Chapter 10 — The Distance I Tried to Create
1274 Words
I decided to stay away from him.
Not later.
Not “I’ll think about it.”
Now.
It wasn’t dramatic.
No big moment.
Just a quiet decision I made to myself as I walked out of that hallway, trying to steady something that had already started slipping.
It should have been simple.
Avoid him.
Don’t look.
Don’t respond.
Don’t give anything more than what had already been given.
That’s how you stop something before it becomes something else.
That’s how you stay in control.
At least… that’s what I told myself.
The rest of the day, I kept moving.
Different paths.
Different routes.
I didn’t pass the courtyard.
I didn’t slow near places I had seen him before.
I stayed around people.
Groups.
Noise.
Anywhere that felt normal enough to hold me in place.
And for a while—
it worked.
No sudden awareness.
No quiet shifts.
No feeling of being watched.
Just campus.
Just people.
Just life continuing the way it should.
It felt… easier.
Not completely.
But enough.
Enough to make me believe I could actually do it.
That I could step back before it went any further.
By the time my last class ended, I felt lighter.
Not free.
Just less pulled.
I packed my bag slowly, letting that small sense of control settle.
Maybe it really was that simple.
Maybe all I had to do was stop giving it attention.
Stop giving him attention.
I stood, adjusted my bag, and stepped out into the hallway.
Crowded.
Loud.
Safe.
I moved with the flow, not thinking too much, just letting myself blend into everything again.
That’s when it happened.
Not suddenly.
Not dramatically.
Just—
that feeling.
Again.
Soft.
Familiar.
Unwanted.
I slowed.
Just a little.
No.
Not now.
I kept walking.
Didn’t turn.
Didn’t look.
You’re imagining it.
That’s what I told myself.
You’re just expecting it now.
That’s all this is.
But the feeling didn’t fade.
It stayed.
Steady.
Certain.
Like it wasn’t waiting for me to notice.
Like it already knew I had.
I tightened my grip on my bag and kept walking.
Faster this time.
Ignore it.
Just ignore it.
I turned a corner—
and stopped.
He was there.
Leaning against the wall like he had always been part of it.
Like he hadn’t moved.
Like he had been waiting exactly where I was going to end up.
Jace.
My chest tightened.
Not sharply.
Just enough to feel it.
Of course.
Of course it wasn’t that simple.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Students passed between us, barely noticing, their conversations filling the space like this was just another ordinary moment.
But it wasn’t.
It didn’t feel like one.
“You changed your route.”
His voice was calm.
Not accusing.
Just… stating.
I didn’t answer.
Didn’t trust myself to.
“You avoided the courtyard,” he added.
Still calm.
Still certain.
I frowned slightly.
“You’re keeping track now?”
“I always have.”
That made something shift inside me.
Not comfort.
Not fear.
Something else.
Something that felt too close to being understood.
“I wasn’t avoiding anything,” I said.
It sounded weaker than I wanted it to.
“You were.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
That certainty again.
Always that certainty.
I exhaled slowly.
“I can walk wherever I want,” I said.
“You can.”
“Then stop acting like you know why I’m doing it.”
“I’m not acting.”
That silence again.
The kind that doesn’t leave space.
Just fills it.
I took a small step forward.
Not toward him.
Just… forward.
Like I was going to pass him.
Like I wasn’t going to stop this time.
“You’re trying to stay away,” he said quietly.
My steps slowed.
Just slightly.
That was enough.
“I’m not—”
“You are.”
I stopped.
Closed my eyes for a second.
Just to breathe.
Just to steady something that was already slipping again.
When I opened them, he was still there.
Still watching.
Still too calm.
“You don’t get to decide that,” I said.
“I’m not deciding,” he replied. “I’m noticing.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“It’s not.”
I shook my head slightly.
Frustration built quietly.
Not loud.
Not explosive.
Just… there.
“You make this difficult,” I said.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“No,” he said softly.
“You’re making it difficult.”
That hit.
Harder than I expected.
“By doing what?” I asked.
“By pretending you don’t feel it.”
The words settled deep.
Too deep.
I looked away.
Just for a second.
Because that—
that was the part I didn’t want to face.
“I don’t know what you think this is,” I said quietly, “but I don’t want it to become something.”
He didn’t move.
Didn’t react immediately.
Then—
“It already is.”
My chest tightened again.
More this time.
Because there was no hesitation in his voice.
No doubt.
“Not if I stop it now,” I said.
“You won’t.”
That certainty again.
Always that certainty.
“You don’t know that,” I repeated.
He stepped closer.
Not enough to close the space completely.
Just enough to make it harder to ignore.
“You tried,” he said.
My breath caught slightly.
Not enough to show.
Just enough to feel.
“And you’re still here.”
That was true.
I hated that it was true.
“I could still walk away,” I said.
“You could.”
“Then maybe I will.”
A pause.
Then—
“Then why haven’t you?”
The question stayed.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
I didn’t answer.
Because I didn’t have one.
Not a real one.
Not one that made sense.
The hallway felt quieter now.
Or maybe it was just me.
Just this.
Everything narrowing down to this moment.
This space.
This distance I had tried to create—
and failed to keep.
“I don’t like this,” I said finally.
Not loud.
Not defensive.
Just honest.
“I know.”
“That doesn’t change anything.”
“No,” he said.
“It doesn’t.”
Another silence.
Longer.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t push.
Didn’t stop me.
Just… stayed.
Like he always did.
Like he didn’t need to do anything else.
And somehow—
that made it harder.
Because there was nothing to fight.
Nothing to argue with.
Just something that kept pulling—
quietly.
Consistently.
I took a step back.
Then another.
Not turning yet.
Just creating space.
Trying to.
“You’re right,” I said.
His gaze stayed on me.
“About what?”
“I tried.”
The words felt heavier than they should have.
“And it didn’t work.”
Something in his expression shifted.
Not victory.
Not satisfaction.
Something quieter.
Something I couldn’t fully read.
“No,” he said.
“It didn’t.”
I held his gaze for a moment longer.
Then I turned.
This time, I walked.
Not fast.
Not slow.
Just forward.
Again.
And again.
Until the space between us stretched far enough that I couldn’t feel it as strongly.
Or at least—
not as sharply.
But even as I moved further away, blending back into the noise, the movement, the normal rhythm of everything around me—
I knew something had changed.
Not around me.
Inside me.
Because now I understood something clearly.
I hadn’t failed to avoid him.
I had failed to want to.
- Writer
