For the next two days, I decide to ban myself off Facebook. I barely manage; I feel like I’ve lost a vital extremity. I resist checking my personal messages. I even ask Brooke to text me instead of PM-ing.

Going cold turkey for days has my fingers twitching to click and scroll, but it’s my curiosity that is really killing me. I like to know what’s going on, I draw inspiration from life and observing others, so not going on the only thing I use to do my people-ing is hard. It has nothing to do with Leo DeLuca whatsoever.

I’m so deep in thought I jump when my phone pings on the table.

Brooke: Did you do it yet?

Me: Do what?

Brooke: Did you end your dry spell?

I spit my water all over myself as I read her text, she really has no filter.

Brooke: I meant on the Facebook front. I know exactly where your mind went.

Me: No, still cold turkey. Why? Do you think I’ve waited long enough?

I cringe at the eagerness oozing from just a few words. I am feeling desperate, to see if he has missed my presence, to see if he’s PM’d me, to see if there is any news or pictures. Okay, I may need a little help. My phone beeps again.

Brooke: I was going to ask how you’re coping but…

Me: Yeah, sorry. In all honesty, I feel like I have cabin fever. I never thought I’d say it but I miss people.

Brooke:You miss people or just one in particular?

She is too fuckin observant. Okay, so I admit it I went on a Facebook hiatus. I was turning into a real stalker. The good kind, not the one who wants to cut off your face and wear it. More like there wasn’t a minute that went past, where I wasn’t checking his profile, or looking for him in groups. It got so bad I annoyed the shite outta myself.

Me: Both?

Brooke: The fact that you added a question mark tells me all I need to know. Just PM him and let him pop your cherry.

Me: Cherry? I lost that a while ago.

Brooke: It’s been so long you’re practically a born again virgin.

Me: Where the feck do you get this shite? Gerry?

Brooke: No, my name is Brooke. We’ve been over this.

Me: You know how I feel about men and relationships.

Brooke: I know, but you have to take the plunge at some point.

Me: I do not. I’m happy the way I am.

Brooke: Okay, you keep telling yourself that. By the way, I think you have an admirer on Facebook.

Before it even registers I have the Facebook app open and I’m scrolling through my notifications searching for his name. When I get past all the tags and likes I see it, there are at least fifteen notifications all from Leo DeLuca liking my pictures and even commenting on a few.

Clicking the first comment, it’s on a picture taken in France while on holiday with my parents and Brianna, I was in my late teens, maybe nineteen? Brianna was sixteen at the time. While I smile brightly holding up my lucky find, a signed copy from one of my favourite authors. Brianna looks bored absently filing her nails, a scowl on her face. I remember she was miffed off because I took too long looking through old books. We never really got along, which was sad because I remember when she was little I used to play with her and dress her up. I was so happy to have a baby sister, but as she got older she acted out whenever I got any attention, she was jealous of me. She played the rich girl to a T, people were beneath her, even me, her own sister.

Leo DeLuca: I see looks run in the family. Beautiful pic.

I smile clicking the next comment, it’s on one of my more recent profile pictures, I was messing around taking selfies and sent this one to Brooke she said it should be my profile pic. I hadn’t long gotten out of the shower my hair is still slightly damp and is wavy, Brooke calls it the beach look. I was doing the dreaded pout, just for fun. My pale green eyes shine like polished jade.

Leo DeLuca: Not the pout…I thought you were different.

I laugh and click reply. I pause, contemplating what to say.

Kaitlyn O’Roarke: I like to keep people on their toes.

I pause smiling as I see the amount of comments on the latest snippet I posted from my novel, I write for work but I also write as a hobby. I write horror, I like the darker side of life having experienced some of it, I like to pretend the people who hurt me are the characters. Though, I’ve not decided if I will publish it yet, it’s scary, putting a piece of yourself out there for people to dissect.

I have two possible titles, Greystone or Lies Buried. I’m not sure which I like better, Brooke’s no help and I don’t want to put it out there yet. My phone vibrates distracting me, I smile when I see a private message from Leo.

Leo: You’re back. I thought you were avoiding me there for a minute, but your friend assured me you were not and you were just busy.

“Brooke,” I groan, banging my head on the back of the sofa.

Kaitlyn: Hey, sorry. I’ve been so busy trying to fix my laptop and making a deadline at the magazine.

Leo: What do you write?

Kaitlyn: I write soppy shite for my local magazine…So not me.

Leo: Wow, I thought all woman loved romance.

Kaitlyn: Never been shown romance. I don’t believe it exists, not for me.

I don’t add the “not anymore” that runs through my head, no sense in spoiling the conversation with the past.

We message back and forth for ages, time flies. I find myself laughing and blushing at some of his messages, I could easily become addicted to him.

* * *

I wake with my face planted firmly on my laptop with notes scattered everywhere, there is ink on my fingers and drool on my cheek. I’m a hot mess, if Leo saw me now. Sighing I peel my cheek off the keys and run my hands through my hair, an array of auburn waves fall across my shoulders and down my back. I love my hair more than any other part of me, it’s my crowning jewel, it complements my eyes perfectly.

I can’t remember the last time I didn’t wake up with my face planted on my laptop. I’m just glad I got it working so I could finish my article, I even knocked out a full chapter in my book. It was a sticky ending for Ashley, she really should have learnt not to trust men.

