I feel as though she’s just poured cold water down my back. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, there has to be a reason he seems intent on keeping you around, right?”
“Well… maybe he likes me?” I feel like a complete idiot having to make the suggestion myself. As if I’m the only person delusional enough to think Anton could like me.
Freya catches her slip, too. She looks embarrassed for a minute. “Of course! Of course he must, honey. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that…”
She trails off and we stare awkwardly at one another. Then she sighs and touches my shoulder apologetically. “You’re awesome, Jessa. But this guy… he’s not like the men we’re used to. He can get any woman he wants.”
“So why me, huh?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” She shakes her head. “I just think you need to be careful.”
I don’t like hearing it, but I know I need to. Still, I don’t think I have the energy to deal with both Freya and Chris tonight.
“Can we talk later?” I ask for the third time.
“Of course. I’m just gonna take the trash out.”
I nod and we move past each other on the stairs. I continue up to my apartment as Freya disappears down the stairwell. I have only enough time to discard my coat and grab some water before my doorbell rings.
I’m already regretting asking Chris to come over. I feel drained and deflated. The high I’d been riding when Anton dropped me off has dissipated completely.
I answer the door with a forced smile. “Thanks for coming over so late. Did you see Freya on the stairs?”
He frowns. “No. Should I have?”
“She was taking down the trash.”
“Maybe she hid to avoid me,” he grumbles. “I would have done the same if I’d seen her coming.”
I glare at him. “Come on, you could make an effort.”
He scoffs. “She’s annoying.”
“You’ve barely given her a chance.”
“There’s a lot of drama with that girl.”
“How can you tell?”
He shrugs. “Instinct.”
“Sorry, that’s not a legitimate reason to dislike her.”
“I just… I don’t like how close she got to you so fast,” he admits wearily.
I stiffen a little, remembering what Freya observed about Chris. Is it true that maybe her assumption that he has feelings for me is dead-on? No, no, no. Don’t know, don’t care. Most importantly, don’t have the energy to deal with that tonight.
“Sit down. Can I get you anything to eat?”
“No, thanks.”
“Drink?” I ask.
“C’mon, J,” he sighs. “Just tell me what’s going on. You didn’t call me over here for a cup of tea and a chit-chat.”
I gulp. “Alrighty then. Right to it. Let’s sit.”