Page 21 of The Infiniteness of Yesterday
I roll my eyes. “Dumb joke.” But I smile anyway, hoping I don’t look as tense as I feel. Unwrapping the sandwich with shaky fingers, I ask hesitantly, “What do you want?”
He takes his hat off, smoothing his fingers through his shaggy hair in need of a trim and then replaces the hat, only backwards this time. A weary sigh echoes in his chest. “We can’t just talk and hang out like we used to?”
I narrow my eyes, peeling the chunks of avocado off the sandwich.
Why is avocado on everything these days?
“I’m at work,” I point out, holding his gaze.
He cocks his head to the side and reaches for my water bottle, removing the cap and taking a large sip.
“That was my water,” I accuse.
A tiny smirk plays on his lips as he slides the bottle back to me, but keeps a hold on the cap, spinning it around his long elegant fingers.
“I don’t have cooties, Harlow. Besides, we’ve swapped a lot more than spit in the past.” Damn him, now I’m blushing. “You should eat.” He dips his head at my sandwich. “I’m sure you’re hungry.”
I wish he’d stop dragging this along and get to the point. There has to be some point, right? I guess, but maybe not. Not everything has to have an ulterior motive.
I frown down at the turkey sandwich like it’s personally offended me somehow before picking it up and taking a giant bite. Chew. Swallow. “Happy now?”
He arches a brow, not a single hair out of place. I bet he’s forced to get them waxed.
“Immensely.” He sets the bottle cap down but taps his fingers against the tabletop. “You look good.”
This time it’s me arching a brow, disbelief written on my face. “Thanks, the steam from the machines is basically like a five-star facial only free.”
He blows out a breath, leaning back in the chair. “It was a compliment.”
I shrug, taking another bite of sandwich. “Doesn’t change the fact that I look like shit right now.”
He narrows his eyes, staring at me unblinking for a moment. “Doesn’t change the fact that I’ve always thought you were beautiful no matter what.” I nearly bite down on my tongue. “I miss you, Harlow.”
I push my half-eaten sandwich away. I don’t like where this conversation is headed. It wouldn’t be the first time Spencer has tried to get back together. “I’m with Jameson now.”
“I know.” He stares at me and I swear I start to wither a bit under his too-blue eyes. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, or that I still love you.”
I wish I could say I was surprised by his declaration but I’m not. Ever since we broke up four years ago, he’s made it very clear that I was the one who broke things off and he never wanted to and hasn’t stopped loving me since. I still love him too, how could I not, but I’m not in love with him and there lies the difference. But that hasn’t stopped him from occasionally trying to convince me to give us a shot again.
“I’m with Jameson,” I repeat slowly like he’s too dense to grasp the words.
“We were friends once. I want us to be friends again. I miss you. Is that so wrong?”
We both know we were only ‘friends’ because we both had a crush on one another.
A long echoing sigh blows out of my lips. “Spencer, you and I … we … it…” I struggle to find words but none of them are right.
“We can be friends,” he continues, ignoring my stuttering. “There’s nothing wrong with that. We have history, sure, and a daughter. But don’t you think for her sake we should be friends?”
I frown at his words. My fingers work to remove the tomato from the sandwich I most likely won’t be finishing. “You make it sound like we’re enemies.”
He shrugs. “We’re not, but things could be better with us, don’t you agree?” He cocks his head to the side like an eager golden retriever waiting for a treat.
I don’t answer, because he’s right. They could be better and that’s entirely on me. I’ve kept my distance from Spencer over the years, keeping conversations solely to Roe besides basic pleasantries.
He continues, ignoring my silence like it isn’t glaringly obvious. “Come on, Low, let’s try to get to a better place.”
I purse my lips at the nickname he hasn’t uttered in years. “How do we do that?”
