𝕯arlene woke up with a pounding headache and two missed calls from Harry.

She'd only just managed to haul herself out of bed at half past noon and grabbed her phone from the nightstand when her eyes turned the size of giant saucers.

The notification for two missed calls from 'harry' was enough to have her lose complete control of herself as the phone slipped through her fingers and just as it was about to fall out of her grasp, she threw it to the other side of the bed.

The device innocently rested at the end of the bed inches away from where she sat, wide eyed against the pillow while frantically pulling at the roots of her hair.

What in God's name have I done?

It felt as though the phone itself was laced in poison ivy, one touch and she was done for.

She couldn't bring herself to check the notifications again, but if she needed Tom to yell at her a little less than he already would when informed about her past night's actions then she needed to be sure about the situation.

Turns out, Harry had only called her twice.

No messages, no voice-mails.

Just two missed calls from the man whose heart she broke because of her own stupidity.

Okay, maybe it wasn't just her stupidity because she genuinely was, you know . . . . scared, she's never ever been in love this way.

All her life was spent reading about the kind of love she dreamt of, watching her mother fall in and out of love with men until Edward came along and finally managed to make her feel the happiness she'd been chasing.

She had never once thought that one day, she herself would experience something as intense, something that would have an irreplaceable chokehold on her life.

And so, meeting Harry, realising that she too could have someone permanent in her life, someone who'd accept her flaws and all was the scariest feeling of all because it felt like her entire belief system had been altered in a matter of few months.

Sighing heavily, Darlene pushes off the bed and exits the room finding herself stood in front of a very concerned Tom just two minutes later.

She found him out back by the pool and decided to drop the bomb right then and there.

She shoves the phone in his hands, letting him scroll through her call log to confirm that yes, Harry had called her twice last night.

Only thing is, she still hasn't told him why.

"Mind explaining why he decided to randomly call you last night when he hasn't made any attempt to contact you ever since you walked out on him?".

She sits on the lounge chair beside him, her face covered by her hands and a groaning sound escaping her mouth at the question.

Tom sits up at once.

"Dar, what the fuck did you do?".

"I", she inhales removing her hands from her face, "left him a voice-mail last night".

Tom facepalms falling back on his own chair with a thud.

"No, no no no. Drunken voice-mail to your ex? Hello, cliché much?".

Darlene scowls, "Are you going to keep whining about my pathetic life or actually help me? Because if you're just gonna sit there and complain as if I don't already know how big of a dumbass I am then be my guest. I'll just go ask Jake instead".

He laughs throwing her phone towards her which she scrambles to catch, a surprised yelp making it's way past her lips.

"If you think that idiot's gonna solve your boy problems then you seriously need a reality check".

"They're not boy problems", she mumbles fidgeting with the end of the oversized t-shirt she fell asleep in, which funnily enough just so happens to be one she stole from Harry.

Huh.

"No? So this has nothing to do with a boy and the fact that you have a massive problem on your hands?", his brow perks.

"Oh, piss off".

She goes to leave but he tuts, shaking his head.

"Don't, alright? I'll help you. Fine, what'd you say in the voice-mail?".

Gingerly, she sits back down and shakes her head with a grimace.

"That's the thing. I don't remember it very clearly".

Tom shrugs, "Well, what do you remember?".

"Uhm", she seems to think for a few seconds, "I think I told him we're having a lot of fun. Probably said something cheesy like 'I wish you were here' and definitely told him I loved him. Yeah, that's pretty much it".

"Hold on. You called him for the first time since LA and said 'I love you I wish you were here'?", he frowns incredulously.

Darlene bites her lip.

"That's not exactly how I said it but, yeah. I definitely said those things".

"And he hasn't texted you? At all?".

"Nope".

Exhaling, he sits up.

"Okay, do you want him to contact you?".

Her brows furrow, "I don't—I'm not—", she sighs loudly and rubs a hand down her face, "I don't know, Tom. Okay? I don't know. I think—I think I'm just a little freaked out because—well, he called me. He actually called me. And—I don't know, I don't . . . . I don't think I'm ready to deal with this. He probably hates me now, anyway. It's better if I let us both breathe".

His eyes soften at her words. He reaches out a hand to clasp his fingers around hers.

"He doesn't hate you", he speaks softly squeezing her hand.

She looks down at her lap.

"You don't know that".

"Darlene, the man was ready to fight with you just to make you stay. He doesn't hate you. He probably didn't contact you until now because . . . . well, you said you needed space right? And that's what he did. He gave you space. I'm a hundred percent certain he thought contacting you in any way would only push you away more".

At that, her eyes immediately meet his in a sharp glance.

"How do you know so much? Have you—oh my god, have you been talking to him?".

Tom holds his hands up in defence, "I swear he was the one who texted me. And we're friends, Dar. What else did you expect me to do? Tell him I won't talk to him because my best friend broke his heart? I've been against your decision since day one. I'm not about to pretend I didn't want to help him".

She rears back, hurt.

"And it wasn't his fault either", he says quietly.

She sits there staring at him with a betrayed look on her face.

She knows what he's saying is right but it still hurts knowing that all this time, even Tom hasn't been on her side no matter how wrong she is.

Shaking her head, she stands up.

"I'm . . . . I'm gonna go . . . . take a shower or something. I feel like shit", she mumbles walking away from yet another person who tried to mend her broken heart.

***
< drama 333