Mosaicked Feelings

XVIII: Was He Cheating?

How to make friends?

The black letters shone on my phone screen, screaming my friendship failure past on my face, as I blankly scrolled articles and blogs on why people -- me to be precise -- failed to have these simple relationships, and why wasn't I good enough for people. It sounded such a familiar word when I skimmed through pages on pages of why I was not good at it. But the concept of friendship itself felt merely distant.

It was something in university that I finally realised how bad I was with friendships in general. Either guys or girls, no one seemed to want to hang out with such a creep like me for as long as elementary school.

In elementary school was when I realised chasing after people was the key to friendships. In middle school I used to despise those groups of chattering girls, talking about all the girl talk and showing how together their lives were. Whereas I sat there with a few girls who had nothing better to talk about.

And I failed at it in university as well. And no amount of 'time will change everything' and adulthood changed my friendship life.

I exhaled loudly, exhausted, as I clicked my phone off, sliding it on the table of the now sorted books. Dragging my consciousness back to reality, I resumed my work of fixing the other shelves whilst diving deep into the kinds of stories that surrounded me.

Work was one thing I was super grateful to have. It helped in keeping my mind occupied, and also to get enough money to buy things, I couldn't otherwise. Hence, I spent the remaining day working extra hours there. Edward, on the other hand, would accompany me sometimes, checking up on me and telling me everything about the books. He would sneak in between times, filling me up with kisses and hugs. It was super nice of him whenever he showed up but for some reason, his touch had started giving me anxiety. I didn't want to sound rude by backing off from him every time he showed his affectionate gestures so instead I just started to let him be. More particularly, I knew it was that post that kept nagging midst my thoughts but I resorted to not telling Edward about it for the time being. Instead, I concluded I was better off handling it on my own, or just grieving about it alone since I knew there was nothing I could do about it.

It was over late evening now as I tiredly and forcedly, collected the books from the counter to place them back. I was almost over with the last batch of the books when I felt a steady push on my shoulder and some of the novels I was holding fell on the wooden floor, with a thud.

"I'm sorry, I'll help," Was abruptly followed by a tall figure bending over the lying books. My eyes fell on the intruder and instantly recognised him from the same guy on the bus just yesterday.

"No, I'll handle." I sternly bent, picking up the pieces, feeling slightly annoyed at his presence.

"Didn't know you worked here. That's cute." He grinned at me, gazing at the hem of my skirt.

"Yeah, that's why you're here?" I questioned, without even looking up at him and fixing up the mess quickly. I slightly peeked behind my shoulder to find any sign of Edward but I was sure he was at the other side of the store, completely oblivious.

"Chill. I just wanted to check around the place and probably find a good book, if you have any recommendations," He spoke coolly, leaning his arm over the shelf, scanning the place all around.

Now if I was a bold confident girl, I would've suggested to him the book, The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck. But I knew it would cost me my work, and also my already simmering anxiety, so I remained quiet instead. "You can look around if you want," I dismissed extra formally. I kept my concentration fixated on anything in the room but him, feeling my heart increasing its pace.