Jovie & Bash

Twenty Three || Release

|CHAPTER TWENTY THREE|

As graduation drew closer for some of us, final exams and research papers drew closer for the underclassmen. While some of us were celebrating, the underclassmen were introducing themselves to the city library for the first time that year. And, while that wouldn't necessarily be a problem for most people, it turned into the very thing that began putting space between Bash and I. Suddenly, he had people to assist with finding material suitable for a bibliography, and I started only seeing him after closing hours, or not at all.

In the beginning our lives slowly faded together, and now, just as slowly, they were being pulled apart. And, I guess that's the pattern of it all-if we allow it to happen, that is. Because, I had been allowing it to happen.

Truthfully, I was taking advantage of it all.

I think Bash saw it, too. He recognized the signs, started to smile in a way that told me he knew, kissed me extra long before I would leave, and tried to sway my decision with every gaze into my eyes and every breathy laugh into my ear.

When my graduation cap and gown arrived in the school office for me to pick up, I started to organize all of the gray things in my life back to black and white-for the sake of my sanity-for the sake of trying to be able to cope. Because, we all go back to the things that are familiar to us when we falter, after all.

There was something about holding that gown up to my shoulders in the mirror when I got home-something that made my breath catch. And, just like that, I knew it was time. I had to stop pretending, now.

But, I dreaded it. Every time Bash would run his fingers through my hair or say a silly word that was too embellished for the conversation or kiss me under the lamppost outside my house...I dreaded what had to come. I knew I wouldn't be able to do what was best for both of us without breaking something. Because, unlike bones, hearts don't heal so quick. It throbs for what feels like ages, and the regret makes the whole world seem blurry for a while.

And, yet, to save the hopeless romantic and push the closet romantic to fall in love with herself, for once, the whole messy ordeal had to be done.

"Today?" Quinn had asked as we biked down our street after school, feet idle on the pedals as we slowed before her house. She winced as the chickens began to squawk at us, even at this distance.

Her lovely hair was all thrown up in a knot, and her lipgloss shimmered in the light, but she frowned at me in a way that made the pretty disappear.

"Every time I look at the gown, I feel like I can't breathe. It's taunting me."

She snorted and shook her head. "Melodramatic, much? Just put it back in the box. Take advantage of your time with Bash. He's a diamond in the rough, if you ask me."

We stopped in her driveway and she crossed her arms when she looked at me. I looked down at my chipping toenail polish.

"The sooner this is over with, the sooner I can stop feeling bad about it-because I constantly feel awful," I told her, grimacing.

"Maybe that's your gut telling you it's the wrong move," she suggested as she swung her leg over and stood beside her bike. "Think about it."

"I have," I groaned. "Nobody gets it. This isn't a selfish move, it's for both of us. I care about him, that's why I'm doing this. He doesn't know he's hurting himself. He's blinded that way. He's like Henry."

"Great, then he'll never get over you." She smiled in a forced way that wasn't convincing.

My stomach flipped. "Don't say that."