"What was supposed to happen?"
I sigh. He isn't taking this the right way at all. You'd think I'd just confessed some sort of crime instead of telling him I was in love with him. I mean, sure, starting the conversation with 'I'm running away to Mexico and never coming back, please don't call me,' may not have been the best way to go. But I maintain he's focusing on the wrong thing.
"Just a bit fun, really. You were a distraction."
"Well, I'm glad I could help you out."
"Aren't you listening? You didn't help at all. You completely fucked everything up. You made me fall in love with you."
"Oh, I am so sorry." He snatches up his jacket and leaves.
I don't follow him. It'll just make things worse. I should have ended things weeks ago, when I realised what was going on. This is my fault. But then, he shouldn't have made me fall in love with him.
That's never happened before.
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