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DON’T LOOK BACK
PAST
Abraham hasn’t responded to the text message I sent yesterday, asking him if he was okay. It’s the longest we’ve gone without speaking since I agreed to go on a date with him.
With the end of the semester approaching, an uneasy feeling settles in my stomach. We never made plans and I never planned on continuing this but…fuck, I’d let him get to me. And now I’m pissed that he’s bowing out like a fucking coward.
How am I going to face him in class tomorrow? How am I going to sit through an hour lecture from the man who never responded to my message?
Rather than save it for tomorrow, I find myself heading to his office, determined to figure out where we stand. If he wants to end it, it’s gonna take more than ignoring my texts. I want to see how easily he lies to me. How smoothly he maneuvers me. Is this how he got into my panties?
Being a fucking liar?
Rage licks at me as I storm down the hall, opening the door to his office without knocking.
He’s sitting at his desk and when he glances up, he doesn’t look surprised to see me. If he hadn’t spent the last twenty-four hours ignoring me, I could swear he looks happy to see me.
“Is your phone broken?” I ask, hating this version of myself. So far from the confident woman he’d been forcing me to be. So uncertain and disappointed.
He shakes his head and scrubs his hands over his face.
I’ve never seen this Abraham before. This man gives me whiplash, introducing different forms of himself that force me to acquaint myself with who I turn into in response.
I form around who he decides to be, and I hate it.
“Okay,” I nod once, turning to leave.
“Wait,” he starts, and I hear his chair scrape the floor as he stands. I glance back, watching him round his desk. Unable to help myself, wanting to preserve the self-respect I have left, I step out of his reach when he holds his hands up.
“What?”
“I’m…leaving,Stellina,” he starts, his empty hands hanging by his sides. “I’m leaving and I’m horrible with goodbyes.”
I chuckle but it sounds hollow. Dry. Dead.
“So, that’s it?” I ask, crossing my arms. “That’s all I get from you?”
“It isn’t like you were looking for more,” he tells me and he’s right. He’s right that we never got to talk about exclusivity and more and what the future might look like. But before I could gain the confidence to bring it up, he swept the fucking rug out from underneath me.
“Okay,” I say again, ready to walk out of this office and never see him again.
“I’m going to The Scratcher next Friday at five. Have one last drink with me?”
I stare at him a moment, unsure of what I can say, feeling like it’s too late to mention more. His lips quirk, a sad little smile that makes me return the gesture.
This time, when he steps toward me, I don’t move away. When he lifts his hand to reach for mine, I remain still. He grabs my hand, holding it silently as we breathe.
His palm is pressed against mine and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to tell my heart to slow down. Because I bet he can feel the way my pulse jumps against his touch.
“I’ll miss your eyes,” he murmurs, his free hand cupping my cheek. “Won’t you miss mine?”
I inhale and let out my breath in a slow escape as I open my eyes and stare up at him. It takes all of me to step out of his reach. To put space between us.
I take another step back as I keep my eyes on him, only looking away at the last moment as I walk away.
Don’t look back, don’t look back.
I square my shoulders. But I don’t look back.
