Not like this, not vulnerable.
I decide to just spit it out, swallowing the nerves whole. “I wanted to text Hailey earlier at the coffee shop.”
His shoulders swell, taking up more real estate in the small space. His face morphs into a mix of confusion and something else I can’t decipher. Not hurt, but possibly discomfort?
“Did you not have fun with me?”
“No, no…” I rush out. Realizing too late how that sounds as I try and unjumble the mess of my thoughts. “It’s not you, I mean, it’s me,” I exhale on a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know.”
“Come on, finish your thought,” he says, nudging my shoulder with a small lift to the corner of his mouth.
I know that added boost on the last part is only for me. He’s still closed off, but it does help ease some of the tension, so I try again.
“What I mean is today is the first time I noticed. I wish I had my phone back.”
His brows cave. “I don’t understand. Where is it? Did you forget to bring it with you?”
…Not exactly.
I lick my lips, they’re as dry as the air I’m barely breathing.
“I haven’t exactly had one since before, well, you know.” I pause. “It’s upstairs somewhere, in a drawer.” Dead to the world, no doubt. “I haven’t wanted to look at it.”
I don’t know if I’m ready to.
He’s quiet for a moment and it drives my anxiety haywire. Why does this sound so immature out loud? Stupid really.
It also doesn’t help that his gaze hooks on mine. He’s watching me and the intensity of it swirls something low in my belly.
“Told you it would sound dumb,” I fill in on a nervous crack of a hiccup when he still hasn’t said anything.
“Why Hailey?” he asks after another few seconds of silence.
He’s trying to figure me out and I can’t decide if I want him to.
It’s stupid to do it, but I can’t help it as the words easily fall from my mouth. “I don’t know,” I lie.
The truth. I wanted to text Hailey because she’s seemed down in the dumps. I figured a beanie-wearing, mainstream reject, hipster kinda dude would be a perfect distraction.
Eli looks past my head and out the window. His jaw clicks, grating. I know he knows I’m not being honest, but he doesn’t push.
Why would he? He’s Eli, the unselfish one.
“We should go inside,” he says, already climbing out of the car after another beat of warped tension.
It’s moments like this where I question why my stupid fucked-up heart couldn’t have picked someone like Eli. Why did it have to pick the complication that is Iceman?
Everything I should want in a person Eli has.
Our friendship formed itself naturally over a common interest. He is stable to my erratic. A solid to my jagged. He’s never intentionally hurt me, which is why he hasn’t forced an answer.
My fractured soul lives and breathes for someone else and I hate that I’m ruined for someone who admitted that he’d break me.
I’m a fucking mess.
It isn’t until we’re back outside, only now in the backyard, that I realize I’ve been following him.
Unease pricks at my neck as soon as I see, wait—