Until We Meet Again

36. what else?

I make way down the hall, staring at the stained dark green carpet and endings of popcorn walls as I make my way to the staircase numerous steps away from me. I barely watch out for the feet that belong to my floormates, and avoid tripping on anyone's polished shoes. I can't even stand up straight, and my eyes are glued to the ground like there are hidden codes written across the floor.

"Priscilla?" I hear someone ask. I know who it is.

Great, now they're stalking me.

I look up for the first time in that very short walk, and I make instant eye contact with Rowan. They're staring at me all innocently, tightly tugging on a short string that's been pulled from their navy rib-knit sweater with their grey nail-polished fingers and persistently tapping one of their leather black boots on the ground. Their light brown hair has been growing out more, and I wonder if I'll ever get the chance to run my hands through it once more.

Probably not.

"Hey, what's up?" I try to say all nicely, faked innocence in my voice like I haven't seen all of their texts.

"I came up to check up on you," Rowan tells me.

"Why?"

"You've been ignoring me."

I can't do this right now. Can't I at least have a few days before I get started on my quest to being a better human?

"I have a test tomorrow, I don't have time for this," I say to them right away, and I attempt to walk around them but they make their best effort to block off the remaining distance with their arms as if I don't have any other options.

"Time for what? Your girlfriend?"

That came out the wrong way, but also. . . I don't remember us ever very clearly defining our relationship status. We never really had a real conversation about it.

I shrug, and practically plead with them like I'm a pathetic joke begging for some kind of response, "can we talk about this tomorrow?"

I'll fix everything with them. Tomorrow. I need time to figure out what I even want to say and how I can break it to them. 

"Priscilla, if you're playing a game with me then just tell me," they say loudly.

Someone passes by us, walking down the hallway, and awkwardly makes their way around Rowan's small scene with a meek, "excuse me."

Rowan flinches, thrown off by the presence of another person but instantly returns to their stern gaze as they tell me, "I don't think I like you very much right now."

"What do you want me to do about that? I said we can talk about it tomorrow."

"No! I've been very patient with you, and you've been ghosting me."

They're trying to play their emotions off as anger, but I can tell in their eyes that they're hurt. By me. I did this to them. Maybe my journey to working on myself as a person can just start now, no preparation needed. 

"I don't want to date you," I finally tell them plainly, fully aware that I don't have a choice at this point.

I had tried to avoid saying that the moment they confessed their feelings, and it comes out of me so easily now. Maybe I don't care, or maybe I've simply lost my own ability to shut up. Either way, it's not how I wanted it to come out. If Rowan had just let me go, I could have come up with something better.

They roll their eyes, and say, "I assumed that was the case. Then why sleep with me? Did you change your mind? Or did you just never like me that way?"

So many questions.