Page 17 of Before I Loved You

She swallows what’s in her mouth before saying, “We met last year when I moved in. She’s a junior at LU and lives down the hall across Jason now.”

She lives in this building…

Just down the hall…

Is this a sick joke?

I rub a hand up and down my face, not letting Natalie see me internally berating myself because apparently, I wasn’t looking hard enough for Sarah if she’s been living in this building the whole damn time I’ve been searching for her.

I finish the slice of pizza in my hand and get up from my seat. “Well, I better get going. I’ve got to be up early for basketball tomorrow. I’ll see you at the house,” I say to Nate as I pat Natalie on the top of her head.

Walking into the hallway, I start to make my way for the elevator, but before I know what I’m doing, my feet take me in the opposite direction, heading down the hall straight for the apartment door across from Jason’s.

My feet stop right before the threshold as I bring my hand up to knock, but I stop myself.

What am I doing?

This girl probably hasn’t even thought about that night.

She only wanted one night.

One fucking night.

I shake my head, squeezing the back of my neck, and take a deep breath, pinching my eyes shut before opening them and looking directly at her door.

I’m not a coward.

I am Paul fucking Weston.

And I will knock on this door if it’s the last thing I do.

I tap my knuckles against the door and step back, not wanting to crowd her if she does open the door. I know some people find my height intimidating, and that’s the last thing I want to do: intimidate her.

Of course, she didn’t seem intimidated by my height that night…

I wait a minute and another and another before I start to feel discouraged.

She’s not here.

Well, that or she sees me through the peephole, and she’s choosing not to answer.

I’ll go with the first option for the sake of my pride.

My shoulders drop as I spin on my heels and stride toward the awaiting elevator, mocking me with its silver doors wide open for me.

An hour later, I’m home, showered, and lying in bed, resuming my solo Star Wars marathon.

Yes, I’m a nerd.

I’m also a twenty-two-year-old guy who should be out enjoying his senior year of college, but I’m an old soul. Or at least that’s what my mom always calls me. I prefer the comfort of close friends and nostalgic “nerdy” movies to going to unfamiliar places and meeting new people.

And because of that, I’ve always felt like something was wrong with me.

Maybe I’m being a bit dramatic, but it’s hard not to think that way when you’ve spent half your life feeling like an outsider. I’ve always been the person people want to know on a surface level, but when it comes down to knowing me personally, people seem to lose interest.

Because they don’t truly care about the man in the jersey.

They only care about the status my last name brings with it.

---