"Kass, I don't know what you want from me." I'm getting short with him, but I can't help myself. Every cell in my body is screaming to run.
"And I don't know whatyouwant fromme. That's kind of the conversation I'm trying to have with you right now."
"I really have to go."
"Mmk.” He doesn’t buy it, but he concedes anyway. “Talk later then?"
"Sure."
I hang up before he can say anything else that will cause me to spiral more than I already am.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
Chapter Twenty-Three
B
I pace the hallway in my apartment, trying to find a way out of this. Kass is on his way over to talk, and that's the absolute last thing I want to do right now, but I have to end this. He needs to hear me say that I don't want this anymore, because I have a feeling that if I tried to ghost him, he wouldn't give up that easily.
The last two days of my work trip, I tried to ignore him, but he wouldn't let it go. He kept texting, asking to talk. I was distracted the whole time, and it affected my meetings. I wasn't as sharp as I usually am, and that is a prime example of why I don't need this. I love my job, and I don't want anything to compromise it, along with a thousand other reasons.
As I pass by her room for the hundredth time, Fia pops her head out. "Are you sure you don't want me to leave?"
"No. This will be over quickly."
"Are you sure this is what you want?"
"Fia, I. Don't. Do. This. I don't do ‘what are we’ talks.This was just supposed to be a friends with benefits thing, nothing more."
"Alright. Well, I'll be in here with my headphones on if you need me."
She shuts her door, and I continue pacing the hall. My phone vibrates, so I take it out of my pocket with shaky hands. Why am I shaking? I do this all the time. I have no reason to be nervous.
Kass
Here.
B
I'll buzz you in.
I goto the app on my phone that controls the front door to the building and let him in. He'll be climbing the stairs now. That gives me only another two minutes to panic before we're face-to-face. I just pray that I don't get sidetracked and veer from my plan. I know what I need to say. I just need him to listen and to accept it.
There's a knock at the door, so I go to answer it. Damn, he must have sprinted up those stairs. I open it and let him in, neither of us saying a word. We walk over to the couch, and both take a seat.
"How are?—"
"So what did you—" We say at the same time.
"You go," he offers, gesturing toward me.
"You're the one who wanted to talk. You can start."
He takes a breath. I notice his eyes aren't as bright as they usually are.
"How was the rest of your trip?"
"Fine," I lie. "You look like shit, by the way."
