Episode 20: “Don’t fall in love. Fall off a fucking bridge. It probably hurts less.”
Okay, I’m back.
Sorry I made you wait, but yeah, I just needed a little time to process it all, you know?
So, I definitely appreciate your patience.
And, well, if you weren’t patient at all and were pretty much cursing me out after yesterday’s episode, I appreciate the fact that this is a podcast and I was oblivious to your rage.
[snorts]
Anyway, back to the story…
[big, deep breath]
So, that afternoon, after I’d eavesdropped on Ollie and Amelia’s interview, I’d left the competition a little earlier than I’d originally planned to head back to the hotel.
I’m sure you can understand why…
Of course, I’d told myself it was to get a break from the California heat and sun, but I think we all know better.
I’d left because of Ollie.
I was terrified over how deep I’d let myself get.
I was scared that he held my heart between his hands, and any moment he’d clap them together and I’d be crushed.
And I feared the worst. A man I’d spent the last few months trying to stay away from, but who had somehow slipped into my life, into my heart, would show me what I’d assumed from the start. He was no better than the Joshs and Ronnies and Macs and Tiagos of the world.
When I’d gotten back to my room, I’d dived straight into work.
Yeah, a Type 3 Achiever trying to avoid matters of the heart pretty much equates to an evading workaholic…
I powered up my laptop and uploaded my notes from the event into a fresh Word doc, and just before I started to piece them into a rough draft of an article, I decided to peruse the latest pop culture news articles for the day.
Prince Harry and Meghan Markle are the It Couple of the century.
Chris Martin and Dakota Johnson are in LOVE and now have matching tattoos.
Ariana Grande and Pete Davidson are the cutest, and we’re here for them.
I kept scrolling through the latest headlines.
Nothing really stood out to me until, well, one pushed my heart straight into my throat.
Oliver Arsen and Amelia Erickson: Reunited and it feels so good?
Did I click on it? Of course, I did. Apparently, I was a masochist.
Instantly, a photo stared back at me.
It was of Ollie and Amelia at the restaurant that was apparently the location of their business dinner.
They were standing by the bar, she had her arms wrapped around his waist, and his lips were pressed to her forehead.
[sighs]
Yeah. Talk about a kick to the chest.
And, good God, it hurt, you guys.
It felt so damn intimate that I immediately shut my laptop and didn’t torture myself with reading the article itself.
I mean, what more did I need to see, you know?
Between the way he’d skirted around the truths of his past, the way he’d told me he had a business dinner that was actually a dinner with his ex, the way they’d candidly talked about one another during that interview, and now, the photo, I would’ve been a stupid, stupid girl to ignore it and act like everything was perfectly fine.
Like there wasn’t anything going on between Ollie and his ex.
Like this was all just a coincidence.
I’d done that with Josh.
I’d seen the signs and the red fucking flags that he’d been cheating on me.
The clichéd late-night work hours. The immediate showers whenever he’d come home. The way he’d grown secretive with his calls and text messages.
It had all been right there, staring me in the face, but I’d been in denial for a good two months before I’d finally let myself see it.
[audible pause]
My mind raced.
And the emotions that consumed me were damn near intolerable.
I pretty much wanted to be anywhere else but where I was.
I wasn’t due to leave for New York for another two days, but fuck, I wanted to be back home. I wanted the comfort of my family and friends.
And I really did not want to see Ollie.
My heart already felt like it was broken into a million tiny pieces. The last thing I needed was to be faced with his gorgeous eyes or sexy smile or be reminded of all of the good memories we’d shared.
He’d taught me how to swim.
He’d taken care of me when I was sick.
He’d kissed me and made love to me in a way no man had ever done before.
The walls of my hotel room felt like a vise, and every minute I was stuck inside them, the harder my lungs had to fight to breathe.
I just wanted to…escape.
I searched for flights to New York on a whim.
Maybe there was a red-eye I could catch tonight? Maybe I could just head home a few days early and find a way to get myself in order before I’d have to finish up the assignment with trips to France and Portugal and Hawaii?
Before I’d actually have to face Ollie again.
