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I turn to her, meeting her worried gaze and smile. I shouldn’t get my hopes up. Rachel’s a nice person. Of course, she’d be worried. It doesn’t mean she actually has feelings for me. I write back:I’ve had worse,before folding and handing the paper back to her.
I mentally kick myself as I wait for her reply. Like I really want her thinking I get myself into fights. I think the only person I’ve ever fought with is Seth, and that’s been mostly through verbal sparring if anything. Perhaps a little fencing here and there, but nothing too physical.
Rachel hands me the piece of paper and I frown, wondering if it’ll say something along the lines of:please, stay away from me for now on,or,I don’t think our friendship is going to work out.I force myself to open the paper. My fingers slightly shake, and my stomach twists with doubt. My eyes widen when I see:Cool tat! I didn’t think you had any.
I immediately write:Got it on Monday before the party. There’s another on the other ankle.
I watch her read my message, her gaze meeting mine and nodding in appreciation.
“Alright, class over,” Miss Blanc announces while sliding off her desk. She doesn’t remove her eyes from her phone and simply walks around the desk to dump her body into the chair. “Homework is whatever’s on page 50. Have it ready to turn in on Friday. Au revoir.”
I shove everything into my bag and sidle close to Rachel, watching her meticulously placing her things back into her purse. She moves slowly, as if she wants me to go on ahead of her, but I need to ensure we’re okay, that I didn’t cross the line.
What am I thinking?
Of course, I crossed the line. I jumped over it. I annihilated it. I pretty much acted as if there was no line whatsoever on Monday. And I couldn’t blame it on the alcohol. I knew exactly what I was doing, what I wanted.
“Rachel,” I say hesitantly, my voice unusually soft, even for me. I rub the back of my head, watching her throw her purse over one shoulder. “Do you think we can talk?”
She grimaces, which only makes me feel worse.
“We don’t have to talk now, if you don’t want,” I quickly rush out, taking a step back to give her space. I’m so stupid. It’s too soon. She was just being nice before; writing me notes in order to make me feel less awkward and guilty. “You know what, you’re probably busy.” I chuckle and step past her. “We can talk later.”
“No,” she says, her hand on my arm, halting me from proceeding any further towards the door. “We can talk.”
I watch her stride past me, her hand still on my arm, tugging me after her. My skin heats under her palms. My heart pounds in my ears, making my face heat. As soon as the door closes and we’re in the hall, I lean my shoulder against the wall. My gaze hits the floor, staring at her black boots while I try to collect my thoughts.
“I’m so sorry, Rachel,” I murmur. I wince at the tremble in my voice. “I should never have kissed you. I shouldn’t have put you in that position with your… with your…”With your boyfriends,is what I want to say, but the words seem determined to remain in my throat.
“No, it’s not your fault entirely.”
I lift my gaze, shocked by her words. She fidgets with her fingers. Her brows are pulled taut in worry and confusion. She chuckles, yet I see there’s a sad gleam in her gaze. The sound is more bitter than it is joyful, and it makes me want to pull her in my arms and hug the sorrow away.
“My life is a mess right now,” she says with a sigh. “I’m having issues with my mom. I need to focus on schoolwork, on the bros, on my friends. I don’t think I can really give you what you want.
“I only want to be friends,” I breathe, shocked by the truth of it. If I can’t be her boyfriend, I want to be someone important in her life. I’m fine with being a friend. It’s not the end of the world.
She gives me a look as if to say I’m lying.
“I’m serious,” I say, a bit louder than necessary.
“Oh, really?” Rachel crosses her arms. One eyebrow raises slightly while she smirks back at me, and I find myself falling for her all over again.
“Yeah.” I close the minimal distance between us, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I understand messy lives. I’m not perfect myself.”
She scoffs. “Yes, you are. You’re practically a genius and an athletic prodigy.”
I straighten my back while my smile widens. Having my ego stroked feels good. It’s not often I feel this way, this confident. “I don’t want to force you into anything you don’t want or aren’t ready for. I’m fine with being a friend. I like you, Rachel. I just want to be able to hang out with you, to help you whenever you need.”
Her shoulders slump and her arms fall. “Really?” Her eyes glisten up at me and I wonder if she’s about to cry, if she’s been struggling more than she’s let on this semester.
I slowly nod. “Really really.”
“Thank you, Alex,” she whispers, her hand tightening in my grasp.
“You know what, let’s do something fun this weekend.” I release her and take a step back, excitement seizing me as my mind is flooded with loads of ideas. It’s been so long since I’ve hung out with friends without it taking place at a party or a social event and I’m eager to do something outstanding. “We could see a movie, do yoga at one of the studios, or keep it simple and grab some coffee.”
Rachel purses her lips. “I don’t know, Alex.”
