Uncomfortable

Chapter 5

Jace

I knew Krystal was pure drama from the moment I saw her shouting at the top of her lungs in front of my house, but tonight just confirmed my earlier assumption. Drama is attracted to this girl like a magnet.

Sure, that guy inside was a creep, and she didn’t deserve the way he treated her. And of course I defended her—because it was the right thing to do—but that doesn’t change the fact that twice in one week, I’ve had run-ins with this girl that left me amped up and stressed out. I’m just over a year and a half from graduating. My goal going into this school year was to keep my head down, make good grades, and stay away from women, especially card-carrying members of the crazy club who are on a first-name basis with drama, a.k.a. Krystal.

“Are you here with someone?” I ask, hoping I can escort her to wherever her friends are and then get the hell out of here. I never should have come to this party in the first place. But if you didn’t come, that guy could have done worse to her than he actually did, I remind myself.

She shoots me a mocking look. “You mean, like a boyfriend?”

“I’m pretty sure we already established that you don’t have one of those. I meant like friends or something. Are you alone or part of a group?”

She shuffles her feet and looks away sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m here with friends.”

“Do you want me to take you to them, or walk you back to your dorm or something?” I mentally cross my fingers, hoping she’ll opt for meeting up with her friends.

“Honestly?” She says hesitantly, then takes a deep breath and dives in. “I’d love to go home. I didn’t even want to come here tonight. My friends made me. They were tired of me moping around and refusing to get out of bed.”

“Because of your breakup?” I shouldn’t have asked, but I did and I can’t take it back now.

She side-eyes me with a weird expression I can’t quite interpret. “Uh… sure.”

Suddenly itching to be away from this party, I stand and hold my arm out to her in an old-timey gentlemanly gesture that I don’t expect her to accept. “Alright then, let’s get you home. Do you need to let your friends know you’re leaving?”

“I’ll just text them. She pulls her phone out of her back pocket and slips her arm through mine. She’s so much shorter than me, she has to hang her hand on my arm instead of looping it around, but this isn’t an uncomfortable way to walk. She’s so close, the floral scent of her shampoo floats up from her dark curls to tickle my nose.

Our walk toward the dorms is quiet. Krystal stares down at the phone in her hands, presumably texting her friends. I respectfully avoid looking at her screen, choosing instead to look around at the scenery, at the sky, at the night. We pass a handful of students during our trek, none of whom I know. With the quiet ambiance and her arm tucked into mine, it would be easy to imagine this as the end of some romantic date. Me walking her home after a night out together.

But I don’t date anymore, not after Amanda. And even if I did, I would choose someone so much lower key than Krystal. She’s beautiful, no doubt about it, with buttery olive skin and dark chestnut curls. Her features are soft, delicate, and her eyes are the palest of grays. No denying, I’m attracted to her, but I can’t escape the feeling that being with her would be akin to parasailing during a hurricane. Exhilarating, maybe, but fraught with instability and risk.

Eventually, she slips her phone back into her pocket, and clears her throat. “Thank you. For walking me home.”

“Sure.”

And we walk on in a comfortable silence. I didn’t peg her for the comfortable silence type.

When we reach her building, she pulls her arm from mine and turns to face me, still standing close enough to leave me bathed in the soft scent of her. “Do I seem familiar to you at all?”

Well, that was random. “You mean other than from the other day?”

She nods.

“Nope.”

“You’ve never like… seen me around or… you know…” She looks away as if unable to meet my gaze for whatever she’s about to say. “…any pictures of me?”

“Are you trying to say you’re like famous or something?” I’m suddenly wondering if I need to brush up on my coed pop culture.

“Not famous,” she answers, then smiles widely—a genuine smile that almost takes my breath away. I take a couple of steps backward, away from her, and shove my hands deep into the pockets of my jeans, more than a little disturbed by my own response to just that smile. And by how much I want to make her smile again.

“So…” She starts, then trails off.

“So?”

“I, uh, don’t usually do this, but… could I have your number? Maybe call you sometime? To hangout or whatever?”

She’s asking me out? I did not expect that. And for the briefest of moments, I consider saying yes. Something about her calls to me, makes me want to be near her. But for so many reasons, I say instead, “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

Her face falls into a mask of disappointment, and I feel like a total ass. I shot her down, and I wasn’t exactly nice about it.

 “It’s just that I don’t—I’m not really dating. Right now. Currently.” I stumble over my words trying to make her understand that my reason for saying no isn’t about her. Well, not entirely. She doesn’t need to know that I think she’s too high drama and that a relationship between us would never work. Better to give her a half truth and let her believe it’s all me.

“Oh.” Her expression is skeptical; she’s not buying my answer.

“I’m kind of fresh out of a relationship.” Almost truth. “And it ended…” I swallow hard. I haven’t talked about Amanda with anyone in so long. I clear my throat and try again. “It didn’t end well.”

Hopefully, she’ll accept that and let it go.

She searches my expression, her gaze scanning my face carefully before she responds. “I’ve been there,” she says in a commiserating tone.

I doubt it. I attempt a smile and take another couple of steps away, back in the direction we just came from.  “Have a good night, Krystal.”

“You, too, Jace.” She watches me until I turn around, maybe even after. I don’t know because I don’t look back at her. No matter how much I want to.