Open When You Miss Me Novels & Stories

My thumb hovers over it for a second, then I press call. It rings, twice, and then…. “The number you are trying to reach is not available…” I close my eyes. It's the same thing every time, but it still hurts every single time. “Yeah,” I whisper hoarsely. “I figured.” I lower the phone slowly, my grip tightening slightly. “I miss you,” I breathe out, but silence answers me as usual. I open my gallery next to watch her pictures….out pictures. And there she is….. smiling, alive, and real.

I wonder if they miss me, or if I'm just a distant memory, a page turned in their book. I know I should pull myself together, that I should take back control of my life. But right now, all I feel is this emptiness, this absence, this regret. I regret letting myself go, believing in their promises, thinking that this night could be the start of something bigger. I regret opening my heart, making myself vulnerable, surrendering to them.

Gets up to check whatever is in the oven. And I sit at Margaret Callahan's kitchen table eating things she put in front of me and watching the people I love move through a warm room and I think about how none of this was the plan and all of it is exactly right and some things you do not build, some things you just arrive at if you keep your eyes open long enough. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I almost leave it. Then I check it because ignoring things has never been my strongest instinct. It is Dom Pearce.

I take out my phone from my pocket and see Zach's message saying: Zach, 11:30am I am sorry, Tay, about yesterday. Can you please hear me out first, I can explain? I miss you talking to me ☹ I definitely miss talking to him but all I want now is to save myself from a broken heart and switch off my phone without replying to his text. I quickly eat my salad and stand up, telling my friends that I'm going to the toilet. They briskly nod at me and go back to their food. Just as I was about to turn a corner to head to the toilet, someone grabs my hand and my back hits the wall, as blue eyes stare into mine.

ME: Would you meet me for coffee tomorrow? I stared at the message. It sounded too casual. I added: ME: Not at the house. You can choose the place. Then: ME: I am not going to argue. I only want to talk. I sent them. The reply did not come immediately. I forced myself to place the phone down. Ten minutes later, it vibrated. MISSY: Why? I typed. ME: Because I miss you. The honesty made me uncomfortable. It also felt right. A minute passed.

Or… would he pull me into a hungry, desperate kiss that would silence all the torment between us? I’ve missed him—every inch of him—with every fiber in my body. And deep down, I hope he misses me too. God, I want him too. I want him more than I’ve wanted in a long time. My head was still a restless hurricane of thoughts, loud and unruly, when my hand reached out on its own and knocked gently on the door. I wanted to take this chance. I had to. I needed to be brave—brave enough to let him love me, to open the gates I’ve held shut for far too long.

" Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked back into the house, shutting the door behind me with a loud slam. The door was like a final verdict—a steel wall cutting off all ties between me and Quinn. … The next day, the weather had taken a turn. Cold crept into the air as I headed to meet Layla. She was already waiting outside the café. Five years had passed, but she looked just like I remembered—elegant, poised, calm. I caught myself watching her, lost in the memory of who she used to be. Sensing my stare, she turned. When our eyes met, her expression flickered with surprise, then softened into a smile. "It's freezing out here. Why didn't you go inside?" We sat down, and she aske

I turned slowly, heading in the opposite direction, pushing it aside. At least, I tried to. My phone buzzed in my hand. It was a message…from Ryan. *I miss you. When next are we meeting?*

My heart began to pound a little bit more inside my chest as soon as I see that there was a small card inside. I was hesitant but I know I needed and wanted to read what is written in it. After having the guts, I opened the letter which says: Did you miss me? -Jolene No. Fucking no, it can’t be.

I've started to miss you Pieces of you The fleeting touches I've started to miss them again. This time, I'm not sure if I'll ever not miss them. You stay next to me with me in your arms but your eyes search for somebody else, something else. Do you need more? Or do you need less? Do you need me? Or do you need her?