https://youtu.be/cl6W1QV0gEM

*Note: Click the Youtube link above to listen to the Audiobook Version of this chapter voiced by kaelking12 (Kristen M.) featuring music by Tegan and Sara and Ok Go.

Alex

Everybody says you're supposed to live life without regrets. That somehow, every single decision you make will pan out perfectly like you're living out some kind of real life RomCom.

Never mind spilling your secrets all over the Internet.

Never mind ruining one relationship while revisiting the other.

Because in sparkle-sunshine-happy-land, all of your problems will melt away like sugar in the rain.

If you're like my mother, who starts out her days cracked out on optimism, there's no such thing as missteps or mistakes.

Why?

Because your future is made of butterflies and rainbows, that's why. And nothing in this glitter-filled world could ever bring you down.

Except the truth.

And I just littered the truth all over cyber space.

Which partially makes me want to kill myself/scream at my parents for raising me thinking that I should live life without regrets.

Because at this very moment, I am made of regrets.

I am currently buried under my quilt silently hyperventilating while regret crushes my airways.

My parents are liars.

Why? Because real people living real lives regret just about everything, that's why.

Eating too much candy? Regret. Not working out as much as you should be? Regret. Posting extremely personal and revealing responses to your ex's novel on a public class forum? REGRET.

Now, normally in a situation like this, I wouldn't panic because of three beautiful buttons called Control, Alt, Delete. The undo button is a girl's best friend. Especially if you're a girl who's prone to minor panic attacks--like me.

Even my Gmail has an "unsend" option for people who are generally unsure of everything, which is why I love all things Google.

But what I don't love, is the fact that there's a team of sycophant programmers responsible for my UCLA English forum who do not believe in second chances.

There is no auto-correct your regrets button.

Once you've posted, you've posted, and everyone and their grandmother can see your words, comment on your thoughts, and read into the broken pieces of your past relationship like it's plastered all over the front page of the New York Times.

Okay.

Maybe that's extreme.

There's barely ten people in my class discussion--but one of those ten people is the harbinger of romantic doom and destruction.

I shut my eyes, lean back against my pillows, and try to block out the image of what Elias's face will look like when he reads my post. But instead of peacefully fading to black, my mind turns into a cinema projector.

I see him laughing, recoiling, cringing and suddenly I'm cringing. The muscles in my stomach ball themselves into tiny little fists and punch holes through my self-esteem.

I shouldn't have posted. I should've gracefully accepted my well-deserved "F", forgotten about reading the book all together, and gone back to convincing myself that Elias was gay.

That was a better reality. At least when he was fictionally dating Dan, I had some limited sense of inner peace.

But all that's gone to hell now because apparently he's not in love with Dan.

He's--

--in love with me.

He's in love with me?

How did?

When did---that happen?

Last time I checked, I was not the girl boys fell in love with.

I was the girl who fell and shattered and ended up resigning herself to spinsterhood because it made more sense than hoping for a happy ending.

Guys and girls who meet the way Elias and I did and do the things Elias and I did, do not end up in love.

Unless--its written in a romance novel.

Romance novels are chockfull of that kind of fairytale crap, so maybe what's really happened is that Elias is--

--fictionally in love with me.

That makes sense.

That makes total sense because who he is on paper is lightyears away from the boy who's more fluent in body language than he is in English.

Fact.

Not only that, but his book is officially categorized in "Teen Fiction", NOT, autobiography, or memoir, or anything else that would constitute anything he said in those pages as actual, provable facts.

Therefore, my official opinion when it comes to the contents of "Letters to Jersey" being fact or fiction is that the whole thing sounds like complete and total...

...truth.

Even if I'm not ready for it to be.

Even though part of me wishes I could classify everything I just read as nonsense, there's too much honesty in his words to write them off.

Too much to keep denying.

I guess I just never expected anyone to write me anything, much less him and--

--much less this.

Elias's letters are unbelievable.

Unbelievably written.

