S I X T Y - S E V E N

ELIZABETH.

—SEVEN MONTHS LATER.

It’s been nine months since I left San Francisco and exactly seven months since James was here.

I thought that day was the last time I’d hear from him, but he had other plans. Since he left, he texted me every single day. He keeps me in a loop with everything that happens in his life; how his every day goes, what new things happen, and all other unnecessary stuff I never asked to know about. It’s like I’m his diary and he doesn’t care I don’t reply to his messages, he keeps sending those texts anyway, and at first, I found myself annoyed by them—I was once close to actually blocking him—but there was a small part of me that enjoyed that. There’s a part of me that loves knowing everything that goes on with James, even when I don’t want him close. That part of me looks forward to those texts of his, to what he’d say and what he’d complain about. I’ve tried to not let myself feel that way, but there was no stopping me. I’ve grown too used to them that I fi