Love, Creekwood (Simonverse #3.5)(5)
xoxo
Abby
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: OCT 1 AT 10:16 AM
SUBJECT: RE: A QUESTION
Clown-centered attractions are totally a thing!! I’m thinking circuses, funhouses, clown museums (I feel like clown museums exist, probably?). Anyway, GREAT question, but nope, not a metaphor. And DC suburbs are fine—I think Kellan’s parents actually live in the suburbs, now that you mention it. And by the way, I don’t hate Kellan!! But he says he’s hanging around campus the first part of fall break, and I need him to GTFO and go home early to be with his clowns. He likes clowns. A lot. (Anyway, tell Molly and Cassie thank you from me!) So, Bram and me.
First of all, Abby, you’re not overstepping! I’m sorry I haven’t been more open about stuff. I just feel so weird about the whole thing. I guess I didn’t expect it to be this hard. Which is probably really naive of me? But the thing is, so many couples do this! All the time! And in the grand scheme of things, New York to Philly is nothing. Like, we’re so fucking lucky. I got him a week ago, and I get him back on Friday, and Abby, I don’t know why this is so unbearable. I just miss him so much.
Anyway, I love you, and thank you, and hug Leah for me, okay? I mean you’re probably already hugging RIGHT THIS SECOND, aren’t you (is “hugging” a euphemism? I don’t know, you tell me!).
Miss you too, Abby Suso. ?
Love,
Simon
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: OCT 7 AT 1:12 AM
SUBJECT: RE: THIS IS WEIRD, RIGHT??
It’s so weird. I keep looking up from my phone expecting you to be there, and nope—it’s just fifty-fucking-million printed manga drawings. You’re too far away. I don’t like it. And I miss you, which I realize makes me downright insufferable. Oh no, I have to sleep in a different room than my girlfriend for three nights. Better cue up the world’s tiniest violin.
But I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to properly write back. Someone wanted to watch Mamma Mia! again (actually, make that two someones, because apparently Wells knows all the words to Dancing Queen. Who knew?). And you’re on my shit list, Abby Suso, because I never cry at this movie. Why is Mamma Mia! hitting so different?? What have you done to me???
Anyway, tomorrow should be quite the fucking scene. You sure you don’t want us to bring a side dish at least? I think my mom’s really worried your parents will hate her. Like, she keeps talking about how excited she is, but she gets this kind of frantic look when she says it. Just to warn you, she has very little filter when she’s nervous, but I’ll be ready and primed to run interference if necessary. And of course, she and Wells have both gotten the full rundown of what your parents do and don’t know. (I have to say, I kind of love the fact that your parents know I’m your girlfriend. They just don’t know I’m your roommate. And we’ll make sure they continue to not know.) So, I’ll see you soon. And until then, I’ll just lie here in my childhood bed, giving over my entire existence to a certain four-letter L word. (Lazy. The word is lazy.) (Among others.) Miss you, Suso.
Cordially,
LCB
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: OCT 7 AT 9:34 PM
SUBJECT: RE: THIS IS WEIRD, RIGHT??
Happy last night without me!!!!!!! Honestly, you should be taking advantage of this. Sow all your non-Abby wild oats and . . . watch a movie with subtitles? Read a bunch of books with bookmarks? Frankly, I don’t even know what you’d do without me. So maybe we scratch the whole wild oats idea and just text each other all night?
Dinner went well, don’t you think? I’m pretty sure my mom wants to adopt your mom (also, I think she thinks your mom’s, like, twenty-five, which is some interesting math!). Really sorry about the church thing, Leah. I promise she’s not trying to make some kind of statement. She’s not even that religious. She just wants to show you off to her church friends (it’s actually pretty cute—she’s already told them all about us, and I think she even cropped Garrett out of some of our prom pictures. Whoops!).
Definitely a close call, though, when my dad asked about your roommate. Man, you and your mom are such hilarious opposites. She’s sitting there, eyes popping out of their sockets, looking like she just swallowed twenty hot peppers. But you? You just did your little half shrug and said, “She’s nice. We’re actually working on an anatomy project together.” You didn’t even glance at me for a second when you said it. You’re such a goddamn flirt, Leah Burke. YOU DON’T EVEN TAKE ANATOMY. (Also you had me feeling things I should NOT be feeling at my parents’ dinner table, so thanks a fuckton for that, you jerk.) Text me when you’re up. ?
xoxo,
Abby
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected]
DATE: OCT 7 AT 10:11 PM
SUBJECT: RE: PRETTY SURE I MISS YOU MORE
Dear Jacques,
Well, I’m home. And I’ve been staring at this email for about twenty minutes, grasping around for something upbeat to say. But I’m coming up empty. It’s just getting harder and harder. I can’t believe I woke up this morning with your head in the crook of my neck, your hand on my chest. Simon, I can’t even tell you how empty my room feels. I want to be back in Philly, looking at all the trees by the duck pond, and kissing you behind Drinker House, because apparently it really does exist (and for the record, if kissing you is my punishment, I’ll happily lose every bet we ever make).