Ashton and his bandmates.
Ashton playing a gig.
Ashton’s tattoos.
Ashton smoking a blunt.
The life of a rockstar.
Something I definitely don’t miss. Not hearing from him for days, wondering if he had strippers in his hotel room. Wondering if he flirted with the women his bandmates would bring back to the tour bus after the shows. He’d always call a few days after ghosting me with some fucked up excuse.
I look around the park in some kind of happy daze, thinking about how far I’ve come since then. How much better I feel.
Today is the day I was supposed to meet Hanna for margaritas, but Ellie’s dance class got moved. They are short on instructors and had to move it around last minute. I’m kind of relieved, though. What was I supposed to say? Oh, I talked to Eric. He doesn’t want to talk or anything, he just wants some space, and by the way, I kinda feel all warm and fuzzy inside when he’s around.
Just no.
I feel my phone vibrating on the bench next to me, so I pick it up. My heart does a tiny backflip when I realize who it is.
Eric: So I know it’s Tuesday and you have a permanent table at Abuela’s Mexican Restaurant, BUT I thought if you weren’t busy, we could cook at my house.
I stare at the screen, feeling a little giddy.
Me: Are there margaritas? Cause if there are margaritas, count me in.
Eric: On the way to the liquor store.
Me: What about limes? That’s a dealbreaker.
Eric: Yep, already purchased.
Me: What about Abuela’s? Think they’ll miss me?
Eric: I’d miss you more.
I read and reread that text over and over again. I’d miss you more. I’m sure he just means… I’d miss you more— insert as a friend here. Somehow, I can’t help but read deeper into it because what if he didn’t mean it like that. What if he literally meant, I’d miss you more as more than a friend.
Me: What time?
Eric: 7?
Me: Sounds good.
I pocket my phone into the side of my leggings and continue my run. I jog until my heartbeat matches my footsteps and feel like I’m in a good rhythm. That’s when I feel the best. I forget everything else and focus solely on keeping those two things in sync. I think that is what got me started on the whole fitness journey to begin with because I wanted to help people feel how I feel when I run. Plus, running was always something I could keep constant. The exact routes, the same shoes. I know that sounds crazy, but I’ve never had anything that was persistent like that.
Growing up, my mom and dad were wanderers. They had a coffee truck and moved it every weekend. One summer, we started on the east coast and ended up in Vegas. I was homeschooled, and I never had many friends. So when they finally parked it permanently on the campus of the college that I would eventually attend, it was finally like I had some stability. I had Hanna, classes, and a schedule.
Until I met Ashton. I think I craved him because his lifestyle was all I’d ever known. Living out of a bus. Traveling non-stop. I wish I hadn’t spent every break from school chasing him all over the country, though.
I turn the corner before my building but stop dead in my tracks when I see the car that makes my stomach turn. Pulling one of the AirPods from my ear, I step backward. My immediate response is to run away, but I stand there, paralyzed. He stands, leaning against his car, with a bouquet of flowers hanging by his side, flowers that make me nauseous.
My heart and my mind feel numb, but fight or flight kicks in, and I quickly step behind the side of the building, on the verge of hyperventilating. I slide down the building and cry. I can’t help but feel trapped by him. It’s like he has some kind of radar that goes off when I’m happy, so he can swoop in and fuck with my head.
I pull my phone out and begin to type. The one person I can trust.
Me: I know we said 7, but can you come to get me? I’m a couple blocks from my house.
Eric: Are you okay?