Maths wasn’t even half way through and already I was struggling to stay awake. I sat there listening to my teacher rabble on about algebra, and usually all my attention would be directed to him since I actually quite enjoyed algebraic equations, but instead my head laid there on my folded arms across the table, too tired to understand what he was on about.
It was a good thing I was sitting at the back of the class so the teacher didn’t notice the absence of my attention, or anyone’s for that matter. My eyes drifted around the side of the room that was visible in my position; people were either staring at the swirly drawing in the middle of the fan, doodling in their books, texting with their phone under the table, or just staring into blankness.
My eyes continued to look around and stayed out the window. A cute boy in the year above me was walking past the window; I wasn’t the only one to notice. My eyes continued to stare outside; watching the clouds slowly pass behind the buildings of other classes until they were no longer in sight, until I felt the front pocket of my dress vibrate. It tickled my chest and I immediately shot up but no-one noticed my strange reaction. When the teacher was looking in a different direction, I slowly pulled my hand up toward my chest and grabbed my phone as I must have gotten a message. I hid it under the table and slightly leaned back so I had a better view.
I was relieved to see it was a message from an actual person and not one of those messages from the phone company as usual. It was from a number not saved in my phone. It was from, him.
It was his number, even though I had deleted him from my contacts. I knew that number. I had remembered it off by heart only after a week of being with him. I called that number almost every night, due to the fact he couldn’t call me as it would annoy my parents and I had lost my mobile. But I was so sure that was him, but why?
My heart sank and my stomach did flips. I felt nausea, and nervous. Definitely nervous.
Why him, out of all the people who text me, him? We hadn’t spoken in months, not since the night we broke up. Why in the world would he be texting me? Maybe he came to his senses and realised how much I loved him. How much I needed him. And how much he needed me? No, I shan’t get carried away. I won’t get my hopes up. That’s a stupid accusation anyway. He wouldn’t still love me; he’s over me.
But why would he text me?
After 30 seconds of hesitation I finally had the guts to press open message. I looked away from the screen of my phone, worried as to what the message said. I looked around the room and nothing changed; people were still out of it, and the teacher was still going on about some non-sense. I looked back down at the screen to read the message.
I miss you. I love you. I’m sorry.
Could this really be? Did I just read that text correctly? Could my dreams really be coming true? I swear I had dreamt about this a million times before.
Oh, how I missed him. I never wanted him to leave; he should have never left. It was stupid, and hard, but it would be better now. No problems.
I soon realised I had forgotten how to breathe and went very lightheaded. I dropped my phone onto my lap and grabbed onto the desk to steady myself. The room was spinning and I thought I was about to have another round of lunch. I took deep breaths which seemed to help apart from the fact my heart was doing acrobats. But this just didn’t seem real.
Would things really be back to how it was only 5 months ago; when my life was perfect, until my ‘best friend’ started getting involved? Before she secretly hated me and filled my head with lies about him? Before she became so damn jealous of him and I?
I couldn’t help but close my eyes and imagine how things used to be. His mum driving me back to my house and falling asleep on his shoulder in the car ride. Playing Pictionary with his family and never wanting the night to end. Talking until daylight about anything that came to mind. Holding me tight and kissing me every chance he got. Telling me he loved me, every single day. Whispering my name, the sound of heaven.
“Amber”
“Amber”
“Amber?”
“Amber?”
“Amber?!”
I immediately lifted my head up to sound that was no longer a whisper, and went into the normal sitting position. The teacher was staring at me and must have called upon me.
“The answer for ‘C’?” he asked me impatiently.
“Oh, um, ex squared take three?”
He looked down at the sheet in his hands and nodded. “Correct.”
I rested back into my chair and sighed. My eyes closed and I felt the back of my eye lids becoming warm and watery. I was disappointed, and sad, that after five months, I’m still at the same place I was the night after our relationship ended. The night after my heart was broken. The night a part of me died.
Note to self: don’t fall asleep in class again, yeah?
It was a good thing I was sitting at the back of the class so the teacher didn’t notice the absence of my attention, or anyone’s for that matter. My eyes drifted around the side of the room that was visible in my position; people were either staring at the swirly drawing in the middle of the fan, doodling in their books, texting with their phone under the table, or just staring into blankness.
My eyes continued to look around and stayed out the window. A cute boy in the year above me was walking past the window; I wasn’t the only one to notice. My eyes continued to stare outside; watching the clouds slowly pass behind the buildings of other classes until they were no longer in sight, until I felt the front pocket of my dress vibrate. It tickled my chest and I immediately shot up but no-one noticed my strange reaction. When the teacher was looking in a different direction, I slowly pulled my hand up toward my chest and grabbed my phone as I must have gotten a message. I hid it under the table and slightly leaned back so I had a better view.
I was relieved to see it was a message from an actual person and not one of those messages from the phone company as usual. It was from a number not saved in my phone. It was from, him.
It was his number, even though I had deleted him from my contacts. I knew that number. I had remembered it off by heart only after a week of being with him. I called that number almost every night, due to the fact he couldn’t call me as it would annoy my parents and I had lost my mobile. But I was so sure that was him, but why?
My heart sank and my stomach did flips. I felt nausea, and nervous. Definitely nervous.
Why him, out of all the people who text me, him? We hadn’t spoken in months, not since the night we broke up. Why in the world would he be texting me? Maybe he came to his senses and realised how much I loved him. How much I needed him. And how much he needed me? No, I shan’t get carried away. I won’t get my hopes up. That’s a stupid accusation anyway. He wouldn’t still love me; he’s over me.
But why would he text me?
After 30 seconds of hesitation I finally had the guts to press open message. I looked away from the screen of my phone, worried as to what the message said. I looked around the room and nothing changed; people were still out of it, and the teacher was still going on about some non-sense. I looked back down at the screen to read the message.
I miss you. I love you. I’m sorry.
Could this really be? Did I just read that text correctly? Could my dreams really be coming true? I swear I had dreamt about this a million times before.
Oh, how I missed him. I never wanted him to leave; he should have never left. It was stupid, and hard, but it would be better now. No problems.
I soon realised I had forgotten how to breathe and went very lightheaded. I dropped my phone onto my lap and grabbed onto the desk to steady myself. The room was spinning and I thought I was about to have another round of lunch. I took deep breaths which seemed to help apart from the fact my heart was doing acrobats. But this just didn’t seem real.
Would things really be back to how it was only 5 months ago; when my life was perfect, until my ‘best friend’ started getting involved? Before she secretly hated me and filled my head with lies about him? Before she became so damn jealous of him and I?
I couldn’t help but close my eyes and imagine how things used to be. His mum driving me back to my house and falling asleep on his shoulder in the car ride. Playing Pictionary with his family and never wanting the night to end. Talking until daylight about anything that came to mind. Holding me tight and kissing me every chance he got. Telling me he loved me, every single day. Whispering my name, the sound of heaven.
“Amber”
“Amber”
“Amber?”
“Amber?”
“Amber?!”
I immediately lifted my head up to sound that was no longer a whisper, and went into the normal sitting position. The teacher was staring at me and must have called upon me.
“The answer for ‘C’?” he asked me impatiently.
“Oh, um, ex squared take three?”
He looked down at the sheet in his hands and nodded. “Correct.”
I rested back into my chair and sighed. My eyes closed and I felt the back of my eye lids becoming warm and watery. I was disappointed, and sad, that after five months, I’m still at the same place I was the night after our relationship ended. The night after my heart was broken. The night a part of me died.
Note to self: don’t fall asleep in class again, yeah?
PJD17
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