,” I lie. I’m rather impressed with how well the lie comes out. Smooth and not catty at all. Someone give me an Oscar because I deserve it. “It’s fine. He can talk to anyone he wants to.”

She continues on like we’re friends. “Oh, okay, so we’re talking but like now he’s dry. And he hasn’t texted me much.” Her brow pinches together and a faint blush spreads over her cheeks. “And if I text him, he takes so long to reply, or doesn't at all.”

There’s a lump in my throat I can’t seem to clear, even though I keep trying. Like I swallowed a golf ball and it’s stuck there. “Since when?”

“Like Tuesday? Well, he replied once or twice, but it wasn’t the same. I texted him a few times yesterday, and then today, and he hasn’t replied.” Her brows pull together and it’s the first hint of sadness I’ve noticed on her. She likes him. Maybe even a lot, and while I do feel bad for her, I don’t have anything to offer her. Except maybe a one-way ticket to Antarctica. “Is he ghosting me?” She leans forward, as if she’s completely enthralled in understanding the situation with them. “Should I stop trying to text him? I just, well, I really like him.” She pauses and sighs, her shoulders slumping forward. “I…” She’s struggling to find the words, her lips flat with disappointment—in him, herself, me, I have no idea—but I do feel a tug at my heart that she’s confused too. “I never thought a guy like him would like me.”

I hear everything she’s saying, but I’m more focused on the time frame she gave me. My brain is doing math faster than it ever has in calculus.

Tuesday.

The day he texted me after the hockey game. The next day we had sex in his uncle’s condo and he hasn’t replied to her since then? My stomach does this weird flip that’s half excitement, half guilt, and maybe a dash of nausea for good measure.

Trying to keep the excitement from my tone, I look down at the table between us. “What did he say that was dry?” Real smooth, Cam. Why don’t you ask to read their entire conversation history while you’re at it?

To my surprise, she immediately unlocks her phone and shoves it in my face. “Well, like this.”

My heart jumps into my throat when I see the picture she has for his contact at the top of their message feed. It’s one of him I’ve never seen, in a game, catching. His arm is pulled back and you can see all the muscles and veins and it’s hot as fuck. It doesn’t even bother me that she has this picture of him. I think what sucks is that I haven’t seen it yet.

He never sent it to me, and we used to send selfies every day. She has a piece of him that I don't. The thought makes my chest ache in a way that’s becoming way too familiar lately.

All I can say is I feel very uncomfy right now and I might be having a panic attack. Like, full-on, someone-please-hand-me-a-paper-bag-to-breathe-into panic attack.

“So? Do you think he’s being dry and ghosting me?”

“I... uh....” I don’t know what to say. My brain has officially left the building. It’s probably in Antarctica with those penguins by now.

My entire body feels as if there’s a weight on me. It’s like my bones are made of bricks and even if I wanted to get up, I can’t. I take a deep breath to keep myself from hyperventilating and read through their messages from last week before he texted me after the hockey game.

She’s texted him a ton, but his answers are pretty short and usually not right away. He waited hours to text her back, which, if he’s busy, isn't abnormal. I glance at the dates and times and know he wasn't at practice or in class, so he was probably ignoring her. She texted him the night we were at Kellan’s. He replied two days later with three short words.

Sorry, busy lately.

As I scroll up, I notice one from the week he told me they were talking. He sent a goodnight text with a sleeping face emoji like he used to send me. I see flashes of us as kids and the texts I’d get from him after games. The cute emojis he’d send and the sad face if I didn’t get a chance to send him one.

Ima be real with you. There’s a sad Taylor Swift song playing in my head and I think my heart dropped out of my ass when I see his goodnight text. It was weeks ago but it doesn’t matter. The feeling sucks so bad. I knew they were talking, I did, but the reality of seeing it weighs more than I ever thought it would. For a moment, I can't move. I stare at her phone and I can't fuckingmove. I don't know how to answer her or what to say. Blood rushes to my ears and it's like I’m drowning. Someone should install a life preserver in this room for emotional emergencies.

A sharp pain hits my chest and I immediately hand Inez her phone back. Like it’s burning me. Which, emotionally, it kind of is.

I’m pissed. I hate that he’s even talking to her, or was, or whatever. My emotions are doing this weird dance between jealousy, anger, and something that feels suspiciously like hope. It’s like an emotional mosh pit in my chest.

I swallow hard and it feels like I'm trying to gulp down sand, and my eyes start to burn with tears. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t you dare fuckiung cry in front of this girl who has Jaxon’s catching photo saved as his contact picture.

“So, like, what do you think?”

I hate this. I fucking hate it. “He's tired.” The lie comes out smoother than I expected, considering my internal organs are currently trying to reorganize themselves.

“Wait, what?” Her eyes drop to her phone, and then back up to me. She squints and tips her head to the side, as if she’s baffled I knew this by his texts. “How can you tell?”

“By his answers.” My voice sounds steadier than I feel, which is a miracle considering I’m pretty sure I’m having an out-of-body experience right now.

“Oh.”

---