Unbelievably honest.

But what's more unbelievable than the letters themselves is the fact that I've actually gone crazy enough to respond to three of them.

Is this what break-ups do? Send you flying back to your ex within a couple hours of your former boyfriend deciding to put you on the "Do Not Respond" list?

If so, then I don't want to be in a relationship with anyone.

Adopting a cat, or twenty, who love me unconditionally is far less complicated than trying to figure out my feelings for the two of these men.

I stare down at my iPad and run my fingers along the screen until I reach the last page of Elias's third chapter. My eyes find their way back to the lines my heart and mind are still struggling to understand.

I shut my eyes hoping when I open them the book in front of me will spontaneously disappear. But it doesn't. It stares me straight in the face until I break.

I crumple against the wall while the echo of Elias's words wash over me. I should be happy. I should feel more whole than I have in the year since he left, but I don't.

His letters rip open the scars under my skin and spill my sadness all over the floor.

Anger and confusion swallow me to the point where I don't feel worthy of being loved by anyone.

Even though so much of me wants to be.

Even though all I want to do is run back to him and rewrite our mistakes a day at a time.

My hands are tied to two people when I should only belong to one.

Kai deserves to be loved equally in return.

And Elias--

--he deserves someone who can make him happy, someone who won't hesitate or question him, someone who can follow his lead without being afraid of everything.

Without being afraid of him.

A phone call rips through the silence and nearly stops my heart.

FaceTime request from Indigo.

I smash my thumb over the reject button.

I look like hurricane Moonshine.

I'm not Face Timing with anyone while I look like hurricane moonshine--especially Indigo.

Obviously, she looks pretty enough this morning to be confident on camera.

She also looks pretty enough for Elias to want to see her in a bikini.

But who cares.

They can do what they want, how they want, where they want.

As long as they don't force me to watch their date via FaceTime, I'll be fine.

Just fine.

I switch to "audio only" mode and call Indigo back, hoping that the bitterness bubbling in the back of my throat will disappear before she answers.

Outgoing call to Indigo Rose:

AS: Hey, sorry I missed your call earlier. What's up?

IR: Are you still in the dorm?

Of course I am. As a matter of fact I'm actually planning on staying in this exact room in this exact spot until I die and rot on the mattress. Where are you? Galavanting across Southern California with my--with Elias?

AS: Yeah, I'm still here. Why?

IR: I think I left my wallet next to my shrine. It's the one with the ancient Buddhist temple burned into the leather. Do you see it?

AS: Hold on. Let me check.

IR: Sure.

I switch the call to speaker and slide off the bed to start looking for any signs of Indigo's wallet. It would be easier if our dorm had an actual floor, but right now we walk on boxes and suitcases and hemp mats instead. I wobble over to Indigo's somewhat cleaner half of the room and drop down in front of her gold-framed picture of that looks too real to be a printed copy. I stare at his face for a couple seconds, the cold intensity in his eyes sparks a thousand goosebumps across my skin.

They're so much like Elias's used to be.

The same darkness, the distance he used to slip into whenever he'd mention his past.

This morning I saw that sadness resurface in his present.

The look he gave me back in the hallway is the same one mirrored on Morrison's face.

The familiarity bothers and confuses me to the point where I force myself to turn away from it before I go back to being the old me again.

The girl who saw her ghost in everything.

Bathroom floors.

Broken mirrors.

Sterile offices.

Everywhere.

Even now, I see Elias in photographs of dead rock stars. He's still--

EK: Did she pick up?

Elias's voice sputters over the phone line, and my whole body freezes.

IR: Shh. You realize she can probably hear you, right?

EK: Nah, we're golden. If she hears me over your loud hippy music, I'll give her a medal. I can barely hear myself think, so she won't hear anything.

IR: That's probably 'cause you don't do a lot of thinking.

EK: Easy on the insults, Idaho. I'm in a delicate state this morning. Anyway, is she okay? Is she still crying?

