Page 10 of Tell Me Again

She disappears back into the back room, and Gerry grunts some sort of disapproval—yeah, not everyone likes me, I guess, or he just really wants to close up and head home soon. I can’t fault him for that.

I turn around to go grab a bottle of Coke and bag of chips or something to go with my sandwich. Just as I set the items down on the counter to pay, Gerry scowling at me the whole time, the bell above the door chimes, and a voice I’d really, really hoped I wouldn’t hear again echoes through the small store.

“Yeah, babe, how about you grab a few bottles of water, and I’ll—”

The door closes with a thud, but I can feel him behind me, not more than five feet away. I can fucking feel him. Why?

Fuck.

I hold my breath and don’t move, and he’s not moving either.

“Should I just grab two? Oh, and maybe, looks like they have—” The woman’s voice stops just as abruptly as Josh’s had.

I’m gonna be sick.

Gerry clears his throat. “Seven fifty including the sandwich,” he says, and he starts putting my chips and pop in a plastic bag.

Behind me, two sets of footsteps retreat, heading to the other side of the store, and I let out the breath I’d been holding. I see Gerry eyeing me and then casually glancing past me toward where Josh and “babe” must be. Probably wondering what the fuck is going on with me. Wondering why I’m suddenly frozen and pale and tense.

And god, all the fucking warmth is gone. It was there, and now it’s gone and—

“Here you go, Coop! Roast beef on sourdough.”

Amy steps up next to Gerry and hands me a sandwich wrapped in white butcher paper. Right. Food.

Shit.

“Th-thanks. I-I, uh, really, uh, thanks. Um, seven fifty? Sorry, Gerry, one sec.”

Shit. Shit. What’s wrong with me? I shove my hand deep into my pocket and pull out a few bills from the tips I’d gotten. I hand Gerry ten dollars, stuff the rest back in my pocket, and mutter, “Thanks again, Amy. Keep the change.” Then I grab my shit and spin around toward the door.

I’m gonna fucking throw up again.

My head is pounding and my hands are shaking by the time I get to my truck. And just as I’m reaching out to open the door, I hear him again.

“Coop, hey, uh, w-wait a—wait a minute, will you?”

Fuck no. That’s what I think. But then I don’t move. My hand remains frozen on the door handle to my fucking beat-up old truck, and my eyes close as I hear him jog up behind me and stop a few feet away, his feet scuffing into the gravel of the parking lot.

“Uh, I just . . .”

I hear some sort of plea in his voice, even though he hasn’t really said much of anything. And it tugs at me, this pull deep in my chest. Fuck. I can’t do this. Not tonight. I just want to eat my sandwich and go to sleep. Fuck.

I turn around slowly, and our eyes meet for just a split second before I can’t really stand it. I force my eyes down to the ground as that pull in my chest turns to icy daggers. Painful and sharp.

“What do you want?” My tone is neither warm nor nice, and I almost flinch at my own words. Sorry, Mom. Sorry, Mel. Kind and caring me isn’t being too kind and caring right now. You still proud?

He doesn’t answer, but I hear him let out a short breath, and I glance back up. He’s rubbing the back of his neck nervously, and his eyes are on the ground again. Dammit, why does he have to look so... so hesitant? Fuck.

“Sorry. It’s been a long day, and I’m fucking tired,” I say. “What’s up?”

That’s about the best I can do. And it feels mildly better.

Then he looks up at me. It’s a good thing the lighting here in the parking lot is absolutely terrible. Otherwise, he’d probably see just how much I’m affected. Because I can feel it as my chest tingles and my cheeks heat up. God, he’s just fucking gorgeous. I mean, I knew that from seeing him yesterday and earlier today. But now, standing this close to him again, I can barely keep myself from moving closer.

Would his lips feel the same as they had? Would he taste the same? Would his touch feel as warm? I still remember his hand on my back and that moment—fleeting as it was—when I just... knew.

God, I loved him.

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