Followed ✓

23

I lied to Val.

Add it to the laundry list of my sins, but I couldn't bring myself to admit the truth. I heard from Andrew almost every single day.

It wasn't like we were extremely close. We still hadn't seen each other since the night I tried to make out with his cast mate, and I had no intention of changing that anytime soon. Hell, I didn't even respond to him when he sent me a text.

But he kept sending them. Every single day, without exception, I received a text from Andrew Shepherd.

I had a collection of them by now, most of them comprised of a single sentence, and each one sent a fresh wave of pain through my heart. Like shards of glass ripping their way through my body and lodging themselves into my chest, they tore away at the jagged remains of my soul. I wanted to beg him to stop sending them, to tell him that I hated him and never wanted to hear from him again, but I couldn't bring myself to tell that lie.

Not when, over the course of six months, I still hadn't gotten over him.

Funny how that works, isn't it? Only a week after I met him, my world went to shit. Tilted off its axis, it was all I could do to hold on for dear life. Within a month, I'd started down a path of self-destruction that led me directly to here. I should've asked for help, I should've done something other than what I did, but instead I was stubborn. I self-medicated. I clung to the belief that I was doing this for "what's best," whatever the hell that meant.

I hated myself for what I'd done to Andrew - what I was still doing to him - and yet I couldn't bring myself to stop.

I liked him, more than I cared to admit, and it got worse - not better - over the course of time. His daily text messages made me feel special in a way I was completely unused to feeling, and - even as I pushed him further away - he never turned on me. He never got angry with me.

Sometimes I wished he would.

Instead, I dealt with the deadly silence. I was forced to watch as he started seeing Danielle more often, overhearing tidbits of her stories at work, and seeing them pop up on social media and the news. The number of followers I'd gained from our short stint in the media dwindled rapidly, and the comments trickled down to a bare minimum. Only a few still stooped to mention me every now and again, mostly commenting on how I was the girl who 'almost' dated Lincoln Shepherd.

The paparazzi stopped hounding me as soon as Danielle and Andrew were seen in public together. After their first date, she was labeled 'America's sweetheart' with her large doe eyes and ever-present smile. She agreed to select interviews, probably hand-picked by Andrew's publicist Jazmin, and always seemed amiable and welcoming without giving off the vibe that she was in it for the attention.

I quickly sunk into the background, no longer worth mentioning, and I was glad for it. Less people to witness my descent into oblivion.

Andrew's texts were the final reminder of that portion of my life, the moment that disappeared in a blink of an eye, and - as much as I hated them - I was glad they hadn't stopped. Normally he kept it simple, asking if I was okay or telling me to have a good day. Sometimes he asked me what happened, why I stopped speaking to him, why I wouldn't respond to any of his texts. He told me that he still cared about me, as a friend, and that he wanted to help. He urged me to talk to Val, to Danielle, to my other friends, to him....to anyone. Other times he sent photos from set, gorgeous nature shots from the various locations he traveled to with his work, as well as silly photos with cast mates.