Maybe by then, I’d be rid of this horrible feeling that I’d just given my heart to a man who had been secretly pining away for his ex the whole fucking time?
I’d found a flight to New York that left in three hours and would only be a nine-hundred-dollar drain on my bank account.
Sure, it wasn’t peanuts, but it was doable.
I’d been able to save a lot of money over those past few months since the trips on the assignment had been an all-expenses-paid kind of thing.
Two clicks later and a quick entry of my credit card information and my flight was booked.
I sent Vanessa a quick email, letting her know I’d managed to get everything I needed for my next article and would be headed home a little early to work from our New York offices.
She’d responded a few minutes later with a short and sweet Okay.
In no time at all, I was showered, packed, dressed, and headed with wet hair toward the airport inside an Uber.
I didn’t bother saying goodbye to anyone. Definitely not Ollie. And not even Jordy.
I just left.
And two hours after that, I was boarding the plane.
The flight was long and boring, and my anxiety had been through the damn roof.
And by the time we’d landed, my head ached and my body felt about as good as it did the day after Jordy and I had hiked to that fucking waterfall.
When I reached baggage claim, I turned on my phone to round up another Uber ride, and the instant the screen lit up, several missed calls and text messages filled my eyes.
All of them from Ollie.
Where are you, little fire? I miss you. I NEED to see you tonight. No excuses. It’s happening.
I just went to your hotel room, and you weren’t there. Are you okay?
Call me back, please. I’m starting to get worried over here…
Obviously, I had to respond to him. I couldn’t let him think something bad had happened to me and start sending out a search party.
But I couldn’t really say, Oh, hey, I left because I think something is going on with you and your ex, and I’m too deep in love in with you that I literally can’t handle it.
So, I typed out a quick, albeit slightly awkward, response.
Oh, sorry. I had to leave to go home last minute.
He texted back only thirty seconds later and asked, What do you mean, go home?
And I responded with, I had to take a last-minute flight back to New York because of a meeting with my editor that I almost forgot about.
His shock was evident. You’re in New York? Right now?
I let him know I had just landed, and his following text was filled with confusion and questions about why I hadn’t told him. Why hadn’t I said goodbye? Why hadn’t I let him take me to the airport?
And my gut instinct screamed at me that I’d really made a mess of things.
But I ignored it and just sent him a short apology and reiterated the fact—well, more like, the lie—that it had all been sudden.
It had done nothing to help his confusion or iron out the awkwardness of our conversation.
Is everything okay, Lucky? he asked, and I simply responded with, Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?
But my vague answer didn’t encourage him to drop the discussion. Well, from my end of things, it kind of feels like you’ve been avoiding me the past few days…
I outright denied my avoidance, and his next response disarmed me a bit.
I miss you, Lucky. So much. And I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit that I’m a bit devastated I didn’t get to see you before you left. Because I am.
His words did not match what I thought was really going on.
It was so fucking confusing. And a huge part of me felt insanely guilty that I hadn’t been honest with him from the start. That I’d let it reach a point where I had to hightail it to New York and avoid him completely because the emotions I felt had been too damn intense and painful to face head on.
But then my second thoughts kicked in, the ones that were littered with baggage from my past, and I refused to be the dumb girl who got caught up in things like I miss you instead of seeing the bigger picture.
So, I simply ended the conversation by telling him I needed to get my bags and head to my apartment and I’d see him soon.
I knew he was planning to come to New York too, to see Allie before heading to France, but that was later and this was now, and the vague excuse seemed like the perfect raft to use until I came across that bridge and had to cross it.
And his response to that?
Okay.
It was the opposite of what I’d expected from Ollie.
The man very rarely let anything get past him, and if he thought something else was going on and I wasn’t telling him, he’d pester me about it until I did tell him.
I half expected a phone call from him.
But my phone never rang.
And as I hopped into an Uber, I felt so damn god-awful about all of it.
I didn’t feel relief at being home.
I actually felt worse than when I’d booked my last-minute flight.
And I couldn’t go a single minute without thinking about him.
[sighs]
God, guys. Don’t fall in love. Fall off a fucking bridge. It probably hurts less.