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The elevator dinged, and as the doors slid open, he placed his hand on my back and guided me into the stainless-steel car. I was hit with an overwhelming need to brush off his touch, but I didn’t want to come across as rude, so once we were inside, I turned and leaned on the wall. This way I could step away from him without making it obvious.
“Maybe another time.” Or not. Honestly, I wasn’t interested in doing this with him ever again. I hit the button for my floor, anxious to get home so I could text Chris and see how his game had gone. I should have trusted my gut and gone to the game instead of this stupid dinner, but my friends had insisted I go when Jude suggested the date and time. So in the end, I’d given in.
“Are you busy this Saturday?” he pushed.
“It’s my bestie’s birthday, so we’re doing that.” We’d briefly discussed the possibility of a night at a club or something similar, but I’d run with that if it kept me from doing this again. Why had I even texted this guy?
The elevator jerked to a stop, and the doors opened. Across the hall, a man sat on the floor with his back to my door. I processed the long legs clad in ripped jeans and the white Nikes before I really saw him. He was hunched over, elbows on his knees, his head hanging and his hand tapping on his wrist.
“Chris?”
He snapped his head up at the sound of my voice, and for one second, a wave of relief washed over him. But then he looked past me, and his face hardened.
“Don’t you have the stomach flu?” Jude’s question shocked me.
“What?”
Chris was sick? Was he okay, and how didn’t I know? Scratch that. Of course I didn’t know. For weeks, I’d avoided speaking to him and had kept our text exchanges as short as possible.
My heart panged in my chest. Was it another emergency—wait. Was his dad okay?
Jude stepped up beside me and placed his hand on my arm. I had to fight the way my body wanted to recoil at his touch. Chris’s jaw audibly clicked as he glared at Jude’s hand.
Quickly, I stepped out of Jude’s grasp. “Is it your dad?”
Chris shook his head and reached for the baseball cap on the floor next to him.
“He left the game during the second inning after he almost threw up on the mound. Coach said he has the stomach flu,” Jude explained.
I barely heard the explanation. My focus was locked on the wisp of back hair that peeked out around Chris’s backward hat. He didn’t look sick, just pissed.
“That’s why I was so late tonight. I had to get the story ready to print tomorrow and shift some things around, since it’s going on page one.”
Chris pushed to his feet. “Are you telling me you made her wait on you for a date?”
“You know how it is. Sometimes work?—”
“Is less important,” Chris finished, shaking his head. “Get the fuck out of here.”
“Excuse me?”
Chris stepped closer and hit him with a glare that was reminiscent of the ones he had been so famous for months ago. “Turn around. Hit the button.” He pointed at the elevator. “And leave.Now.” He scoffed. “Anyone worth her time would show up early to wait on her.”
I took in my very angry friend from head to toe. His jaw, dusted with a five-o’clock shadow, was locked tight, and his hands were shaking at his sides. As his words ricocheted around my head, I realized that I’d never once had to wait for him. He’d always shown up and patiently waited for me to finish work, or he’d hung out while I finished my hair or makeup before we headed out. If we were meeting up, he’d be there when I arrived.
I heard the elevator ding behind me, but I didn’t bother turning to watch Jude leave.
“You okay?” I asked, taking a tentative step toward Chris.
He shook his head. “I’m not sick. But…Talk.” He swallowed hard. “Weneed to talk.” His voice was laced with a desperation that made my chest ache.
“Okay.”
“Can we go inside?” He tipped his head toward my door.
Right. The hallway outside my apartment wasn’t the ideal place to have a conversation.
Nodding, I pulled out my keys and stepped up to my door, my knees wobbling as I went. Dread and anticipation mingled inside me. Was he going to tell me that I shouldn’t have kissed him? He wouldn’t be this desperate to talk to me if that were the case, right? Had he gotten suspended again? He’d worked so hard with Hannah for months, but had he slipped and gotten himself in trouble? Would I have to watch reports about it on the news? Would my dad be cursing his name for the next week and a half?
