The Onesie Date:second chance
769 Words
He didn't reply to my last text. I thought that was it. Finally.
But a week later, I got a call from another unknown number. I almost didn't answer.
"Iliza, please don't hang up."
It was him.
"Dylan, I told you to leave me alone."
"I know. But I can't. I've tried. You're everywhere in my head."
I laughed. Not because it was funny, but because it hurt. "You had a whole girlfriend. You posted her. You took her to our spots. And now you want me to believe you can't forget me?"
There was silence. Then, "Charleen and I broke up."
"So? You expect me to be your rebound? Your second choice?"
"No. I expect nothing. I just wanted you to know that I made a mistake. A huge one. And I'm not asking for forgiveness. I just wanted to hear your voice."
I didn't say anything. My hand was shaking.
"Can I see you? Just once. To explain. Not to get you back. Just to explain."
I thought about it. Every part of me wanted to say no. But a small, stupid part of me whispered, What if he means it?
"One hour," I said. "And not at my place. Somewhere public."
We met at a small café near campus. He was already there when I walked in. He looked different — tired, less confident. Like he hadn't slept well.
"You came," he said.
"I almost didn't."
We sat down. He ordered coffee. I just stared at him.
"Start talking."
He took a breath. "When I met you, I wasn't over my ex. I thought I was, but I wasn't. Then Charleen showed up, and she reminded me of everything I thought I wanted. But she wasn't you."
"So you used her to forget me? And now you're using me to forget her?"
"No. I'm here because I realized something. You made me feel real. No pretending. No performance. Just... me. And I threw that away because I was scared."
"Scared of what?"
"Scared of how much I actually liked you. You're not like the girls I usually date. You're not loud, not flashy. But you're real. And that terrified me. So I ran. I went back to what was familiar. And it was empty."
I wanted to cry. But I didn't.
"What do you want from me, Dylan?"
He looked me in the eyes. "A second chance. Not today. Not tomorrow. But maybe... eventually. If you can ever forgive me."
I stood up. "I'll think about it."
As I walked away, he called out, "Iliza."
I stopped but didn't turn around.
"I still have the onesie picture."
I smiled. Then I kept walking.
That night, I couldn't stop thinking about his words. I have your onesie picture. The way his face looked — I'd never seen him like that before. So broken. So honest. But that didn't change the fact that he hurt me and played me.
I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Lisa was asleep. My phone was on the nightstand. I kept reaching for it, then pulling my hand back.
Don't be stupid, Iliza.
But my heart was louder than my brain.
At 1am, I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed my phone and called him.
He answered on the first ring. "Iliza? Are you okay?"
"I'm not okay. I'm confused. I'm angry. And I miss you. I hate that I miss you."
"Where are you? Same place?"
"Yes."
"Don't move. I'm coming."
I paced the room for ten minutes. Then I saw headlights outside. I didn't wait. I ran out the door, down the stairs, and straight into his arms.
He caught me. Held me tight. Didn't say a word. Just let me cry into his chest.
"I hate you," I whispered.
"I know."
"I don't trust you."
"I know that too."
"Then why am I here?"
He pulled back just enough to look at me. "Because you want to believe me. And I'm going to spend every day proving you right."
I looked up at him. His eyes were red. He had been crying too.
"One more chance," I said. "That's all you get. Mess it up, and I'm gone. Forever."
"One more chance is all I need."
We stood there in the dark, holding each other, the city quiet around us. No kiss. No promises yet. Just two broken people trying to piece something back together.
"Come inside," I said. "But Lisa is sleeping, so be quiet."
He smiled. A real smile. "Yes, ma'am."
We walked inside together. And for the first time in weeks, I slept without crying.
- Writer
