have to settle for a finger squeeze and a whisper. I make my way over to the bed and pick up my cell phone. I’m wishing for a message from Travis—a message I know won’t be there.
In a final act of desperation, I look for his phone number. Before I can stop myself, I’m sending the most idiotic text of my life. I know it won’t solve anything, but I need Travis to know how I feel.
Bree: Despite everything that just happened. I want you to know that I really do love you.
I don’t expect a text back from him, so it surprises me when my phone immediately makes the sound of a Zelda treasure chest being opened.
Travis: Give me some time. I love you too.
And that was that. Travis wanted time, and frankly who could blame him. He wasn’t even prepared for Max. Maybe if I told him earlier on in the relationship there could’ve been some prepping involved. Instead, he was blindsided by my little white lie, and because of it, I’ve lost him. I guess it’s not really Max’s fault after all. It’s mine.
Chapter Ten
Max
She’s mad at me.
She loves him.
I hate that she’s a crying mess on the other side of that door. Right now she’s keeping me out, and there isn’t a single thing I can do about those tears. That asshole doesn’t even know what he’s losing here. He seemed nice enough and quite funny like Breezy described him, but the man has absolutely no balls. I’m sorry, but if Breezy was my woman, and she was living with a man that looks like me, I would be doing everything in my power to solidify the fact that she’s mine. I would possess her to the point of smothering. I would make sure that every night that we were in bed together, she felt loved and wanted. No other woman comes close to Breezy in my eyes, and the fact that he can just walk away from her without even thinking twice, kills me.
I have to do something to make her feel better. I know Breezy well enough that sitting by this door, hoping she will squeeze my fingers again, is a waste of time. I’ve been Breezy’s best friend for ten years. She’s never been this devastated by a break up before. As much as it pains me to admit it, I think she really does love this one. I guess it’s time to cash in my man card and take one for the team.
An hour later I have everything set. Operation: Make Breezy Feel Better is in full swing. I’ve only had to do this once before, but I know it’s a slam dunk on putting her in a great mood when she’s sad. First thing was a grocery store run where I bought: two pints of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, six bags of king-sized M &M’s, a box of microwavable popcorn, that new chick flick comedy movie with that one girl who makes people laugh, a case of Dr. Pepper, and to top everything off, a can of whip cream.
When I get home, I make sure that everything is put on the coffee table. Then it’s time to unleash my secret weapon. I grab the remote for the sound system, put in our CD labeled the Max and Breezy project 2014, and crank up her favorite song full blast. Here’s a little fact about my best friend; she loves 90’s pop stars. If you put on NSYNC or the Backstreet Boys, maybe a little Genie in the Bottle, that girl can’t help dancing like a crazy person. This CD is full of their songs, but there is one song that she can’t resist—one song that I know will coax her out of that room, and that’s Barbie Girl by Aqua. The minute the song starts playing, I grin. It will only take a few minutes before her door swings open. I count it down in my head. Ten . . . nine . . . any second now . . . seven . . . six, on count five her door bangs open. Breezy is standing in the doorway, her eyes glistening with tears, a frown slowly edging into a smile on her face.
“This is so not fair,” she shouts over the music. “I’m supposed to be mad at you. Start it over damn it!”
I oblige and make the song start again. “Hi Breezy,” I
In a final act of desperation, I look for his phone number. Before I can stop myself, I’m sending the most idiotic text of my life. I know it won’t solve anything, but I need Travis to know how I feel.
Bree: Despite everything that just happened. I want you to know that I really do love you.
I don’t expect a text back from him, so it surprises me when my phone immediately makes the sound of a Zelda treasure chest being opened.
Travis: Give me some time. I love you too.
And that was that. Travis wanted time, and frankly who could blame him. He wasn’t even prepared for Max. Maybe if I told him earlier on in the relationship there could’ve been some prepping involved. Instead, he was blindsided by my little white lie, and because of it, I’ve lost him. I guess it’s not really Max’s fault after all. It’s mine.
Chapter Ten
Max
She’s mad at me.
She loves him.
I hate that she’s a crying mess on the other side of that door. Right now she’s keeping me out, and there isn’t a single thing I can do about those tears. That asshole doesn’t even know what he’s losing here. He seemed nice enough and quite funny like Breezy described him, but the man has absolutely no balls. I’m sorry, but if Breezy was my woman, and she was living with a man that looks like me, I would be doing everything in my power to solidify the fact that she’s mine. I would possess her to the point of smothering. I would make sure that every night that we were in bed together, she felt loved and wanted. No other woman comes close to Breezy in my eyes, and the fact that he can just walk away from her without even thinking twice, kills me.
I have to do something to make her feel better. I know Breezy well enough that sitting by this door, hoping she will squeeze my fingers again, is a waste of time. I’ve been Breezy’s best friend for ten years. She’s never been this devastated by a break up before. As much as it pains me to admit it, I think she really does love this one. I guess it’s time to cash in my man card and take one for the team.
An hour later I have everything set. Operation: Make Breezy Feel Better is in full swing. I’ve only had to do this once before, but I know it’s a slam dunk on putting her in a great mood when she’s sad. First thing was a grocery store run where I bought: two pints of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, six bags of king-sized M &M’s, a box of microwavable popcorn, that new chick flick comedy movie with that one girl who makes people laugh, a case of Dr. Pepper, and to top everything off, a can of whip cream.
When I get home, I make sure that everything is put on the coffee table. Then it’s time to unleash my secret weapon. I grab the remote for the sound system, put in our CD labeled the Max and Breezy project 2014, and crank up her favorite song full blast. Here’s a little fact about my best friend; she loves 90’s pop stars. If you put on NSYNC or the Backstreet Boys, maybe a little Genie in the Bottle, that girl can’t help dancing like a crazy person. This CD is full of their songs, but there is one song that she can’t resist—one song that I know will coax her out of that room, and that’s Barbie Girl by Aqua. The minute the song starts playing, I grin. It will only take a few minutes before her door swings open. I count it down in my head. Ten . . . nine . . . any second now . . . seven . . . six, on count five her door bangs open. Breezy is standing in the doorway, her eyes glistening with tears, a frown slowly edging into a smile on her face.
“This is so not fair,” she shouts over the music. “I’m supposed to be mad at you. Start it over damn it!”
I oblige and make the song start again. “Hi Breezy,” I
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