Chapter 7

Pat

Somewhere between waiting for him to respond, my tired eyes glide across the message I sent him again. The tiredness that held my brain since arriving home washes away in that instant as I see what I have written. My brows shoot to my forehead just as I sit upright and start typing hard on the phone screen. My heart drums as I wish I could turn back the hands of time. 

He’s already typing something, but I cannot possibly wait for him to respond to that. 

So, I delete the message before he gets to respond and let out a sigh, dragging my fingers through my already tousled hair. I wonder what might have made me type that.  

He’s still typing. Once again, I don’t wait for the message to drop before sending out mine. I hope this will cover up for the typo.

“Hey,” I write.

I lie back on the comfy bed. I look up at the ceiling as thoughts of my day at school occur to me, sucking my attention away second by second. 

Ting