Marcus
I stare at the screen, watching those three little dots vanish.
She read it.
Then nothing.
No reply.
I scrub a hand over my jaw and toss my phone onto the counter, the damn thing clattering louder than it needs to.
"Maybe that's the problem," I muttered to myself when I typed it, and now I'm wondering if it was the final nail in the coffin.
Because I don't even know what the hell I meant. Not really.
All I know is I haven't been able to stop thinking about her. Not since that night. Not since she slipped out of my hot tub and left me with one broccoli earring.
She wasn't supposed to get to me.
I didn't expect to miss her laugh.
This is so stupid.
I lean my elbows on the counter and stare at the earring. I've kept it in a tiny dish by the sink, like some pathetic idiot who thinks having a reminder of her is normal.
I pick up the earring. It's a stupid little trinket. She was right. It's cheap and not worth keeping. But I can't find myself throwing it away yet.
