Page 87 of Falling Backwards
“Shhhhit.” I close my eyes and rub at them with the heels of my hands.
Apparently, I’m a dumbass.And now I’m even more frustratedbecauseI’m a dumbass.
Maggie prompts, “Well?”She sounds disappointed now, like she had faith in me being a decent fake boyfriend and then, after a mere week, she’s begun wondering if it was misplaced.
It wasn’t.
I mutter, “No, I’m not like that—not neglectful or whatever.I was just on the phone with my aunt when you texted me, and I was upset with her, and I forgot to see what you said.”
A few moments of silence.Then she mutters back, “Ah.”
At the sound of shuffling, I drop my hands.Through the spots in my vision, I see her walking away, abandoning the nearly closed door.
I close it myself and prepare to settle in for my inevitable wait.
“What did your aunt do to upset you?”she asks.
Guess she doesn’t mind me hanging around.I’m not telling her the truth, though.“It’s nothing.”
She stops walking again and sends another frown over her shoulder to me.“Then why are you still carrying your bad mood around?”
As I trudge forwards, I speak as measuredly as I can.“No offense, but it’s not your business.It’s not anyone’s business.I’ll get over it when I get over it.”
Her eyes sharpen.She turns to face me fully once more.“Uh, how you treat meismy business.You showing up here and taking your bad mood out on me is—”
“I’m not taking it out on you.I just thought you were being a slowpoke and—”
“Yeah, becauseyoudidn’t read the message I sent becauseyouwere distracted being angry and thenyoudecided it was appropriate to snap at me instead of ask a calm question.”
As I stop in front of her, I notice a few things: that she’s growing slightly breathless, that she smells of something faint but luscious, that the scar cutting through her left eyebrow is in plain sight with her wet hair being swept out of the way, and that I’m quite late on the apology I owe her.
The stubborn part of me doesn’t want to give it.Ridiculous, I know, since I was needlessly rude to her…but people are allowed to be in bad moods, right?Hell, we werebothbad-tempered just two or three days ago and we got over that.
Because we apologized for it,whispers the other part of me, the one that’s been nagging me lately.Have you not learned your lesson?Didn’t you learn almost two weeks ago, even, after the almost-write-up, that sometimes you act immature towards her and you need to do better?
It takes me another second to realize her expression has been falling out of vehemence.However, more disappointment isn’t what’s coming up.Instead, it’s….
“Nevermind,” she says quietly.“You’re…you’re right.”
Curiosity touches me.
“You don’t have to share personal stuff with me.Your situations are your situations, and I’m sorry for prying.”
The unexpected shift has me holding my breath for just a second.
Also has my insides aching and burning at the same time because I wonder if she’s somehow recalling the days when me sharing personal stuff with her ultimately led to her stabbing me in the back.
“Just please try not to aim your stress at me,” she finishes.The request isn’t snarky.
In a way, it should be.I haven’t taken responsibility for my actions.I’ve done the opposite, even—like she said, I did let my mood dictate my behavior, which she didn’t deserve.
In another way, I’m glad she’s not being snarky anymore because it means she understands that I don’t quite deserve it either.Means she respects my privacy.
This reminds me of the way I felt during one specific part of last week’s fake-dating conversation.She said I was being extremely generous to her after how she acted when we were younger, and it felt to me like she was implying that she isn’t proud of what she did.
Could it be so?
Despite what we’ve been through, I care about keeping her safe from what scares her, so could she still be on my side, too, when it comes to what causes me pain?
