Page 73 of Going the Distance
I let Levi pull me up and set his jacket on the bench, putting my arms around his shoulders. Levi’s hands held my waist, and we swayed side to side.
I couldn’t help but compare him to Noah. The arms around me weren’t as strong, the shoulders not as broad. There was no heat, no spark, no tension between us; no desire to pull myself flush against him, like I was used to feeling with Noah, nothing that made me catch my breath and lean to kiss him. But there was something soft and sweet about it. Something comfortable and easy.
The song was almost over, and so was the dance—but while it lasted, it wasnice.
• • •
I groaned, rolling over and burying my face in my pillow. My head hurt. My feet hurt. My throat hurt. I pulled my face out of the pillow, remembering the night before—Sadie Hawkins, dancing with Levi…
At the after-party, I’d had maybe one too many beers and had sat outside moaning to Dixon and Cam about how much I missed Noah, and how I shouldn’t have broken up with him, and how much I hated that bitch Amanda for coming between us and being everything I wasn’t—and, apparently, everything Noah was looking for—and how much of an asshole Noah was for hiding things from me.
I probably deserved the headache.
I hadn’t gotten in past curfew, at least. I remembered walking through the door promptly at one a.m. My dad had been awake, asked me how the dance and the party had been, and I’d done a good enough job of not looking drunk enough to warrant being grounded.
I sat up slowly, rubbing my hands over my face. It was only nine in the morning, according to the clock on my nightstand, so I settled back against my pillows and picked up my cell phone, checking my messages.
There was a notification from Rachel—she’d tagged me in a post. I found she’d uploaded a bunch of photos from the dance last night, including one of me and Lee acting like dorks on the dance floor, and the one of Levi and me in the kissing booth.
I stared at the photo for a while. It was nice. I looked good in it, my dress flattering, my hair cute. And the more I looked at it, the more I thought how good Levi looked beside me. I hit the like button.
When I opened my texts to respond to someone in our group chat, my heart stopped for a second and my eyes bugged out of my skull, and then I felt like retching.
There was a text to my dad—to say I was on my way back from the party—and before that…
I’d texted Noah.
I miss you sooooo much xxxxxx
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit!
I clicked to see what the damage was—and was kind of relieved to find I’d only sent the one text. I’d have been even more mortified if I’d sent him two dozen pining texts. God, that would have been a total disaster.
But even so—one was pretty bad. My cell said that I’d sent the message at 12:24, which I was sure was when I was sitting outside with the guys. I must’ve been a little more drunk than I’d thought….
I was an idiot. My shoulders tensed up as I stared at the message, and the littleRead: 07:58message underneath it.
What did I do now? Noah had seen it, and there was no way I could take it back. He’d obviously decided to ignore it, since I knew he’d seen it over an hour ago, so what did that mean? Did he hate me? Or did he just figure I wasn’t worth replying to?
I swallowed the lump in my throat and ran a hand through my hair, my fingers getting caught in some knots.
Should I text him and apologize, say I was drunk and didn’t mean to send it?
Should I ignore it, too?
I tried typing out an apology first:Hahaha, just seen the text I sent you last night. Sorry about that—had one too many at the party after Sadie Hawkins!
I looked at the text, hesitating over the send button. It looked forced. It looked fake. I didn’t want him to think I was full of regret, pining for him. (Even if I kinda was.) And what if he didn’t reply to that, either?
Or what if he did reply, and say it was okay, and that he knew I didn’t miss him—he didn’t miss me either?
Worse: what if he replied and said he missed me too?
I deleted the reply I’d typed out and set down my phone, closing my eyes. If I’d thought being with Noah long distance was hard, getting over him was so muchharder.
