Chapter 3 #2
He looks away, glancing toward the stairwell like he’s calculating escape routes. “Nothing changed. I just didn’t feel like texting.”
I pause, watching the hard lines of his posture bunch further. “Are you stressed about exams? Is that what’s going on?”
“There’s nothing going on,” Eric insists as he takes a small step back. “I had practice notes to review, a paper to outline, and an exam to study for. Your obligatory check-in text wasn’t my top priority. I don’t have to be available 24/7.”
“Check-in text?” I repeat, the words stinging more than they should. “You have a lot going on and I wanted to make sure you were okay. That’s what you call it?”
He finally meets my eyes, but he’s guarded. “Yeah. That’s what it feels like sometimes, D. Like I’m the guy you settle for when you’re not busy with someone else. Like I’m on standby. And last night I just… didn’t want to be on standby.”
I stare at him. “That’s not how it is.”
“Isn’t it?” he challenges. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly like that. You go out with Jaden and have your fun, then when the date’s winding down, you remember me. So you shoot off a text to make yourself feel better.”
“That’s not why I text you,” I argue.
Eric shakes his head and glances away. “You’ve got everyone fighting for your attention, so maybe I was tired of forcing you to give it to me.”
“Forcing me?” I demand. “You don’t—”
“I needed a night where I didn’t feel like a backup plan.”
The hallway is almost empty now, with just us and the echo of his accusation. I swallow hard. “You’re twisting it,” I say quietly. “You know that’s not what you are to me.”
“Yeah, well, it feels like it sometimes.” He’s breathing fast as his eyes flick to the stairwell again, like he’s seconds from bolting. His hands are clenched, knuckles white around the strap of his bag.
He’s not giving me anything real. Just walls and deflection. Anger as armor.
“Do I really make you feel like that?”
He flinches like I’ve yelled, staring at the floor for a beat before looking back up at me. “Sometimes, yeah,” he admits. “You’ve just… it’s always been so easy for you to make friends, and it’s not that simple for me. You might have a dozen replacements for me waiting in the wings, but I don’t.”
“There are no replacements, Eric. Are you serious right now?”
“There is always someone fighting for your time. Always.”
My heart stings at the thought that I’ve ever made him feel disposable, but another thought emerges from the guilt. “Do you know the last time we fought like this?” I ask gently.
His brows bunch at the change in subject, but he shakes his head.
“When I was dating Stephen.”
Eric’s eyes widen, pupils flaring like a deer caught in the damn headlights before he shakes it off. “Yeah, well, you needed a wake up call. Stephen was a tool.”
“Yeah, he was,” I concede.
He also wasn’t Eric.
I take a step closer and reach for his arm, my fingers circling his wrist. “You can’t shut me out like this. Do you really think I’d just let you walk away?”
He stares at my hold on him before he deflates, and the rest of the fight drains out of him. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just… needed a minute. That’s all.”
“Away from me?” He gives a one-shouldered shrug as I tug on his wrist. “That was more than a minute. That was all night. You’ve never done that to me before.”
He swallows, the column of his throat dipping with the action. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. My head was just… loud, and I couldn’t deal with it last night.”
“Deal with what?”
“Any of it,” he says. The hallway falls silent except for the faint hum of the HVAC as I wait for more. I need it, and am damn near close to begging for an explanation, but he doesn’t elaborate.
“I ended things with Jaden last night,” I say without preamble, then release a rueful laugh. “Well, technically he ended things with me.”
Eric’s expression flickers into surprise, then shifts into something guarded. “Why?”
“I don’t know how to explain it,” I respond, mirroring his response from just moments ago. He huffs a laugh as he rolls his eyes, and my shoulders loosen by a notch. “Are we okay?”
He hesitates, but when he lifts his face back to mine, there’s an apology in his eyes. “We’re always okay. I’m sorry I overreacted.”
“S’okay,” I whisper as I tug him closer, and he resists for a split second before he wraps me in a hug. “I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you weren’t important.”
“I didn’t mean that,” he murmurs into my shoulder.
It’s dangerous to feel his arms around me, and to surround myself with the rainwater scent of his shampoo, but I hold on anyway. “No, you meant it, and that’s valid. I’ll do better at showing you how important you are to me, okay?”
He nods, and for a moment we stay just like that. When he pulls away, I fight not to drag him back into my arms.
“I really do need to cram for this exam,” he says, cautious like he’s dipping his toes in to test the water. “Last night wasn’t the most productive.”
“Okay. You go study, and text me later… when you feel like it. Are we, uh, good for coffee tomorrow?” I ask, and I hold my breath until he nods.
“What else would I do with a Thursday afternoon?” he asks, flashing me another careful smile before squeezing my arm and heading toward the door.