I think back to what Maddie had said about giving it one last chance. Is this my last chance? Is this really it? She’s telling me no to everything, so I should probably give up. I put on my best hopeful smile and send a prayer up to God, hoping for some kind of sign that this isn’t my last chance.
“We could maybe hang out,” she says, looking down at her nail polish. “I mean, not today because I’m busy, but maybe another time.”
“Really? Yeah, that’d be awesome.”
She shrugs one shoulder and looks back at the shoes in front of her. “I’m kind of busy right now.”
I may be an idiot when it comes to girls, but I know how to pick up on a sign that I’m not wanted. Elise used to do this to me, back before she broke up with me for good. Avoiding eye contact, suddenly claiming to be busy all the time. Even during homeroom when we literally had nothing to do for fifteen minutes, she wouldn’t want to sit on top of my desk and chill with our friends like she did back when we were a happy couple. She’d sit at her own desk across the room, saying she was “busy” even though it never seemed like she was doing anything.
I know busy all too well.
But I’m still not ready to give up. I mean, until she looks me in the eye and tells me to fuck off, I think I might still have a chance.
“Okay, cool,” I say all easy-breezy like I don’t have a care in the world. “I’ll see you around.”
I open my mouth to ask something more—to venture into uncharted territory and ask for her phone number—but she responds before I get the chance to do it.
“Okay. Bye.”
Defeated yet again, I pick up the last bit of my pride and hope, and turn around. I walk slowly toward the door, hoping she’ll call my name or rush up and grab my sleeve, asking me to wait up because she still has more to say. I lose myself in the fantasy of her touching my arm, turning me around and giving me a napkin with her phone number on it, her hazel eyes smiling up at me as she asks me to call her tonight.
But of course, she doesn’t do that. I don’t even know where she’d get a napkin between the shoes and the store’s glass door.
Sometimes daydreams can be a total bitch. I press my hand to the door, take a deep breath, and leave my crush behind.
