Fragile Little Things ✓

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Jem

I’M BUSY WORKING ON A CAR, the steady heat of being under it warm and welcome. I haven’t called or texted Indie no matter how much I ached to since the time I last saw her two weeks ago. But she hasn’t called or texted either, and if space and patience was what she needed, then I’d give her all of it.

I could be patient, but that didn’t mean it didn’t set me on edge, and I’m one snap away before the boys at the garage went from tolerating me to kicking me out on my ass. I shift my focus to the car in front of me when there’s a nudge at my shoulder. Looking up, I find Ace grinning at me. I narrow my eyes. “What? ”

 “Someone’s here to see you.”

I frown to myself, but shift from under the vehicle, wiping my hands and walking to the front, nonetheless. This better not be one of Ace’s stupid pranks, where he lures you to a certain spot and pulls a string and a bucket of water falls on you or some shit. As I stride further away from the heart of the garage, it gets increasingly cold, and the thought of an onslaught of water makes me pretty fucking angry.

I’m so preoccupied with my thoughts I don’t notice that there actually is someone waiting for me. Face flushed with freckles and long curly hair loose. Indigo. She meets my gaze for a moment, those big brown eyes hesitant, before she draws her gaze away quicky.

She’s wearing an off the shoulder top, and although the material seems warm, I doubt the lack of it on her shoulders offers much reprieve from the snow. I hold back a grin. She must obviously care more for fashion than comfort. I recall the time she phoned me, and I found her in a barely-there top— when she was waiting on that abandoned alleyway all alone after her asshole ex cheated, and it strips away any impending humor.

“Hey,” she says, after what seems like eons.

“Hey,” I reply, strangely soft, and a flush warms her cheeks.

She wrings her hands, and I realize that she’s nervous as shit. I’ve never seen her like this before, and the sight both crushes and amuses me.

“I – uh.” She swallows. “I wanted to talk to you.”

I reach forward to lead her into the garage, where it’ll be warmer, but she presses forward like if she doesn’t get the words out now, she never will. So I drop my hand, nodding. “Okay.”

She nods, her energy jittery. “It hasn’t —” She pauses, like this wasn’t planned and now that she’s here, it’s hard to conjure up the right words. “It hasn’t been that long since I broke up with Kade, and I know I needed time to process it and move forward. Which means that I really should stay away from you—” I frown at that.

There’s a strange fragility to her when she speaks again. “But I couldn’t.”

And just like that, the frown slips from my mouth as I fight a smile instead. Indie doesn’t catch it, still not meeting my eye as she continues to speak.

“I just couldn’t. And then I thought: who am I waiting for, anyway? I didn’t do anything wrong. Why am I punishing myself? So . . . I’m here now. And I’m not asking you to be my friend.” I frown again, and she blinks rapidly. “Or for something more . . . or whatever it is that we are. But you haven’t called or texted for a week, and I didn’t know if you were mad at me, and I just wanted to—”

“Indigo. Hold up a second. You’re my friend, alright?” A dark part of me hissed and snarled at that. Accepted that it was true, but also wanted far, far more. Wanted things so filthy and carnal I’d never say it out loud. I clear my throat, meeting her gaze.