Great. He saw me crying. That's exactly what I wanted out of this morning. Tears and crushing embarrassment. #lifegoals

IR: Why would I know any of those things? I walked in on your little situation, I wasn't a part of it.

EK: Yeah, but you're a girl. Chicks know that stuff about each other. It's like ECP, or ESPN or whatever that sixth sense you guys have that us dudes don't.

IR: I don't know what you're talking about.

EK: Whatever, just ask her what she's up to, and how she is, and what she's doing. I wanna know if that asshole's still around and if they--

IR: If you're so interested in talking to her, why don't you pick up your phone and call her yourself?

EK: No! I can't do that. I'm supposed to be pissed at her remember?

IR: Yes, I remember, but I'm not the one who's trying to spy on my ex-girlfriend, am I?

EK: Wait, you have an ex-girlfriend?

IR: No, it was an analogy.

EK: Well, I don't know what an anatomy is but, love is love, Indigo.

IR: You're an idiot, Elias.

EK: Please don't talk to me like that. You sound so much like her right now that it's mildly turning me on, and I don't like being turned on when I'm depressed. Sad boners are the worst.

IR: Okay, how 'bout we make a rule that prevents you from talking for the rest of the day. You're ruining the vibe between us.

EK: What vibe?

IR: If you close your eyes and focus your thoughts on our energy, you'll feel it.

EK: Oh! You mean our date vibe!

IR: Wow. Okay, look, explaining things to you is pointless, so cease all speaking and take off your clothes.

EK: What?

IR: We can't do this if you have your clothes on. You want the full experience, right?

EK: Depends on what your thinking about doing to me.

IR: Strip, and you'll find out.

EK: Are you always this kinky? When I first met you, I never would've thought that you were into this kinda--

AS: I found your wallet, Indigo!

Please don't be having sex with him over the phone, please don't be having sex with him over the--

IR: You are a lifesaver. Actually, I was gonna ask another really big favor, but you don't have to do it if it's too much hassle. 

AS: Sure, what do you need?

Stay positive, Alex. Everything's fine. Everything is fine and dandy.

IR: Could you bring it to me by any chance?

And run into Elias? Nope.

AS: Um--

IR: It's kind of important. I can text you the address.

Go right ahead, Indigo. I'll just hop on the next bus and drop off your wallet right in the middle of you and Elias's Kama Sutra session. My pleasure.

AS: Yeah, I can. I don't have class today, so I'll meet you guys wherever you want.

What are you saying, Alex? What. Are. You. Saying. No was the only word that was supposed to come out of your mouth, but here we are!

IR: I owe you one. Take bus 720 towards Downtown LA and get off at West Olympic , Suite 1. Ring the buzzer, and somebody will let you in as long as you say the password.

AS: Which is?

EK: Indigo, get over here!

IR: Sorry, Alex. Hold on.

EK: Indigo!

IR: Patience. I'm still on the phone.

EK: I get that, but you can't just leave me all naked and sweaty like this and expect me to wait around forever! Let's get the penetration started before I regret doing all this.

IR: Give me a minute, and I'll be all yours.

EK: Finally.

IR: I'm back. Sorry about the--interruption. The password's "Kama Sutra". Text when you're close. Gotta go.

AS: Indigo, wait. I-I'm not really good at directions so could you stay on the phone with me until I get there?

IR:....

AS: Indigo?

EK: Sorry, Indigo can't come to the phone right now. I'm keeping her very busy, but we'll catch up you in a little bit. Take your time, though. Wouldn't want you walking in on anything that would make you uncomfortable. See you soon, Jersey.

Call ended at 3:41 PM.

***

(Thank you guys so much for reading and listening to the Audiobook if you did! Who's listening? Do we have any new listeners? Let us know if you are! Kristen aka kaelking12 and I really appreciate you being so patient! We hope you guys had a fantastic holiday season and are enjoying the new year! Next update will be on Tuesday! What do you guys thing will happen next ;)?)