I stare at the screen for a second too long, my heart aching for him.
Me:
I never would’ve guessed that about you.
Six:
I guess I’m good at hiding it. But I don’t want to hide from you.
Me:
You don’t have to. You can say whatever you want to me. That’s the best thing about the anonymity.
It takes him a while to reply back, but I keep my eyes locked on the screen until his message pops up.
Six:
I can walk into a room, say all the right things, make people laugh. But the second I’m alone, it feels like no one really sees me.
I pin my bottom lip between my teeth. It’s been just me for so long now, that I’ve gotten used to the quiet. I’ve gotten used to not being needed by anyone, or invited anywhere or thought of when making plans.
Me:
Here’s my confession. I think I’ve gotten too good at being alone. It’s practically muscle memory.
I hit send, and blow out a breath, squeezing my eyes closed. The whole reason we started sending each other these confessions was to be able to tell each other things no one else could. But this is different. It feels like letting him into my mind.
Six:
That makes me so sad. I hate the thought of you being alone.
My nose burns as I start to feel moisture building in my eyes, but I quickly shake it off, typing out a reply.
Me:
I don’t feel it as much when I’m texting you.
I curl further into my blankets and let out a long, slow breath.
Six:
I wish I was there for real. You’d never be alone again.
My chest pulls tight. I wish that could happen so bad. I wish I was brave enough to tell him who I am, and to meet up with him, and take this… friendship—or whatever it is we have—out of the texts.
Me:
What would you do? If you were here.
The second I send it, my stomach flips. Regret blooms in my chest, but it’s too late, because he replies almost instantly.
Six:
Right now?
Me:
Right now.
