Cold As You

I lay in my bed for what felt like days. I had no will to get up, my phone was off so no one could bother me, and my shades were drawn. However, I didn't cry. I really wanted to, I even tried to. But I couldn't bring myself to shed tears over Sidney Crosby. After going over every event of the last two weeks in my head for what seemed like days, my bedroom door flew open. I glanced over my shoulder, saw it was Addie and Sarah peering, and then let my head fall back onto my pillow.

"I told you she wasn't dead," Addie whispered harshly as the sounds of them shuffling towards me grew closer.

"What's wrong mama?" Sarah asked as she and Addie took their places on either side of me. I pulled the covers over my head; the last thing I wanted to do was tell them what happened. That would just cause a bigger mess than was necessary.

"Nothing," I mumbled, though I wasn't sure they could really hear what I had said. Someone tugged on the sheets, exposing my face to my friends once again.

"Yeah, you sure look like there's nothing wrong," Addie said. "You can tell us Ev,"

"I don't want to," I said sadly, looking at the wall straight ahead.

"Evangeline," Sarah said a pointed look on her face. I took a deep breath and pushed myself into a sitting position, wrapping my arms around knees and holding them close to my chest.

"He just left," I said, my voice void of emotion. Sarah and Addie exchanged worried glances as they scooted closer to me, placing their hand either my leg or arm. "He doesn't care. He never did."

"Honey," Addie and Sarah cooed simultaneously.

"I just kinda wanna be alone," I admitted.

"That's not exactly what you-" Sarah began before she stopped midway through her sentence and just kind of began mumbling. I knew Addie must have told her to shut up.

While I knew they both cared about me, they had different ways of showing it. While Addie preferred to give me my own time to heal, Sarah would much rather force me into happiness- not that that was a bad thing, because sometimes that's exactly what I needed. But at this point, I just needed to wallow in self pity alone.

They both agreed to give me another day or two alone, but promise after 48 hours they would be back to my apartment dragging me out by my hair if need be. They gave me sad smiles at they left, wishing me well.

Although I usually wasn't one to dwell on my sadness or spend too much time lying in bed wasting my days because something bad happened- this was a little different. Sidney Crosby, the boy I had called my best friend for nearly eleven years had used me, slept with me, and left me. And the worst part was, he didn't care. When I turned my phone on a few times just to check and see if he had called, I was only greeted by missed calls and texts from my friends. None were ever from Sidney.

I never thought something like this would happen to me, and if the thought ever crossed my mind I certainly wouldn't have imagined that Sidney would be the boy to shatter my heart into a million pieces. It hurt to know that he didn't care, more than it hurt that he actually did this. It killed me to know he wasn't even sorry for what he did.

However, after going over every minute of the past two weeks I couldn't help but blame myself. Stupidly, I stood there loving Sidney even though I knew he didn't love me back. I invested my heart into our friendship, while he didn't. I let him use me; I never said no to him. Not once. I let him sleep with me because I was too weak and too stupid to tell him it was a bad idea. When it came to Sidney Crosby I always thought with my heart as opposed to my head, and now I was spending my second day straight laying in bed because of it.

I was just a dumb little girl with a crush. A dumb little girl with too much hope that maybe he best friend would fall in love with her like she was with him. But I guess I wasn't what Sidney wanted, and why would I be? I was that girl who he's known since he was eight. That girl who would always be there for him even when he had a bad game. The girl who didn't care he was the NHL's golden boy.

Sitting there in my bed with my knees pressed to my chest, I wasn't sure if I could ever look at him the same way. Sitting there in my bed with my knees pressed to my chest, I wondered if I should just move to Philly where I could hate Sidney Crosby and not be completely ostracized.

"Did I make it that easy to walk right in and out of my life?"