Dead Pretty

reasons.
Firstly, I’ve noticed his absence from my life. The little that he’s actually been in it.
I shouldn’t be noticing him—or anyone. But I have, and that fact irritates the hell out of me.
Secondly, I think the reason Jack is avoiding me is because he asked me out and I said no. And also because I told him that we couldn’t be friends. Because I’m nice like that.
God, I’m such a bitch.
He’s literally stopped coming to the library to do whatever the hell it was that he did on his laptop all day and disappeared out of my life as quickly as he appeared in it—right after that awkward-as-hell moment in the supermarket.
When I repeat the whole conversation back in my head, it sounds awful.
And it wasn’t the first time that I was a bitch to him.
Sure, I can’t be friends with the guy. I can’t be friends with anyone. But there are better ways to handle things than the way I did.
I could have said, Sure, friends.
It wouldn’t have meant I had to actually do anything with him. It wouldn’t have meant we had to be besties and sit around and braid each other’s hair.
When he said friends, he probably meant in the acquaintance, friendly way.
I should have just said yes.
Then, I wouldn’t feel like such a dick, and I wouldn’t be obsessing about it right now.
I know I should just sort this out.
But I can’t go actively seek him out because that would be weird and probably give him the wrong message.
If I could accidentally run into him again, maybe I could say something then.
But that’s not looking likely at the moment. Not now that he’s avoiding me and now that whatever had us running into each other all the time has decided to stop.
I either shut the fuck up about it and move on. Or go knock on his door after work tonight and apologize for my terrible behavior.
I’ve got the rest of the afternoon to figure out what I want to do.
But right now, I’m going on my lunch break.
Instead of eating in the break room, I decide to go wild and go out to grab some food.
I’m heading out to the coffee shop I like to go to. They have the most amazing cinnamon-and-raisin bagels, and I have been craving one since I woke up this morning.
I’m still deciding whether to get takeout or stay in when I walk inside and see Jack sitting at one of the tables in the corner. His laptop opened in front of him.
And that for sure answers my question as to whether he’s been staying away from the library on purpose.
As if sensing me, he lifts his eyes from his screen and locks on to mine straightaway.
There’s a wariness to them that I haven’t seen before. And I’m the one who put it there.
Guilt lodges in my chest. I really hate the feeling.
It’s an emotion that’s been torturing me for the last few years.
I try to push the guilt away, but it’s not budging.
I guess this is my moment to decide what to do. The afternoon that I thought I had to figure it out has now become seconds.
And I am well aware that I’m standing stock-still in the entryway of the coffee shop, staring at Jack across the room.
I don’t know why I’m struggling with this so much.
Make a decision. Go over and apologize or don’t.
It’s that simple.
Only … it doesn’t feel that simple for some reason.
It feels … significant somehow.
In a way I can’t describe.
But I also know that I have to go over and apologize because if I don’t, I’ll just annoy myself further, obsessing over this.
Just go over, say sorry for being a dick, and go.
I take a deep breath and move my feet in Jack’s direction.
I can hear “Incomplete” by Backstreet Boys playing in the background, and it sounds like the soundtrack to my life.
Jack’s eyes hold mine the whole time I walk toward him.
It’s unnerving. I feel like he can see all the thoughts in my head and all the shame in my soul. I want to cut eye contact, but I can’t seem to. Or I don’t want to. I haven’t figured out which one it is yet.
“Hi,” I say, reaching his table.
“Hello,” he says in a low, husky voice.
Shivers ripple over my skin at the sound of him.
I grit my teeth, ignoring the sensation.
It’s only been four days, and I’m getting shivery over the sound of his voice. It drives me nuts, the effect he has on me. One hello from him, and my ovaries do backflips.
“So …” I say, not really sure what to say now that I’m here, standing in front of him.
“So …” he echoes, leaning back in his chair.
What to say? What to say?
“You can still use the library, you know. You don’t have to avoid me.”
His eyes widen a fraction, like he wasn’t expecting that to come out of my mouth. Neither was I. But I’ve said it now. There’s no taking it back and going with something else.
Jack’s head tips to the side, just a fraction. His hair tumbles over his forehead. I have this sudden, weird urge to reach over and push his hair back off his face. It’s like an itch in my hand.
I grip the back of the chair in front of me to stop myself from doing it.
“Who says I’m avoiding you?” Jack says evenly.
“The fact that, before, I couldn’t turn a corner without seeing you, and now, you’re nowhere to be seen.”
He lets out a laugh, which catches the attention of a few people seated around us.
“Fair enough,” he says without seeming to notice or care that people are looking at him.
And I smile. I can’t help it.
“So, you are avoiding me?” I push.
He says nothing. Just holds my stare.
I’m the first to break it. I look down at the table, letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry that I was a bitch the other day.”
“I didn’t think you were being a