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prologue
BUSHCAPADES
Istare down at my phone in disbelief. He can not be serious.
Jack
Come outside
I’m here
Torryn
Wtf do you mean you’re here?
We need to talk
No
You can’t just end it like that. Come out
I groan aloud, as I struggle to find my shoes. Why did I ever think it was a good idea to try and date a friend I’d known for over a decade?
Fuck it. Forget the shoes. I’ll just go down there and tell Jack I’m not in a place to date.
Jack
I’m not leaving until I see you
I growl at my phone in disgust, stopping only to slip on shorts under my large sleep shirt. Why is he doing this? I’ve been trying all week to have this conversation. To go back to just friends. Now he finds time to see me after I finally gave up and ended it over text.
Slipping out of the house without anyone noticing is as easy as usual. I grumble to myself as I make my way down my grandparents’ driveway. At least Jack had the common sense to not park in view of their bedroom. I can only imagine my grandfather’s reaction if he saw him outside the house.
Passing the small garden we have in the front of our house, my eyes land on Jack pacing in front of his car, staring at his phone. I stop for a moment, watching the anxious look as the light from his phone illuminates his face. Why does he look so devastated?
He did this.
I shake off the thought, clearing my throat and making my presence known as I take the last few steps to the bottom of the driveway.
“Ryn,” he says, relief and something else I don't understand lighting up his face. He locks his phone and tosses it on the front seat of his car before slamming the door shut. Running his hand through his hair, he tilts his head down and looks at me through his lashes, giving me a sheepish smile. “You came.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I cock my head at him. “Didn’t seem like I had much of a choice.”
His smile dips and he sighs. “How could I not fight for you?”
It’s a struggle not to roll my eyes. “There’s nothing to fight for, Jack. Let’s just go back to being friends. We worked for years that way.”
There’s no sign of the smile that graced his face only moments ago. “How can you say that? I thought things were good with us these last couple months.”
I squeeze my arms tighter over my chest. Maybe I should have taken the time to put on a bra. I feel too exposed, too vulnerable. “What part of you continuously picking your ex over me sounds good?”
“It’s not like that,” he huffs out dramatically.
I wave his words away, already knowing the spiel. “Right, right. You aren’t picking her over me. She’s just crazy. You’re doing it to protect me.” Why is it always the girls that are the crazy ones? Why are we always the ones painted in a bad light?
Unsurprisingly, he misses my sarcasm. “Exactly.” He beams and I don’t hold back the eyeroll this time. “You know I’ve never been happier than when you finally decided to give me a shot. Just give me a little longer and I promise I’ll sort things out with Siri.”
“I don’t need you to sort things out with her. Not for me.” I check my nails so I don’t have to look at his face. “Maybe sort them out for yourself, because this is unhealthy.”
