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“Why are you apologizing?” I laugh trying to hide my discomfort, annoyance. All the emotions. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not like we’re together or, I mean, we’re nothing. It’s fine.” I scoff and immediately regret my words. If I could suck them back up I would. His face doesn’t change as he looks at me, yet it somehow deflates. His eyes flicker the tiniest bit in hurt, disappointment. “I didn’t mean?—”
“No, it’s okay,” he says with a forced smile. “You’re right.” His voice is low and polite, sad.
I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out. I know I want words to come out, but they don’t. Instead he says, “Have a good night, text me when you’re home? So I know you’re safe?” I look at him, apology in my eyes but the words still don’t come, so I just nod. I know he sees those emotions. He can probably name them for me, find the words for me. But he just gives me a sad smile, one filled with longing, sadness, and that disappointment that threatens to wreck me. And then he turns and walks away.
FORTY-ONE
NOW, WINTER
“Why did you let him walk away?” Naomi asks me.
I stare at the carpet near her feet. “I don’t know. I couldn’t find any words.”
“None at all?” she pushes. I look up and glare at her. She holds her hands up in apology and surrender.
“I…” I start, but stop again. “I think I was jealous. Which is just, stupid.”
“It’s not stupid,” Naomi says.
“No it is. I mean, we’re not together, but we are friends and the possibility,” I pause, thinking before continuing, “of more hangs between us. I have a strong feeling he would take more now if he could. But I’m still…I just can’t sort my head out.”
“Maybe you’re overthinking things,” Naomi offers.
“Well obviously,” I mutter.
“Do you still feel guilty?” Naomi asks gently.
“A little bit,” I say, “Not enough to make me physically sick anymore. But that is still in the back of my head.” I sigh. “It's also that I just don’t know what the right thing is. When is the right time? Will there ever be a right time? Or right thing to say?” I put my hands to my head. “My head is a mess.”
“That’s understandable,” Naomi says, “But you said that you always felt comfortable talking to him. Why don’t you talk to him about this?”
“There’s only so much someone can take before they realize someone is a lost cause,” I say.
“It sounds like you’re giving up before you even try,” Naomi ponders. I glare at her again. “Am I wrong?”
I sigh, shaking my head. “Probably not,” I mumble. “But how can I talk to him and tell him how I feel, when I don’t even know how I feel?”
“I think that you do know how you feel, you just won’t let yourself feel it.”
I look up to her. I stare at her and she stares back.
“Sometimes you piss me off, Naomi,” I say, and she chuckles.
“I know.”
So it’s freakin’ Naomi’s words in my head that have me driving to David's apartment, after getting the address from Maddie.
I can feel my head trying to talk me out of this, but something pushes me forward. Some kind of driving force that has me not listening to obvious reasoning, but to the insanity of going to this man’s apartment unannounced and uninvited—where I’ve never been before—to most likely confirm to him once and for all that I’m a complete nutcase.
He doesn’t live far from Elliot and Maddie, and it’s pretty easy to find. I park my car and walk up the stairs to the second level balcony that has numbered doors and find the one marked ‘3’. I knock without hesitating. And then I knock again, and again.
A few moments later, David is frantically opening the door, pulling a shirt down over his very naked—and sculpted—torso that I don’t allow my eyes to linger on. “Ana?” he asks, disbelieving and uncertain.
I stare at him and before I can talk myself out of it, I say, “I was jealous the other night. Of that girl talking to you.” He stares at me, confused. “I’ve never really been the jealous type,” I wince. That sounds awfully cocky. I clear my throat, “But I was jealous. I didn’t like that she was talking to you. And I know that’s not fair because I keep pushing you away and leading you on and probably driving you absolutely insane.” He is shaking his head slightly. “But I—” I take a deep breath, holding up my hand to keep him from speaking yet.
“I don’t know what this is,” I finally say, gesturing between us and tasting that slight lie that slowly spreads over my tongue. I choke it back before continuing, “Right now, or what it could possibly turn into.” I take a deep breath. Honesty time. “I know that the way I feel about you scares me in some ways, and confuses me in others. But it’s not nothing. We’re…we’re something, we’re…not nothing.”
His mouth is parted, watching me with wide eyes. I’m about to turn around and run away, probably bury my head in the sand once and for all when he says, “I’ll be whatever you want me to be, Ana. In whatever way you’ll have me.”
