Page 30 of Chasing After You
By 6 p.m., I started to think maybe I was wrong, and he wasn’t planning on ever showing himself.
Disappointment settled in despite my attempts to evade it.
I felt deflated.
Maybe I was stupid for thinking he’d come. Maybe his plan was to keep me on edge for the rest of my life, laughing at me from behind the scenes as I pitifully waited for him. Maybe he’d planned on coming, but changed his mind due to something he saw me do or say. I did stupid stuff sometimes. Maybe he decided I wasn’t worth his time after all.
By 7:30 p.m., I was sweeping the front area, making lazy arcs with the broom. Yes, we had a vacuum. And no, the floor wasn’tdirty. I just needed something to do to keep busy. To keep my mind off Dorian.
Oliver had gone to use the restroom, and the entry door hadn’t opened in nearly half an hour. Kellie was holed up in the back doing manager stuff. Don’t ask me what. That’s her job.
I turned my back to the window to sweep beneath one of the tables, feeling more than ready to flop into bed and watch some corny reality shows. Maybe I’d pick up a pint of ice cream from the grocery store on the way home.
The bell above the door chimed.
I looked over my shoulder to greet the customer coming in, hoping they wouldn’t order anything that needed me to use one of the machines I’d already cleaned.
The broom slipped out of my hand, clattering against the floor.
Every hair on my arms stood up. My breath caught, halfway in and never quite out.
I shifted to face him.
Dorian.
His hair was even darker than I remembered, longer too—he wore it half-up and half-down. He wore black. All black. Designer brands. His shocking blue eyes locked on mine, and I swear the world stopped.
Or maybe my brain glitched.
Either way, my body seemed frozen to the spot. When I opened my mouth to speak, no words came out, only a small, distressed noise that had no business coming out of someone like me.
He stared at me with an unreadable expression, making no attempts to move closer. So, we just stood there, five feet apart, not saying anything at all.
I took stock of his physical changes, wanting to acquaint myself with each and every one. He wore long pants and ahoodie. His skin was as pale as it’d always been, but tattoos peeked out of his clothes, adorning his neck and hands with intricate designs.
His ears were pierced and decorated with silver jewelry.
He looked like a modern-day grim reaper. It was fitting.
Finally, after who knows how long, his mouth began to open.
“Fuck,” Oliver cursed from behind me, coming out of the bathroom.
9
Dorian
He was right there, only steps away from me.
Finally.
And he wasn’t running away.
I had imagined this so many times—rehearsed it, replayed it in my head over and over again over the course of eight long years. But now that I was here, and he was in front of me, I was drowning in everything I couldn’t control. I felt paralyzed by the sight of him.
By the proximity of him.
He looked exactly as I remembered, yet nothing like it all at once.
