Girl Crush(54)

“The longer you go without talking to him, the harder it will be. He cares a lot about you, Giselle. Give him a chance to let you fix it. Okay?”

I wanted to believe her. I needed to make things right. Not talking to him, not having him around, avoiding him—it was awful, and I hated every minute of it…but not enough to face the firing squad…not yet.

It didn’t take Collier long to start blowing up my phone. He started with calls and then moved on to text messages. I turned off my read message receipts so he wouldn’t know I’d received them—although I’m sure he knew. His increasing frustration became more evident with each message, and I finally put my phone on do not disturb and went to bed.

When I woke Thursday morning to twenty-three text messages and four more missed calls and two voicemails, I groaned at the thought of clearing them out, but my neurosis wouldn’t allow me to leave the little red bubbles on the corners of my apps on my cell screen.

Collier: You can’t avoid me forever.

Collier: Giselle, we need to talk.

Collier: It was just a kiss. Why won’t you answer?

Collier: Seriously, this is ridiculous.

Collier: Don’t make me show up at your house. I’m starting to feel like a stalker.

Collier: Dammit, Giselle. Answer the phone.

Each one after was more of the same, and I rolled my eyes in frustration. It was too early for this. Maybe I’d be able to figure out how to deal with my screwup in the next five miles, but I wasn’t going to be able to do it lying in bed. And I wasn’t going to try. With each message I read, and the subsequent voicemails I listened to, my motivation to do anything other than hide under the covers waned.

I found no more clarity in my run than I had in my bed. When I arrived home, sweaty and in need of a shower, I further impacted my day by breaking one of my perfectly manicured nails. My boss would be in the office, so switching polishes wasn’t a possibility, and I had no time to do it before work. It was shallow, and I knew anyone else would think it was stupid, but my imperfect fingers were just icing on the cake of my already blemished life. I was beyond frustrated with myself and my situation, and this just put me over the edge.

I had to respond to Collier, even if all I did was blow it off. Otherwise, I knew the onslaught of communication attempts would continue, and I couldn’t deal with it today…and maybe never.

Me: Sorry, West. Crashed early last night. We’ll talk soon.

His reply came through immediately, as though he’d had his phone in his hand at six in the morning, waiting for me to grace him with an answer.

Collier: When, Giselle?

Me: Soon.

The bubbles came up next to his name and then stopped. I watched as they started again and quit. But they didn’t come back, and another message never came through. I sighed with my reprieve before showering and facing another monotonous day at Stearns and Wilkes.

After work, I called Ronnie so she wouldn’t freak out. She’d heard about the escape the night before and laughed at my asinine behavior before making fun of me for twenty minutes. But once she knew I was still breathing, and I had promised to touch base with Beck and Roxie, I turned off my phone so messages wouldn’t be delivered and phone calls wouldn’t come through.

It dawned on me that might not have been the brightest idea when the pounding on my door started around eight that night. When I glanced out the second-story window, there sat Collier’s Porsche. God, I wanted to drive that car. But I refused to go downstairs to answer and hoped he’d give up sooner rather than later. My heart hurt knowing how close he was, and just opening up and letting him in could stop all of this once and for all, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I wasn’t ready to face the embarrassment or the flat-out rejection I’d receive. I stared out the window at his car, and when the racket on the door ceased, I watched as he rounded the red hood. With the driver’s side handle in his grasp, he glanced up, and I swear he saw me—looked me straight in the eyes. And I would bet money I saw the same pain in his features that reflected back at me when I looked in the mirror. My heart broke knowing I put that emotion on his face, and even more to think, he now felt the dismissal I had a week earlier.

I sighed heavily, and my shoulders slumped. This was why I never was able to make relationships work. I sucked at social interaction and clearly hurt someone I cared deeply for…but my pride was more important than soothing his soul.

Pride cometh before the fall, I just had no idea how soon the fall would take place or how hard I’d hit when I landed.

I struggled through the night not sleeping worth a shit, which made my run Friday morning even worse. My legs ached with every step, and each mile was slower than the last. I was late getting home and in the shower before work, but luckily, I would be alone in the office, so if I wasn’t there right at nine o’clock, no one would be the wiser. I grabbed my nail polish choice for the day, stuffed it into my new purse that didn’t bring me the happiness it should have, and took off out the door. At least I’d get to fix my fingers before the day was over, but that was about all I had to look forward to. Facing a weekend alone because I was unwilling to admit to my girlfriends what I’d done just didn’t appeal to me. But it didn’t make me so unhappy that I gave in, either. My stubborn streak was a mile wide.

There had been a flurry of activity when I first arrived at Stearns and Wilkes, but once I’d answered the calls, greeted the few people who stopped by to pick things up or drop them off, I was finally able to focus on my pitiful nails. I cut them all down to match the broken length, filed them, and buffed them until they were perfect, and then dug the OPI, “Pen & Pink,” from my bag.