And I stand there, staring after him long after he’s left.
Eventually, I collapse onto the sofa and curse my poor judgment, my traitorous feelings, my fickle, idiotic heart. Despite my best impression of indifference, he can still see right through me.
Could he tell that my feelings for him go so much deeper than they should?
Could he tell that signing that contract sent a wave of electricity coursing through every nerve?
Could he tell that he alone has encompassed my thoughts and my dreams for the last few days?
I go to the fridge and grab some mandarins that I bought almost a week ago. I make a juice and add a fresh twist of lemon. It reminds me of Chris, oddly enough.
I bartended at a shitty little dive during my sophomore year of college. I had my heart set on this gorgeous teal
