Page 61 of Burning Obsession

Fucking emotions. Mine are so over the place I don’t even know what I want. How can I expect anyone else to know either?

The shuttle arrives and I make my way on, finding a seat at the back and stare out the window as we make our way through the city. The entire time, I’m fighting the urge to check my phone. To call him myself, but I want to wait until I’m settled in my room. I need to see if there is a place nearby. Maybe a coffee shop where we can meet and talk.

When I finally get to the hotel, I check in, grab my key, and head upstairs. The hotel is the very one that Victor and I planned to stay in together. We figured we could also have a sweet little vacation together, too.

The room is nice. But it’s missing him. All I can think about is that the two of us were going to be here together. Sharing the room.

I sit down on the edge of the bed and stare at my phone. If I’m going to message him, then now is the time to do it. I could call, but I’m not ready to do that yet. To hear his voice. I open our message thread and my thumbs hover over the screen, twitching to message but not knowing what to type.

What the hell do I even say?

Hey. No, that’s far too casual. I could simply say I'm here. Yet that doesn’t sound right either. Or maybe Can we talk? Can I see you?

Fuck, why is this so difficult? My thumb moves, barely getting out enough letters to make a word which I then delete. I’m not happy with anything I’ve written.

I bite down on my lip, staring at the empty message box like the right words might magically appear if I glare at it hard enough. But they don’t. I’m overthinking it, I know I am. I always do.

Finally I type a message.

Me: Victor. The last four days have been hard. I’m here. In the hotel that we planned to stay in. I’m ready to hear what you have to say. Can we meet? The concierge told me there is a coffee shop a block away, called Bright Awakenings.

I read it once, then again. Then I hit send, knowing if I look at it any longer I’ll chicken out. Or I’ll erase and probably type a dozen more messages.

The tiny check mark appears below the message showing it’s been sent. I hoped that he’d read it right away, but he doesn’t. Or, he’s gotten it and has chosen not to read it. Maybe he’s scared of what I may have written.

I drop the phone on the bed and look around the room. Fuck this is lonely. I pick up the remote and flip through the channels, my eyes continuing to gaze over to my phone, anticipating seeing a response.

"Fuck!" I exclaim.

I fall back on the bed, my body hitting the mattress with a soft whoof. I lift my hands and rub my eyes with the heel of my palms.

I need to do something. Anything but sit here and obsess over him responding to my message. If I keep sitting here I’m going to go insane.

My stomach chooses that moment to growl. Perfect. I can go eat. The hotel has a restaurant in the lobby so I don’t even need to order a ride anywhere or walk a million miles.

I grab my wallet and phone and head downstairs.

The hotel restaurant is mostly empty. I take a table in the corner and order a sandwich, fries, and a mixed drink. I need to take the edge off and a Jack and coke will definitely do that. A shot would be preferable, a few of them actually, but I don’t want to be drunk when we talk. I want to be completely lucid.

The first one goes down easier than it should and I order another. I eat slowly, barely tasting the food. My focus on my phone and the very lack of a message.

I try to concentrate on the television mounted above the bar. Some news channel’s playing, talking about things I couldn't care less about. Politics. Don’t even get me started.

I finish my food and order another drink. My last one. If I drink any more then I’ll be heading down the road toward drunkenness. I already feel the warm relaxing effects of the alcohol spreading through me.

I stay in the restaurant long after my food and drinks are done, before finally making my way back to my room. All I want is for Victor to respond and he hasn’t. Has he given up on me?

I head back upstairs, unlock my room, and collapse onto the bed.

"What the fuck, Victor? I’m ready to listen. Why aren’t you answering me?” I know he can’t hear me, but it makes me feel better saying it out loud.

I lay down, my head sinking into the fluffy pillow, and close my eyes.

What if I’m getting exactly what I wanted? Somehow, it doesn’t make me happy. I feel like I’ve lost a part of me. A heavy sigh escapes my lips, and I let myself drift off to sleep, dreaming of a world where I never found out the truth, and I was still happily with Victor.

Chapter 20

Victor