Page 13 of A Little Crush
“Come on, Squeaks,” he begs.
Pushing to my feet, I stride toward the closed door and press my forehead against the solid piece of wood, unsure what to say or do. “I’m serious, Jax. I’m not feeling well.” It’s a lie, and we both know it. “Just…we’ll talk later, okay?”
“Listen, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”
A pathetic laugh escapes me before I can stop it. Nothing to be ashamed of? He’s kidding, right? I have everything to be ashamed of. But rehashing any of it with anyone, let alone the star of every embarrassing decision I’ve ever made, feels about as comfortable as scooping my eyeballs out with a spoon. So, yeah. I do have a few things to be ashamed of, but thanks for the bold-faced lie, buddy. Really appreciate it.
“Come on, Squeaks,” he repeats. “Please?”
Tapping the outside of my thigh, I steel my shoulders and open the door.
When he sees me, he pulls back, surprised. “Oh. Hey. I kind of thought?—”
“I wouldn’t open the door?” I finish for him. “Yeah, well, color us both shocked.” I paste on a fake smile. “As you can see, I’m totally fine. I’m just not feeling one hundred percent, so you should go back downstairs and give your two cents on all the videos. I’m sure there are plenty more to sort through, and…yeah. I’m good. Okay?”
I start to close the door, but he slaps his hand against it, preventing it from closing. “Yeah, I’m not gonna do that.”
“Why not?” I demand.
Scrubbing his hand over his face, he mutters, “Listen, I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but it was just a stupid video, all right?”
“Well, I’m glad we can agree on something,” I tell him. “Definitely a stupid video that deserves zero attention. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
I start to shut the door again, but he slaps his hand against it like before. “Squeaks.”
The nickname hits like a lash, and I peek up at him. “Please don’t call me Squeaks.”
His chest swells on a heavy breath, but he lifts his hands in surrender. “Rory.” He takes another deep breath. “I know you’re not a fan of confrontation or anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, but if either of us wants to survive this, we gotta air this shit out, okay?”
He’s probably right. This week already feels like a decade long, and it’s only been a couple days. How the hell am I supposed to survive with him hanging around?
It isn’t his fault. I know that. It’s mine. But giving in? Airing out my most embarrassing moment to one of the people whose opinions I actually care about? No, thank you. Tongue in cheek, I offer, “Or, we can simply avoid each other.”
A ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “We’re basically family.”
Good point.
My body sags against the doorjamb in defeat. “Here’s the thing. I appreciate you coming and trying to clear the air or whatever, but there’s no need. We’re good. I’m just tired.”
“I thought you felt sick,” he argues.
“Headache,” I toss back at him. “Which can be from exhaustion or illness. Seriously. I’m fine.”
He doesn’t believe me. I can see it in his eyes. Feel it in what little space separates us. “If you were fine, you wouldn’t be avoiding me like this.”
“I’m not…” The lie falls flat on my tongue. I close my mouth and cross my arms, unsure what to say when we both know he won’t buy it anyway.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” he offers.
My lips part as I register his words. Seriously, am I hallucinating? What the hell?
“You’resorry?”
“You’re surprised?” He scoffs. “Yeah, Rore. Of course, I’m sorry?—”
“Why?” My fingers dig into my folded arms. “Jax, you have no reason to be sorry.”
“Rory, I rejected you?—”
