10. Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Katherine
E lla’s continuing battle to get James and me to be friends continues.
But this time she’s taken it too far. She’s invited the devil right into my only sanctuary. Her home.
I’m standing at the closed French doors in my room while on the phone with Nick. I wave to Maddie as I see her walk into the garden, ignoring James.
I’ve found it’s the only way forward, if I pretend he doesn’t exist, then he can’t get on my nerves. It’s a foolproof plan if you ask me.
“Bella’s been stressed a lot lately. Has she said anything to you?” Nick asks me. He’s right, she has been, more than I’ve ever seen. I don’t even remember her being this stressed during our finals or when she was applying for jobs.
“No, but you know what she’s like.” He lets out a small laugh on the other end of the phone and it only just reminds me of how much I miss him. “But tell me what’s going on with you? Any luck with jobs?” Nick and I don't talk on the phone as much as Bella and I do, so I miss more about what’s going on with him.
I feel the sigh he lets out in my bones. “I’ve applied to a few game designer positions but haven’t heard anything as of yet.” I hate the tone of his voice, like he wants to give up, like he feels like he’s not good enough. He’s wrong, of course. He’s one of the most talented artists I’ve ever seen, he just doesn’t believe in himself.
All he needs is one yes, one person to open a door for him and he could do anything. The dream for him is to design video games but it’s a competitive field much like journalism and photography. As a group we really chose some stable jobs to go into.
Not.
“Nick, you’ll get one, just gotta have hope. You never know what’s around the corner.”
He pauses for a minute, it actually feels like an hour. I hate talking on the phone, it feels so impersonal. But it's the closest thing I have with him right now, and at least I get to hear his voice.
“I better let you go,” he finally says.
I sigh. “Yeah, cause I’m really looking forward to it,” I say, sarcasm laced with every word. But he finally laughs and it’s wonderful to hear.
“Speak soon, miss you,” he says before hanging up and I feel like I’m even farther away from him than just an ocean. I truly wish I could just forget all this, just love him, it would be so easy. So simple, but I know it would be unfair to him and I can’t think of anything worse than hurting him.
“Why so many highlighters?” James asks from behind me and I definitely jump at least five feet in the air and my heart jumps an extra ten.
“What are you doing?” I question trying to get my breathing back to normal making sure he hasn’t given me a heart attack. I walk over to where he stands at my desk. I’m not possessive over my things by any means but the things at my desk, my books, and notebooks, that’s different, and don’t get me started on my laptop.
“Ella asked for you. Why do your books have so many coloured tabs?” He asks again as he picks up the novel I finished last night, flicking the page a little. I get nervous instantly .
Those tabs are for lines I liked so much I want to go back and reread them, or for moments that made me laugh and cry and for those moments when I literally wanted to, or did, throw my book across the room. They’re for the moments that made me fall into a different world where I don’t have to be my own main character, or I get to be a character with some great power that makes me feel unstoppable. Moments that make me think I can go on. They are not moments for him.
“Would you just—” I say as I take the book out of his hands and put it back down.
His eyes scan my desk even as I’m standing right there like the nosey, insufferable man he is. I tap my foot on the floor and wait for him to look back up at me, but he doesn’t.
Instead his eyes move and look at the rest of the room. Moving from the desk, to the wall of pictures, to the chest of drawers with my knick-knacks on. And then he settles on my bed for a second. A second far too long for my liking. I get this feeling all over as if maybe this is okay, him being in my space and even though I’d really like him to leave I also kinda don’t. It’s odd, maddening even, and I want it to stop.
“Okay that’s enough,” I say, snapping my fingers near his ear bringing his focus back to my face. I feel my skin start to heat and itch. I need him out of my space within the next minute or I might completely combust.
Or throw him on the bed?
No! God no.
Yes, he needs to be gone, now. Before my brain completely melts out of my ears apparently.
“You said Ella asked for me,” I say, hoping if I remind him, his two brain cells might work just long enough to help us both end this interaction .
“Right, yeah, she said food’s ready,” he says, looking me over like he just did my room. We’ve been in this weird in-between for a week now since that date in the bar.
The evening I had after he invaded the date was actually okay. It’s like, if I hang with him in a group, it turns out he’s not that terrible. But then there was yesterday when he stood up for me. I believe I should be able to stand up for myself, deal with my own problems. Yet what is it about a man like James stepping in and telling a guy to fuck off for you?
If only we could actually put our differences aside and be friends. Okay, maybe I don’t mean that. Maybe we could at least be civil with each other.
But the way he’s looking at me, I don’t think that could ever be possible. His eyes have shifted from indifference to something much darker than their usual ocean blue, to a sea storm that could drown me. He blinks as if he can tell they’ve changed too, but it doesn’t do any good. I know what he’s thinking, poor little romantic Katherine but something much shittier cause it’s him.
I try not to be disappointed because why should I be, why should I care, why do I need his approval?
I turn and open up the French doors, letting in the warm breeze, and only turning around to make sure he’s following me because I’m not leaving him there in my safe space.
He’s already in my head.