What I Should Have Done ✓

Chapter 8

When the credits rolled, I nuzzled my nose further into John's chest, not wanting to move my arm from his stomach, let alone get up. He chuckled quietly, his fingertips running up and down my upper arm again, giving me goosebumps.

"Come on," he whispered, "I'll walk you back to your dorm."

I grunted in response, but slowly sat up and ran a hand through my disheveled hair. He followed my movements intently, but his expression was unreadable. Tension hung in the room like a cloud of thick, impenetrable smoke, seeping into my throat and lungs and making it hard to breathe.

His gaze stuck to mine like sweet, sweet glue, dark hazel eyes pinning me in place. A long moment passed before I was able to slowly rise, the palpitations of my chest roaring in my ears. He gripped the forearm I extended to him and let me pull him off the couch. It was only our forearms, too, which separated us now. His tall frame towered over me and his fingers shot tiny electric shots up my arm, jumping over to the small space of air between us. I kept my gaze straight at his chest which rose and lowered with quick, heavy breaths. This cannot happen.

As if on cue, we let go of each other's arm and turned away from one another. In this unspoken choreography, I put on my gray ankle boots and my navy blue raincoat as he slipped into his formerly-white-now-grayish sneakers to match his practice shorts and windbreaker. It was a misty early-October night in New England. As we exited Ross Hall, John held open the door for me.

"Hey Grace, what're you up to?" asked a voice behind me. When I turned around, Liam smiled at me, but there was badly hidden curiosity in his expression.

"Hey!" I responded more nervously than I wanted to sound.

His backpack was slung over his shoulder, his eyes were tired and his hair was tousled, probably from running his hands through it. It was evident he came straight from a study session at the science library.

"We were just on our way to Starr. We had a study night. I mean, John is walking me. It's safer and all."

My babbling would have put Hugh Grant to shame. The mere inches between my back and John's hard chest did not calm my nerves either. Rather, his woodsy cologne flooded my nostrils and catapulted me back to ten minutes ago when my cheek had been pressed against the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

"I can walk you, I'm going in a similar direction anyway." I could read the justified skepticism in Liam's face.

"It's no trouble." John's low voice rumbled through my ribcage. The friendly message didn't entirely match the subtleties of his tone.

"Thanks anyway," I said quickly, "we should get going. See you tomorrow?"

He nodded and all three of us turned and got moving, John and I exiting the building and Liam walking toward the other exit at the far end of the building. It was a misty, early-October New England night. The humidity weighed down the air and had us walk through a curtain of microscopic droplets of water.

"What was that unspeakable awkwardness about?" John asked once we were out of earshot. "Why did you say we were studying?"

"We were."

"Yeah, two hours ago. So?"

I sighed. "Because."

Stupid.

On any ordinary day I knew lying wouldn't get me anywhere but in trouble, at least lying this badly. But this was not an ordinary day, because ten minutes ago, I had snuggled with John Jay on his couch while watching a rom-com and if that were ordinary, I would never ask for something extraordinary ever again.

"Because what?" he asked, his eyes scrutinizing me. "Do you like him or something?"

"No!" I replied a little too quickly.

Fuck. This is not a conversation we should be having after what happened tonight.

The Adirondack House came up on our left when he put a hand on my arm to stop me and force me to meet his eyes. I was thankful for the relative darkness the broken street lamp in this spot caused.

"Then what?" He arched his eyebrows and it became obvious he wouldn't let this go until I gave him something.

I started walking again, and he followed suit. "Fine. Not that it's any of your business, but I think he likes me and I don't want him to get the wrong idea."

I would have understood if he had been annoyed given my prissy reaction, but John seemed more incredulous than anything. He turned back the way we came as if he could still see Liam from there, then looked at me again. "Liam Confortale."

"How do you know him?"

"French 203, don't deflect. Liam Confortale likes you?"

"First of all, shh! I'm not even sure. Second of all, don't sound so disbelieving."

"I'm not. I—never mind."

He was silent for a minute, and so was I. Then he asked in a lower voice: "Why do you care if he gets the wrong idea if you don't like him?"

Oh my God, you dense boy. Because I have a crush on you even though you're unavailable and can't risk people finding out. Because I don't want Liam's and my friendship to suffer from unreciprocated romantic feelings. And because maybe a small part of me likes the idea that someone, more specifically someone as interesting and kind as him, likes me and doesn't want to jinx that.

Out of all these options, I chose none. "Because you have a girlfriend and I don't want people to think you're cheating on her."

For a fraction of a second, John looked like I had slapped him before he turned his expression into a concrete façade. "Okay."

Damn it, Grace. What are you doing? I hadn't meant to hurt him, but this would have all been much easier if I had known how the hell to read the events of the night.

When we arrived on the fifth floor of Starr, he punched in my room code. I'd given it to him the other week so he could pick up a binder I'd left there and bring it to me when I couldn't go get it myself in between classes. Then he gently pushed open the door for me and I put a foot in the door. Awkwardly, we both leaned in to the same side for a hug, forcing us to step back and coordinate with burning cheeks. His arms snuck around my back as he hugged me tightly, holding me just a second too long.

"Good night, Grace," he whispered into my hair, turned around and disappeared into the staircase without another glance before I had a chance to reply.

"Good night, John," I whispered in my head before I closed the door and flopped onto my bed.

Holy smokes. I'm pretty sure I almost kissed John Jay tonight. Or he almost kissed me. Okay, deep breaths, Grace.

I had wanted to—kiss him, I mean. There was no denying my attraction to him, or his to me. But I didn't know what the moment had meant to him, if anything.

Anyway, he had a girlfriend and this couldn't happen. I wouldn't be a spur-of-the-moment fling. And even if it were more, for which there was no indication, I didn't have time for a relationship. I was under so much pressure already to keep my grades up for a good grad school next year. In sum—ding.

John: I was way out of line tonight, I'm sorry. It won't happen again.

—In sum, I had to get him right off my mind, romantically.

No big deal. This would be a cake walk.