I stretch out my back groaning as my spine cracks, I really need to stop falling asleep like this. My phone vibrates, it’s a reminder of what I need to do today.

The list is long, it’s already making me feel tired. I really don’t want to adult today, I want to grab lots of snacks and barricade myself in my bedroom and write. Unfortunately, I have to do a food shop, I’m out of my favourite snacks and really need some more cereal. As my number one food group I am shocked and disgusted that I’ve run out. I need to take a long hard look at my priorities.

Going about my morning routine I wash my face, brush my teeth, and shove my hair in a messy bun on the top of my head. A supermodel I am not, but lucky for me I don’t live to impress anyone. Not anymore.

Looking in the mirror I smile, I’m proud of my new ‘I don’t give a shite what anyone thinks of me’ attitude. As the store is just a couple of streets away I stay in my trackies and my Star Trek t-shirt. To other people it looks old and worn, to me it’s well loved and vintage.

Grabbing my keys, I head out. I slide a loving hand over my Ford KA, petting him lovingly. This baby is the only thing that has been loyal to me, aside from Brooke of course. Zeus groans and comes to life. Patting the wheel, I pull out carefully, my viewing range is limited due to my knob of a neighbour who has parked his monstrosity right behind my little Zeus. If my baby gets damaged I will kick him in his pompous balls.

The sound of wheels screeching has me stomping on my brakes so hard I feel the fatigued metal grind. I really need to have that seen to.

I beep angrily and pull away, I can see the other driver waving angrily at me so I flip him off and indicate before taking the next left.

I reach Tesco and park quickly, I love shopping early or late at night when there aren’t many people around. If the car park is any indication there are only a few people up and about this morning.

Grabbing a trolley, I stand on the back of it and glide through the door. I know it’s lazy and childish but I never claimed to be a grown up and I really didn’t want to adult today.

I grab two multipacks of Walker’s crisps and drop them in my trolley, before pushing off again. I also grab chocolates, biscuits, pasta, bolognaise sauce and minced meat. I roll down the sweetie aisle perusing all the different types of sweet treats.

I don’t even see her until she is screeching like a banshee, I feel like my eardrum just popped. Covering my ears, I step off the trolley ready to apologize. When I look up the apology dies on my tongue leaving behind a nasty bitter taste. I can’t believe it’s him, them.

What are they doing in my supermarket?

“Brianna?” My voice is barely above a whisper but to me it sounds like I have a megaphone in front of my mouth. You could drop a pin and hear it in the stony silence that follows.

I take them in, at twenty-five Brianna looks exactly the same as the last time I saw her, with more clothes on of course and a slight glow to her cheeks.

My gaze flicks over Shane, He looks younger if that is even possible. His light brown hair has golden highlights through it and he has a tan no pure Irishman should have. They look like they’ve just returned from a holiday abroad, tanned, relaxed and happy.

Well, at least someone’s happy…

Just as the thought enters my brain it’s washed away by the image Leo sent.

Could I be happy? Is it even possible with the long distance between us?

I shake my thoughts and focus on the smug looking couple in front of me. A sickeningly sweet smile stretches across my face as I meet each of their eyes. Shane’s smug look drops from his face as I straighten, Brianna cuddles into Shane and places her left hand across his chest stroking him like a dog.

I almost laugh until I see it. There on her finger is the ring I was meant to have, our Grandmother’s ring. I feel my eyes sting as I take in the glittering diamond, I couldn’t give a shite about them being engaged or married, they deserve each other. But that was meant to be mine, I have dreamt about that being slid onto my finger by my prince charming since I was a little. It feels like someone just stomped on my chest, I know I’m going to cry. You will not cry in front of them, they took enough from you. DO NOT DO IT! Just walk away with your head held high.

Taking a deep breath, I open my mouth to say something when my phone buzzes from my pocket.

Leo: Good morning beautiful.

I smile and the tightness in my chest lessens as I click respond.

Kaitlyn: Isn’t it the middle of the night there?

Leo: I was working late and thought I’d say good morning. How is your day so far?

Kaitlyn: You do realize it’s only six a.m here right?

Leo: Shit, did I wake you?

Kaitlyn: No, so far my day has been shite, but you just made it a hundred times better.

Leo: It’s nice to know I had that kind of influence on your day.

I look up seeing my sister and her, whatever Shane is to her, scowling at me, I take a chance.

Kailyn: I’m at the supermarket at the moment…How about I call you when I get back and we can finally say hi face to face?

My thumb hovers over the send button, taking a deep breath I press send and wait.

Leo: Deal. See you soon.

Kaitlyn: I should be home in the next twenty minutes. See you then.

“Nice to see you both, have a good life,” I say, turning I rush toward the checkout. I need to get home, shower and make myself look nice.

“Wait, aren’t you even going to say congratulations?” My sister screeches behind me.

Turning I raise an eyebrow. “For?” I ask, checking my phone.

“We just got married,” She says, holding out her hand for me to see again. “And we’re expecting, you’re going to be an auntie.”

“Congratulations. Tell the kid I’m sorry when he or she is older,” I say. Turning back on them I place my purchases on the conveyer belt a little more forcefully than needed.

“Why sorry?” Shane asks. I turn again looking at the man I spent way too much time and energy on. “For not being there and for them being given such shite luck in parents,” I say, swiping my card. I grab my bags and leave not even looking back.