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WE WERE GOING HOME WHEN I NO LONGER WANTED TO GO HOME

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WE WERE GOING HOME WHEN I NO LONGER WANTED TO GO HOME. 

Evan had pretended to be fine when trees blurred past us and raindrops cascaded down the windows. There rested uneasiness, covering the silt of the moisture and the grip of his fingers around the steering wheel. I wished I'd made the sight up, but he looked upset.

"Let me know if the project becomes overbearing." I'd paused while walking to my curb upon hearing that. "I'll help you."

Of course you will. I sighed when he raced out of my sight, rain barely wringing my clothes. It was a pitiful view to be getting drenched on the pavement outside of my own house—perhaps I'd have been on the dramatics any other day—so I shook the dread and hurt behind me and hurried through the door. I might've been heartbroken, but that didn't give me the leverage to exploit it and get ill a day before my exam.

I was glad to be sane enough to reason that.

Stella's name jumped on my screen before I could even hop out of my shoes. She had texted: Hope there's no trouble in paradise!

I leaned against the door for a bit, peeling the bag around my shoulder and shoving it rudely in a corner. My breath was like a scoff when I texted, it was hell.

Then I proceeded to prance around until I had found a chocolate bar, torn it open, and munched a bite. Right now, my heart was pretending that the past hour did not happen. Mind: entirely too buzzed to care. It was amusing how I was distracting myself from feeling the imminent gloom all while bracing for it to hit.

I prayed it never did. Then again, my pleas seldom worked.

You're home? Her words sounded concerned. I could picture her eyes squint—an action she did so often so comically. What happened?

When I finally fished out the television remote from under a billion cushions, I typed back: nothing, Stels. what was supposed to happen?

I could hear her condescending laugh through the screen. ??? everyone but u knows what the hell was supposed to happen.

I narrowed my eyes when the three dots reappeared. Another text bubble surfaced. You truly sound like u want to snap someone's neck in half. Want me to call?

I ignored how blatantly she'd called me violent. I did use physical violence as a threat at times, but they were empty warnings. Mostly. And I was tired of going about it the roundabout way, so I figured I'd just let her know things how they currently were. That way, she could move on to another topic for discussion without calling me and making it a big deal, and my heart would stop plummeting to my feet.

My fingers hovered before I sent the message. He isn't so single anymore.

My own phone ringing in my own hands gave me a near heart attack.

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