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I should go home and sit my ass on my couch like I’d planned. Force myself to come to some resolution. But when I back out of the parking space, I find myself heading in the complete opposite direction of my dorm.
I’ve avoided Jake since the party, going back to our usual routines, making sure to keep out of his way. I never planned on staying away permanently, but I figured I should have a plan in place at the very least. Some sort of guideline on how to navigate the clusterfuck that damn journal had made. I drum my fingers on the steering wheel in frustration as I pull up to a stop light. The journal wasn’t the problem. Not really. I’m the problem. I worry more with each day that passes that Jake will cut me off forever, never giving me a chance to explain myself.
Unsettled by that idea, I glance at the clock on the face of my stereo. It’s past five in the evening, so I know Jake will be getting off work in less than an hour. I’ve memorized his schedule as much as I know he has mine. Anxiety buzzes in my veins at the thought of seeing him again. Will he be mad when I just waltz into his store? I have no idea, but I guess we’re about to find out because I need to see him even if I don’t plan on laying out the whole truth in a public place.
It’s more than an apology I owe him. It’s a confession. I need to explain what really happened that day. He may not forgive me and rejection would smart like a son of a bitch, especially from him. Even if I deserve it.
When the light turns green, I move through the intersection and take an immediate turn into the parking lot of a small shopping center. I pull into a parking spot directly in front of the store with a red neon sign over the door that reads “Marco’s Electronics”.
Not giving myself time to overthink, I step out of my truck and glance around. A few customers are coming in and out of the shops. My hands are shaking slightly, and I drop my keys. I curse under my breath as I grab them off the blacktop before I turn back to the truck and snag my wallet I keep in my center console. I shove it in my pocket and close the door before I head into the store.
A bell chimes when I open the door, and my gaze darts around the store searching for Jake. Neat groupings of chargers, phone covers, phones, laptops, and some other things I don’t recognize at first glance fill the store in orderly rows, with the most expensive devices stored in the glass counters. The décor is an institutional gray, but everything is spotlessly clean and organized.
I find Jake standing behind the counter wearing his uniform shirt, a white polo with a red collar, and a name tag. With the phone pressed to his ear, he glances in my direction and his eyes flash a touch of surprise, followed by a look of annoyance.
The look on his face gives me pause, but I take my chances and approach the counter just as he hangs up the phone.
“Hey.”Brilliant, Creed. I even offer a smile, but Jake’s lips fall into a thin line. All right, then. This is going just about as smoothly as I’d worried about.
“What are you doing here?” Jake asks, studying me suspiciously.
“Um, I broke my old earbuds, and I’m looking for replacements. What kind do you have?” I glance around trying to figure out where they are displayed.
“The kind that go in your ears, Creed,” he replies flatly.
I don’t mean to laugh, but the comment surprises me, and a chuckle escapes, earning myself an irritated scowl from him. Perfect way to start thisaccidentalrun-in with my ex-best friend. First, I lie about my earbuds. There’s not a single thing wrong with them. And now I’ve just pissed him off.
Well, fuck.
CHAPTERSIX
JAKE
“I’m sorry.”Creed makes an attempt to school his features, but his lips twitch with the effort.
I sort of want to strangle him. Since I figure I’d get fired for that, I decide to just get him out of the store as soon as possible. “Just follow me so we can get this over with.” I circle around the counter and lead Creed to an array of possibilities hanging on a wall in the back corner of the store. “Here ya go. If you need anything else…search for answers online.”
My boss would lose his mind if he overheard me telling a customer that, but luckily, he’s in the backroom messing with payroll and there are no other customers in the store. I have no intention of standing here with Creed, discussing earbuds of all things while pretending he’s just some random oversized, hot as sin guy coming in the store. When I turn to walk away, Creed clears his throat. I groan under my breath, facing him again. “Yes?”
He’s scanning over the selection, standing casually with his hands tucked into the pouch of his dark blue hoodie. “Which of these do you recommend? I mean, which do most people buy?”
I attempt to nail him to the wall with a glare, but unfortunately, he remains standing, totally unaffected. “I just started working here and, so far, most people ask how much the damn things cost, which is clearly labeled on each package. I haven’t memorized the inventory yet.” A sudden thought strikes me, and I study his face as I ask, “Did you know I work here?”
Creed’s features remain neutral as he continues looking at the earbuds and picks up a couple that seem to be similar, only the price tags indicate a hundred-dollar difference. He turns each of the boxes over, reading the specs and features. “Are either of these waterproof?”
“You are literally looking at the details, so you know more than I do. And you didn’t answer me.” I’m beginning to think he’s deliberately frustrating me. I continue watching his face closely, but as usual he gives very little away as he hums to himself.
He goes to put one of the pairs back on the wall, but pauses. “I can’t decide. Do you think—”
“They’re fucking earbuds, Creed. Just pick one,” I whisper-shout while checking over my shoulder to make sure my manager is still safely tucked away in his office.
“Someone’s in a mood,” Creed mutters, and I grind my molars to keep from responding. He’s ignored everything I’ve said up until this point anyway. He grabs the cheaper set and rehangs the other.
Finally.While leading him back to the register, I press my lips together tightly because I don’t trust myself to keep my mouth shut without the added effort.
I make quick work of ringing up his purchase and keep my gaze on the cash register, avoiding any eye contact with Creed. Thankfully, he doesn’t say a word either. This has been yet another confusing run-in with my ex-best friend, and I just want him gone before either one of us makes it worse. I rip off the receipt from the printer and shove it in the bag before holding it across the counter.
“Yes,” he says out of nowhere as he takes the bag from my hand.
