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“You’re fine, but you’re not talking to me,” he pointed out as I continued to my classroom.
“Exactly.”
“So, you’re fine, but you’re not fine. Because if you were fine, you would talk to me.”
“I don’t need to talk to you. I understand just fine.”
“But you don’t,” he argued, grabbing onto my arm.
I stopped in place and let my eyes fall to where his massive hand was wrapped around my bicep. Slowly, he removed it, taking a step back. Wise decision.
My eyes rose to meet his. “As I said, I’m fine. But I do have to get to my classroom.”
I turned on my heel and walked away, leaving him in the dust. Or so I thought. After I opened my door and walked inside, he was there in an instant, taking my briefcase from me as if that would lighten the load and make me less mad at him.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m helping.”
“You’re really not,” I said, narrowing my eyes dangerously at him.
“Yes, I am.”
“If you were helping, I wouldn’t be pissed off at you right now for getting in my way,” I said through gritted teeth.
“But I’m not in your way. I’m here to show you that…that I’m not—” He huffed in frustration, running his fingers through his already tousled hair. “This is coming out all wrong. I had a plan.”
I gasped, bringing my hand to cover my mouth. “And it’s not going how you thought? Oh my gosh. I can’t believe that!” I said, making sure to exaggeratebelieve.
“You know, you can make fun of me all you want, but I’m here to work this out. There are things I need to tell you!”
“Like what? That you don’t want me living with you? Got it. I moved on.”
“No, like the fact that I’m in love with you and going crazy since you left!”
His eyes rounded and he took a step back as he said it, almost like he was shocked that he’d let the words leave his mouth. As for me, I stood there staring at him like an idiot. What was I supposed to say to that? It had to be some kind of ploy. There was no way he’d been in love with me all this time. If he had been, he wouldn’t have pushed me away so much.
But then again, why would he come in here and tell me he loved me when he didn’t? Was Edith right this whole time?
“But…you…and I…what?” I finally said, unable to form a coherent sentence.
“Yeah,” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Sorry…word vomit.”
A squeak left my lips as I tried to figure out what he was saying. I just couldn’t respond. It was like all thought left my brain, leaving me incapable of forming those things you used to string a sentence together.
“Look, the truth is, I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you, but then you gave me the signal and…fuck, I just wanted you so much. I didn’t?—”
“Wait,” I interrupted, my brain finally coming back online. “I gave you what signal?”
“You know, you punched my arm in that playful way that tells me you just want to be friends.”
“I did? When did that happen?”
“Yeah, it was after your house collapsed around you. I mean, when I was rescuing you, I really thought there was something there, but then Brock informed me that a punch to the shoulder is the equivalent ofhey, let’s just be friends.”
I was still wracking my brain to figure out what he was talking about. I didn’t even remember hitting him. And all this time, he assumed I didn’t like him?
“But…no, you were the one always trying to cover me up and…and you acted like it was wrong to see me naked!”
