Avery

~10~

The drive home is quiet. Peaceful. We share the odd word, but we are comfortable enough to not feel the need to fill the silence, which is weird to say about a man I don't know but have kissed.

Now that it happens to have been brought up...

Our kiss has yet to appear in conversation, which leads me to believe it meant nothing and I should forget about it.

I think about it more than I should. It distracts me at the worst times, flooding my brain with the memory.

It's hard to tell whether I hate thinking about it or not.

When the image pops into my head I get the worst chills all through my body, so I imagine that its not a good thing.

My mind is running, I don't even have time to stop myself before the words slip off my tongue.

"Do you regret it?" His eyes widen, like he already knows what I'm referring to, but I still end up saying it. 

"Kissing me I mean. You seem to want to forget about it, which is completely fine! I just want to make sure we are on the same page." I look down at my shaky hands.

Why would I ask that? I probably made him uncomfortable.

"Are you serious?" He sounds sort of shocked, almost confused.

"Yeah, you just show no interest in talking to me then you kiss me then its back to this crap where you avoid me again, you send a lot of mixed signals, buddy." I poke his shoulder with my finger and he looks at me, eyes narrowed.

"Don't call me that." His face looks disgusted and I immediately retreat so far into my seat I may as well become one with the fabric.

I knew it.

We fall silent again for a few moments and I close my eyes, pretending none of that just happened.

Until he talks again.

"I don't regret it." Is all he says.

I wait for further explanation to follow but nope.

A man of few words.

I internally roll my eyes at his lack of emotion or communication.

Then the car comes to a halt and I'm too focused on his face, desperate to find some kind of answers, to notice we are parked right outside my apartment building.

He gets out of the car and walks around the front of the car before taking a weird pause but then turns and stands beside the door to my building.

"You don't have to chaperone me everywhere, I can find my home by myself." I laugh, more like shout over, stepping out the car.

He shrugs, but doesn't meet my eyes and he doesn't talk, and I fear I've ruined our very small, slow progress as friends.

We don't share single look or word as we get into the elevator and I immediately get a flashback to last time.

It gives me that familiar feeling in my stomach, a strange fluttering I can't describe.

The tension is thick, I feel like I'm suffocating.

My hands are shaking, fists clenching and unclenching, desperate for the doors to open and free me from the awkward silence.

I feel something touch my left pinky finger and I flinch back. 

I look down to see Adam's brush against mine, so gently I can barely feel it.

Slowly, I move my hand back down to where it was before, maybe a little closer.