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Beth just returns her attention to her food, taking another huge bite out of her toast and downing the rest of her juice. She gets up as soon as she drops the glass back on the table and says, “That tasted great. Thanks, Mom.”
She drops a kiss on her mother's cheeks and one on her father's, and without bothering to chance a glance my way, makes her way up the stairs in a feat of rage.
When Jenny turns an apologetic gaze towards me, I give her a reassuring smile. She breathes out a sigh of relief and thankfully takes the conversation toward safer grounds. I had spent my childhood over at the Potter’s house so often that I'd been used to talking with Jenny and Robert, so the conversation wasn't awkward. When I say my goodbyes, my eyes unconsciously trail towards the stairs, and I find myself wondering what Beth is doing.
Is she on her bed sulking?
At the thought, I chuckle lightly and make my way toward my home. I have to figure out a way to apologize to Beth, but she also has to pay for her bad behavior today, and I just know the best way.
CHAPTER17
BETH
When I arrive at the office, I don't get the giddy feelings I usually have. Instead, there's a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach as I get off the elevator, preparing to be greeted with Cynthia's sunny smile and the endless tales of where Collins took her last night.
Don't get me wrong, I love Cynthia, and I am super happy for her; but the sight of her and the stories she relays are a painful reminder that I might never get to be with the one person I truly desire. Getting to hold him and touch him like I had that night had been exhilarating, but as I proceed to his office door, I realize that I want more than that.
I don't know when my feelings of infatuation morphed into something deeper. Or maybe, those feelings had always been there, but only a lot more perceptible now. Knocking on Mitch's office door, my heart starts to skip when he invites me in. I push the door open to find him hunched over his laptop, a concentrated look on his face. When I am within appropriate distance, that concentration breaks as he takes me in, his eyes running up and down my body. His gaze rests on mine.
“Good morning, Miss Potter.”
Miss Potter?
“Good morning, Mitch,” I greet, watching him watch me and noticing the hard lines at the corner of his mouth. His classic look spelled displeasure.
“Do you have what I need?” he questions, stretching his hands for the files in my hand. I hand them over, and when his attention quickly shifts to them, I find myself lingering.
“Was there something else you wanted?” he asks without looking up.
“A time off,” I blurt out, just as shocked as he is as his eyes become riveted on mine.
“I'm afraid I'm not following, Miss Potter.”
“School,” I say simply.
I have been thinking about returning to school for some time now. And at the realization of my feelings for Mitch, I figure it is better to see Smith's face on campus than Mitch's. I had not expected that the time away from school aimed at healing my broken heart had only given me a clear retrospect of how shallow my relationship with Smith was and how I'd begun to care for someone else on a deeper level.
“And you're just thinking to spring this on me?” Mitch questions, eyes narrowing in what appears to be irritation.
“You forget I’m still a college student even after your brothers did such a nice job of reminding you?”
When hurt crosses Mitch's eyes, I look away from them, angry that I feel guilty about my outburst. Mitch hurt me in more ways than one. Giving him a little taste of his own medicine is only fair.
I keep my eyes averted from him, making no move to offer an apology. When Mitch gets up, I tense up. My eyes trail over his body, taking in the casual jeans and button-up. I try not to ogle those sinewy arms as well as the obvious veins that bulge with the slightest of movements. When he moves past me to shut the door, I do not turn, but wait and listen, my heart hammering when there is a definite click.
When Mitch returns, bringing the woodsy scent of his cologne with him, I feel my cheeks flush.
“Listen, what my brothers said that night was out of line. I’m…”
“You’re what? Sorry that I heard them? Or that you had to slum it with me?” I turn my back. It hurts too much to look at him.
“Beth...”
I can’t listen to him saying he regrets what happened between us, so I interrupt, “No, Mitch. That’s okay. It’s not like I had any illusions or anything. I know the—”
“Shhh,” it’s his turn to cut me off. “You have it all wrong, but I can see you don’t want to talk.”
I try to force the lump on my throat to go down, but it seems to be stuck there.
