“I’m going to go sleep in the guest room,” he lets out and rolls across the bed to get up.
“Haze!” I call out to him, but he ignores me and walks out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
My mouth flies open as I sit up on the bed and stare at the emptiness in disbelief.
That did not just happen.
It feels like every drop of hope in my body is torturously being drained out of me. I squeeze my thighs where his hand used to be and clumsily wrap my arms around my body as if to shield myself from the pain threatening to reach my heart.
I shed a tear at the movie scene unraveling in front of my eyes: A guy walking away without an explanation. A girl sitting there, in her underwear, with her heart in her hands and one question burdening her: What did I do wrong?
Haze might’ve taken me to cloud nine, but I fell back down to earth and hit the ground. I remember what my aunt always used to tell me. She was right.
Love is both a blessing and a curse. It is both the best thing and the worst. When loving someone with all your heart.
The higher you fly…
The harder you fall.
11
Before It’s Too Late
I’m woken up by the sound of the front door slamming. Immediately, I sit up and rub my heavy eyelids. A short moment of oblivion is the best I can do because, apparently, the memories are just as eager to come back as Haze was eager to leave me last night.
It was almost perfect.
It could’ve been a fairy-tale scene.
If, of course, Prince Charming hadn’t told the princess that he wanted to sleep with other princesses all the while still having access to her castle.
I reach for the lamp next to the bed and flick the switch on.
Nothing.
Still no power.
But what truly bothers me is the roar of a car coming from outside the house and the way it keeps on getting farther and farther away. I run to the window and barely manage to see Haze’s black car disappearing down the driveway.
What the hell? Where is he going?
I take in the front yard of the house. A small tree fell over, but it’s nothing too bad. The fact that we don’t have power yet tells me that the damage must’ve been worse elsewhere in town. I walk back to the nightstand and reach for my phone. I have one text message. It’s from Haze.
Haze: Had stuff to do. Be back tonight.
Short and cold.
I ignore the sharp pain in my chest as well as his message. Is this the part where I look for cameras? He can’t be serious right now. You take me away from my family, bring me to a town I don’t know, tell me you love me, and then hook up with me, only to freak out when I mention commitment and leave me alone in a house with no power the next day?
Nuh-huh, I don’t think so.
I throw on the first clothes I can find and search the internet for a cab company in Colton Gate. I frown when I read the first name that came up on Google. Adams Taxi Co.
Adams? As in Haze Adams? Could the Adamses own the taxi company? Before I let myself fall deeper into a toxic question cycle, I push all Haze-related thoughts out of my head and dial the number. The only places with power will probably be stores and restaurants, and I am not spending the entire day here alone while Mr. Afraid of Commitment is out there doing God knows what.
“Welcome to Beck’s. How many people?” The waitress from the last time I was here forces a smile at the sight of me. I get it. I wouldn’t like me either. It sucks having Haze Adams slip through your fingers. I would know.
“Just one, please.”