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Jeremy looks startled by what I’ve said. He curses and runs his hand through his hair.

“Charlie, come on, you have to know…”

“I had a great time getting to know you a little bit,” I say, cutting him off. I don’t want to hear excuses. Instead, I reach over and press my hand to his chest, over his heart. “You might think you’re not a relationship person, but I believe you have a good heart. Don’t keep it away from finding the right person.”

I lean in and kiss his cheek, then open the car door and get out, lugging my bag over my shoulder.

“Bye Jeremy,” I say, and shut the door, then walk as confidently as I can back into my building, knowing his eyes are probably still on me.

I make it through the doors, up the elevator, and all the way to my room before the tears start to fall.

* * * * *

A few hours later, I get a text message. I roll over in bed, grabbing my phone and squinting through my puffy eyes.

Jeremy: Look, can we agree that Rachel doesn’t need to know about this? I just want to make sure things aren’t weird.

Prick.

Part of me wants to tell Rachel so Jeremy can get the ass-chewing of his life. But I’m a little embarrassed that Rachel told me not to mess around with Jeremy and I did it anyway. She’s best-friend material, something hard to come by. And I don’t want to fuck it up.

Me: Don’t worry. It never happened.

I never get a response.