Chapter 27: Tolerance (Indie’s POV)
I walked into the apartment after my classes from today and found Moretz sitting on the couch, working on her canvas.
It’s been a week since we all spent the night at Wabara’s apartment. I remember everything I said, I remember crying, I remember falling asleep in his arms. I also remember both of us waking up the next morning and acting like nothing fucking happened. And we continued dancing to the same dance this week. Acting indifferent, and dumb, and confused. And after dancing to the same dance this whole week, I’m exhausted.
I made sure this past week that I didn’t spend the nights at his house. If we had sex, that’s all we did. I would leave right after that. And if we were together outside of that or classes, I made sure he didn’t drop me home. I would get my own ride, whether that be hailing a cab or walking.
I closed the door behind me and Moretz shot up to her feet, turning to me. “Indie.”
“Not now, please,” I sighed. “I’m really sleepy.”
“Because you didn’t sleep last night.”
I sighed again, sitting on the kitchen barstool and putting my head down. She’s been trying to convince me to tell Wabara how I feel since that night and I’ve been avoiding it. But she’s growing frustrated and she’s about to snap at me right now. I can sense.
“Indie, what the fuck do you think you’re doing to yourself?”
I spun around and looked at her blankly.
“You’re killing yourself!” she scolded.
I sighed and looked away from her and stared at the front door.
“Indie,” she sighed, walking over to me. “Relationships aren’t meant to test your tolerance.”
I refused to look at her. I ran my hand through my hair and blinked, feeling my eyes tearing up.
“It’s been a week since you got drunk and vulnerable in front of him. A week and I still hear you crying every night because you aren’t spending the nights at his apartment anymore.”
“So what?!” I snapped, standing up. “It’s not about tolerance, I know that! You don’t think I know that, Moretz? But if I’m willing to tolerate it then what is your goddamn problem?”
She watched me silently.
“Why is it such a problem if I just keep quiet about my feelings and keep going?”
“Stop it now, Indie. You’re only hurting yourself.” She stepped closer to me and hugged me.
I pushed her off, clicking my tongue in frustration.
“Indie,” she said, talking softly now.
“Why do I have to tell him?” I sniffled, looking at her.
“How much longer will you let yourself get hurt like this? You always say, ‘just a little longer’ but don’t you think it’s been long enough now?”
I stopped holding it in and cried out once, wiping my cheek as soon as the first tear fell. This whole week, I’ve been crying little by little in my room at night, trying not to make a sound, trying not to break down. And I can’t hold it in anymore.
She hugged me again and I hugged her back this time, crying on her shoulder for at least twenty minutes. She rubbed my back and once I had calmed down and pulled away, I sniffled, wiped my cheeks, my eyes, my nose. “It’s okay, at least you’ve let it out now.” She nodded in understanding, patting my arm.
I sat back down and she got a water bottle for me. I sighed, tying my hair up in a bun. I drank down the water and then looked up at her. “Thank you, Chlo.”