23.
Lucy
I didn’t see Eddie for more than a month after my birthday. Even though I knew it was for the best I still missed him. It was like there was a gap in my life that I didn’t know was there until he was no longer around to fill it.
Little things stood out most, things that reminded me of him or made me want to text him or call him or see him. An inside joke that someone inadvertently triggered, a story I knew he would find funny. I thought that the more time passed the less I’d miss him, but it didn’t seem to work that way. Things built up upon themselves and before long I had a mental list of things to tell Eddie that ran into the hundreds.
Despite all of that I knew I’d done the right thing. He wasn’t the relationship type and I knew that. He was just saying what he thought I wanted to hear. He’s always been good at that. Maybe he wanted sex, and I truly believed he worried about me, but as a friend. And I couldn’t do that anymore. I couldn’t be the friend and fuckbuddy.
It may have been selfish of me, but I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if we had kept going the way we were I would have fallen in love with him. It would have been inevitable. Like gravity. He’d be too much for me. People like him aren’t supposed to notice people like me. I wouldn’t have had a choice but to fall in love with him. I was halfway there already.
And he would have left, the way my father left.
And I would have died of a broken heart.
Just like Mum.
I’d let him in, forgetting I knew him too well. He was so sweet and caring and funny and sexy and such a good kisser. And it felt like he was actually listening when he listened to me, not just waiting for his moment to speak. I had no idea he could cook, no idea he could make me feel as if I was living and breathing for the first time with him.
He was even vulnerable with me. There was a moment, when he was talking about his dad, when I saw a side to him I’d never seen before, and that only made me care for him more. And because of all of that, because of everything he was, I let myself forget who I knew him to be.
Until he called me ‘baby’.
Before that I’d felt special, wanted, needed. It was as though he was in the moment as much as I was, and that everything we did together was special because we were doing it. It was just the two of us, having fun and enjoying each other because we were who we were.
But that word, that sodding word, made me think of all the times I’ve heard him say it before, to countless women whose faces, if not their names, have gone down in the annals of Eddie, never to be seen again. Beautiful women, charming, funny, sexy women who disappeared as soon as he was done with them. Women who were a hundred times higher in the pecking order than me.
Now I was one of them.
It was a sign, an omen. The beginning of the end. So I did the only rational thing and ended it before he could. That didn’t make it any easier. He couldn’t look at me when he left and after I shut the door I held it together for a grand total of about ten seconds before I fell apart. I put his present in the back of my wardrobe, determined to forget about it until I could look at it without crying.
If I’d been angrier I probably would have thrown it away, but I wasn’t angry really. At least, not at Eddie. You can’t expect someone to be anyone but who they are, and Eddie had always been Eddie. It wasn’t his fault that I’d let my emotions get in the way. It wasn’t his fault that I’m not wired the same way he was. If I could cope with casual sex then there wouldn’t have been a problem. But there was a problem. The problem was that deep down I was already hooked on him. Two hits and I was completely addicted.
So I did the only sensible thing I could think of. I went cold turkey.
He stopped trying to call after the first week, and by the end of the second the texts had all but dried up. It hurt like crazy, but I told myself it was for the best.
I avoided social situations that he was likely to be at, changed my running schedule from a morning to an evening session. I hated it. I never felt truly awake until I’d been for my run, but it was one of a number of necessary evils. I couldn’t risk running into him. There’s no social handbook for bumping into someone who used to be your best friend but you made the mistake of sleeping with him and now you’re not speaking. I wouldn’t know what to do.
I missed the next games night. I wasn’t overly eager to see Stephen either. Unlike Eddie, he hadn’t bothered calling or texting. Well, unless you counted the occasional late night text that felt more like an attempt at booty calls than friendly gestures. Skipping was the only sensible option.
I sent Travis a quick message feigning illness and he was his usual nonchalant self about it. I didn’t think I’d miss it, but when the evening rolled around I felt… lonelier than I expected. I liked games nights. I always had. I hated knowing they were gaming without me.
Eddie sent me a message checking I was alright, but I couldn’t respond. I barely let myself read it before I deleted it. It hurt too much. Why did he have to be so considerate? It made forgetting him so bloody difficult.
By the end of August, Mills made it clear that she’d had enough.
“You sit around waiting for him to come over when you know he’s not going to. And if I do manage to get you out of the house you spend the whole time checking your phone for calls you won’t answer and texts you won’t respond to.” She sighed, her tone became softer as she continued. “I know you miss him, but you can’t go on like this. I’m your friend and I’m not going to let you.”
I could feel the pain and frustration building inside me. “What the hell am I supposed to do? It’s so royally fucked.”
She wrapped an arm around me as I tried to hold back the tears. It had been more and more difficult to stop myself from crying, especially when Eddie was mentioned. “I think that in order to get over Eddie, you need to get under someone else.”
I pulled away and frowned at her. This hadn’t been about sex. Sex had been part of it, maybe it had been the tipping point, but it was my heart that was aching for him, not anything else. By then I was prepared to admit it was definitely aching. I didn’t understand how Mills could not get that.
She ignored my frown and kept talking. “Come out with me on Friday. We can have a few drinks, forget about Eddie and maybe find you someone new to think about. Worst comes to worst you come home empty handed. But you never know. It might be your lucky night.”