I don't want him to just see me. But really see …me.
Liana
I shouldn't have sent it. I knew it the second I hit send.
But it was too late.
I stared at the screen like maybe it would blink back at me.
Nothing.
A minute passed. Then five. Then ten.
My stomach twisted itself into a knot.
He's busy.
He fell asleep.
He didn't see it yet.
—Lies, all of them. But I said them anyway.
Because the alternative?
He saw it. And didn't care.
Or worse— He saw it. And knew exactly what it meant.
I rolled over, burying my face in the pillow.
This is stupid.
It was just a school assignment. Just a message.
Except it wasn't.
I wanted him to see it. Not the slides.
Me.
I wanted him to be proud.
To tell me I did good.
To say something soft with that voice he only uses when it's just us.
I clutched the blanket tighter.
Why did I do this?
Why did I care so much?
I opened my phone again.
Still nothing.
Typed: "Sorry if that was weird. Forget I sent it."
Deleted it.
Typed: "Nvm lol I was just excited."
Deleted it.
I turned the screen off.
Tried not to think about his face.
The way he'd looked at me in the kitchen. The way he'd held me after the bar.
How close his hands had gotten before he pulled away.
He didn't say anything. He didn't do anything wrong.
But something changed.
I felt it.
And now I couldn't stop wondering what he was thinking.
If he was lying in bed like me.
Staring at the ceiling.
Wanting to say something—
But scared of what it would mean if he did.
I closed my eyes.
Whispered into the dark: "Please say something."
But my phone stayed quiet. So I fell asleep with it in my hand.
And dreamed of a message that never came.