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“He could have called. Not texted. Two weeks of silence should be ended over the phone.”
Taylor shrugs. “You know how guys are.”
“Unfortunately, I do.”
“So, what are you gonna do?”
I stare at his message. Why am I so disappointed? Did I think he would say more? But I deserve more. After two weeks of ignoring me, he could have made a grand gesture, at least attempted to make things right.
“No.” I drop the phone to the floor and push it away from me. “He made me wait. Why should I run back to him with open arms? If he wants to talk, he knows where to find me.”
She laughs. “There’s the old Bex Bryant I know and love. You’ve gone soft since you got together with Preston. I’m happy to see you’ve returned.”
The library is so quiet I can hear myself breathe. Late at night, no one is ever around. I prefer it this way. Even the librarians seem to disappear into the dark recesses of the building.
It’s creepy silent, so I pull out my earbud headphones. Angry punk rock music fills my ears. With each second that passes, I become more relaxed, more focused. I lift my cell phone from the table to switch over to another playlist. And when I do, another text comes in from Preston.
I ignore it, same as I have done for the past three days. He hasn’t earned an immediate response. Not after he kept me waiting. I think of his hockey T-shirt, the one I stained with mascara from crying so much on it. I clung to his shirt, all because it smelled like him. Because no matter what he said, or how he acted, I still love him.
I hate how pathetic I am because of Preston. By shedding tears for him, I allowed him to have power over me. Not anymore. I call the shots in my life. It will not be dictated by a man ever again.
Dismissing his message, I return back to my music library to choose a new playlist. This time, I go with something more upbeat. But still angry. Joan Jett’s voice penetrates my ears, the sound a welcome relief. I turn the page in my textbook, my eyes pointing down at it.
My thoughts drift to Preston for a second, instead of my book, and I curse him for it. He was always a distraction. Even without him in my life, he still gets under my skin. Because he’s a part of me. He’s the love of my life.
I try to be strong—because that’s how I was raised. My father was never emotional and had no clue how to raise a girl after my mother left. His response to everything was to slap a Band-Aid over it and get back on the court or the ice. But no number of bandages can close the wound left open by Preston.
Another text pops up on my phone. I stare it and sigh, pushing the phone away with my fingers. What’s with all the text messages? He could have called or showed up at my dorm room. I’m holding out until he decides to man up and apologize the right way.
By the time I finish my reading assignment, I receive another text. This time I read it.
Preston: I can see you ignoring my texts.
I roll my eyes at the phone and consider responding. Nope, not gonna happen.
Another text comes in.
Preston: I can literally see you rolling your eyes at me.
I huff, now glancing around the vacant loft that occupies the top floor of the library. No one is up here with me. He’s just messing with me. Or so I think.
Preston steps out from the row to my left. He looks gorgeous in a pair of tight jeans and a fitted dark tee that stretches over his muscles, framing his thick chest. He shoves his hand through his hair to push it off his forehead, looking like a GQ model.
My stomach clenches, my nipples hardening from his simple gesture. No matter how much I want to hate him, I can’t ignore the feeling I get when I’m around him. He’s always had this effect on me.
Pretending as if I don’t care, I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest. “What do you want?”
“Don’t be like this, Bex.” He approaches the table and stands there, towering over me. “I’m sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am. I know there are no words that can make up for what I did to you, but I have never been sorrier in my life.” He drops to one knee next to my chair and tugs at my hand.
I allow him to take it, and he weaves his fingers between mine. Electricity pricks my skin. Tiny bumps travel up my arms. He glances down at my hand, and then brings it to his mouth to plant a kiss on my skin. It’s soft and sensual, more delicate than he’s ever been.
