Page 63 of Not Mine To Love

And with that, she let herself out.

Sighing, I locked the door and sat back in my dad’s recliner. Her words had at least taken away a little of the shame and pain I felt, but not all of it. It still hurt that I had done exactly what she had expected, gotten involved with Julius.

I didn’t like to feel manipulated. And I hated that she knew me better than I knew myself. Even if it all was a ruse, I was so easily manipulated or rather not manipulated, I was exactly the person she thought me to be. And that was why I was so angry.

I snuggled under a blanket and tried to watch some more bad TV, but my stomach started to growl. I needed more junk. I stood and went rummaging through the kitchen cabinets and found another bag of chips and my dad’s hidden stash of cookies. I figured they had probably gone stale, but whatever; cookies were for eating, expired or not.

“These cookies are so good,” I murmured to myself while snuggling under the blanket. I pushed everything out of my head: Julius, finding my own place, everything, and just ate cookies and binged watched TV.

I was nodding off when I heard another knock on the door.

I groaned and made myself get up as the knocking became more insistent.

“Stop banging on my door, Claire!” I yelled, “Gosh!” I found my way to the door and looked through the peephole. I wanted to make sure a murderer wasn’t trying to break down my door first.

Nope. I immediately squatted, scared that the unexpected visitor would see me through the peephole. It definitely wasn’t a murderer.

It was Julius.

He knocked again, and I yelled, “Go away.”

“Come on, Becca. Let me in.”

“No.”

“Come on.”

“Go away.”

“I just want to talk to you.”

“No!”

“Please open the door.”

I stayed quiet hoping he would go away. A minute passed and then another. And I stood up a little to look out the window. He was peering through that exact window, and I screamed, startled.

“Sorry,” he said, and I heard him laugh.

I couldn’t help but smile too.

“Come on, Becca, let me in before someone calls the cops.”

I stood and had my hand on the doorknob as I turned the lock.

I slowly opened the door just a crack.

“Can I come in?”

I stared at him, not realizing until that moment how much I missed him.

And it was for that reason that I didn’t want to let him in. I knew if I opened the door and he crossed the threshold, there wasn’t any turning back. I would be under his spell, but maybe that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

“If you let me in, I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He pretended to actually consider his next response before saying, “I promise.”