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“Yes,” He answers quietly. He still looks uncomfortable, maybe even angry? Or maybe he just comes across that way without meaning to?
“Oh, nice.” I don’t know why I suddenly have this persistent need to know more about him. I’ve always avoided him and dreaded being in his presence, but now I want to find any excuse to stay with him. To keep talking to him and hearing his voice.
He doesn’t say anything for what seems like the longest time.
“Do you ride a motorcycle?” I ask. He looks back at me and makes a confused face.
“No,” He answers.
“I just wondered because of the boots,” I try to explain and immediately feel stupid. His eyes widen slightly as he looks away and gives me a face that makes me think he is questioning my sanity. I take a deep breath. “So are you—” I start to say.
“I should go.” He cuts me off and stands up abruptly. I feel embarrassed and foolish. Of course, he doesn’t want to talk to me. He doesn’t like me. I don’t know why I would think it would change because of one tiny evening we spent together. And not even a whole evening, like maybe an hour tops. Three years of him making his feelings clear should make me see where he stands.
“Yeah. Right. I don’t know why I even tried,” I manage to spit out as I stand up. He looks at me with his squinty, intense eyes. “Forgive me for just trying to be nice, maybe even be friendly. But you made it very clear in sophomore year that you had absolutely no interest in being my friend. I’m just…a moron. A stupidly optimistic and pathetic moron. Whatever, my fault. Bye, Decker.” I realize that I am incoherently rambling in my embarrassment, but I can’t help it. Before I turn, he opens his mouth as if he is going to say something but closes it quickly. I shake my head and leave him standing there.
The rest of the day passes painfully slowly. I take extremely detailed and vigorous notes in each of my classes to try and keep my mind occupied. Lucas shows up with a surprise coffee and muffin between my morning and afternoon classes. I try really hard to get those butterflies to come back for him, but they are gone. Elliot Decker killed them. He killed my butterflies.
Lucas sits with me in the quad for a few minutes before he has to go to his next class. He kisses me goodbye and leaves with a smile. I sit there for a few more minutes feeling nothing but emptiness in the pit of my stomach.
How can things change so quickly? I was sure of my feelings for Lucas just yesterday. I was sure of my feelings towards Elliot Decker yesterday, until everything happened inside that stupid gas station. I’m sure crazy things like that happen all the time, I mean, this is New Jersey for crying out loud.
But what were the chances of it happening at the closest gas station to my apartment, and that we both happened to be there at the same time?
I come out of my zone-out and realize I am going to be late for my afternoon class. I gather my things off the bench and start walking towards my building.
Thankfully, my last class of the day gets out early. The professor is giving us study time to help prepare for our quiz next week. I don’t need the extra study time, but I appreciate the chance to go home early. I don’t have any classes with Ana today, but I know she gets home later than usual on Thursdays. I drive home and avoid looking at the gas station I have to pass to get to my apartment complex. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to stop there again. I pull into my parking spot and see Decker sitting on the step outside my door, my heart stops completely.
I stare at him. He stares at me.
He looks unsure.
I quickly grab my things and get out of the car. As I get closer to him, he stands up and waits for me to reach him.
He doesn’t say anything at first. I keep looking at him curiously. He clears his throat twice before he starts to speak. “I’m uh…sorry…about, about before,” He says, stumbling on his words.
I keep staring at him. I’m not sure what to say, but I settle on, “It’s fine.”
“No. It’s not,” He pushes. I am surprised to hear the amount of emotion in his voice. It isn’t just anger, intensity or worry like from last night. It is something else. He starts to say something but stops himself.
I finally ask, “Do you want to come in? I can make us some coffee or something?” My chest feels tight and full of fear for his rejection.
He blows out a breath and looks at me for a minute before he nods. I try to hide my surprise, panic, and excitement at the thought of going into my apartment with him. I motion for him to follow me as I unlock my door and step inside. While it is a smaller and older apartment, it was very recently renovated. It has a simple open floor plan with the kitchen immediately on the right, the living room past that straight ahead. On the left side are three doors: the two bedrooms and the shared bathroom in between. It’s small, but it’s open and cozy. We stuck to a minimalist style when decorating, which was helpful since our budget was small. Lots of creams and grays with simple pops of blues and greens.
But as I walk into the kitchen, with Decker following me, the apartment has never felt smaller. It feels like he is sucking all the oxygen out of the room. While I definitely feel intimidated, I don’t feel uncomfortable. He silently watches me as I put a pot of coffee on and prepare two mugs.
“How do you take your coffee?” I ask as evenly as I can, like this is just a normal day and I am not freaking out internally.
“Black,” He answers immediately, which makes me giggle. He looks at me questioningly and I shake my head. Of course, he drinks his coffee black, just like his soul. Okay, that is a little mean.
When the coffee is done, I lead us to the couch where he awkwardly sits next to me, leaving plenty of space between us.
“So, what’s up?” I ask casually, even though my heart is pounding against my ribcage. I try to take quiet, deep breaths so he won’t realize how much his presence is affecting me.
“I—” He starts, but stops quickly. He closes his eyes tight and then opens them again. I wait patiently and wonder if there is anything I can do to help him. He starts again, “I have a hard time…with talking to people…sometimes.” It sounds like every word that leaves his mouth is painful for him.
“Okay,” I say lightly. “Take all the time you need. Can I help you in any way?”
He shakes his head. His knee is bouncing, and he is clenching and unclenching his fists. He looks really uncomfortable. Without thinking, I reach forward and put my hand on his knee, hoping to bring him some comfort. His knee goes still immediately. He looks at my hand then slowly drags his eyes up to my face.
