'tis the damn season

Three: You're Not Sorry (Taylor's Version)

"You're looking so innocent, I might believe you if I didn't know" 

Yesterday's encounter with Steve had rattled me. As much as I wanted to forget about it, I couldn't. For some reason he felt like he needed to prove himself to me, and I didn't care. He just wanted me to move on and forgive him so he could erase his past. He was just tying up loose ends. He wasn't sorry.

Will had left about an hour ago, riding off on his bike with Lucas and Mike, leaving me alone in the house again. I didn't mind being alone. Normally I was good at keeping myself busy, but for some reason these past couple of days have dragged on. It might have been because I was in a new place. I wasn't as comfortable, or familiar with this house which confused me. I'd grown up here. I thought maybe coming back, it would feel like I never left, but the fact of the matter is that I did leave; and it seemed like that was all I could think about.

I was happy to hear a knock at the door. Considering I had been pacing around the living room for the past half hour.

I open the door to see Dustin standing on the front porch by himself.

"Will's not here," I say.

Dustin shakes his head quickly. "I know, I'm not here for Will, I'm here to see you," he says, stepping inside as if it were obvious.

With my eyebrows lowered I shut the door. "I see," I chuckle.

"You read a lot right? You've got a lot of books," he asks.

"Um, yeah, why?"

He doesn't respond, and instead turns around and starts walking down the hall towards my bedroom. I follow close behind him, getting more and more confused with each step.

"Hello? What are you doing?" I yelp, as he opens the door and walks right in over to one of my bookshelves by the window.

"I need a book," he says simply, tilting his head to the side to read the names on the spines.

Well that narrows it down.

"What kind, I'm sure to could find something for you," I offer, as I watch him move to the shelf on the opposite side of the window.

Dustin sighs heavily. "Do you have any translation books, for different languages?"

I can't help but let out a small laugh. "Yeah but they're not on those shelves," I explain. "Those are all fiction."

He spins around to look at me. "Do you have Russian?"

I think for a moment, trying to remember back a couple years ago when I went through a phase of wanting to be bilingual. Was Russian one of the languages I tried to learn?

"Maybe. Let me see," I answer, getting on my knees next to my bed.

I pull out one of the plastic totes from underneath and open it. I had everything separated by genre, and all my non fiction books were under my bed. It didn't take long before I found a few different books on learning different languages. I found Spanish, French, Italian, German, and sure enough there was a Russian translation book at the bottom of the pile.

"What do you want to learn Russian for?" I laugh, handing the book to him.

He hesitates in answering me. "It's better if you don't know," he says quickly.

"Top secret stuff then huh?" I ask, chuckling.

"Exactly."

Dustin was always the dramatic one.