Red Shoes, Black Coffee (Red & Black #2)

11 | Red sneakers

Ada

I stare at Jed standing before me, wondering whether it's possible to sleep for more than twenty-four hours. No matter in which way I approach it, I always find it impossible. It must be the only explanation, though, because Jed wasn't supposed to be back until Sunday evening. Which means I must have slept all the way from Friday night to the same time two days later.

Either that or Carla had lied to me, which really isn't any better.

Jed blinks, looking just as lost as I feel. He appears ridiculous with his hands up and buried so deep in his hair his fingers are almost invisible. His glasses are on, shielding his eyes, but I can tell they're bigger than usual. My eyes drop to his feet, positioned one in front of the other, as if he froze while taking a step towards me. I freak out a little, just now realizing he might have been standing there for a moment, staring at me before I woke up. Suddenly, I feel exposed and wrap my hands around my midsection tightly, needing to hide from him.

"How long have I slept?" I repeat my question. I can't find a clock anywhere and my phone is officially dead, having lost what was left of its battery even before I went to sleep last nights. Or two nights ago. 

Dammit, I really need to know.

Jed clears his throat, tearing his gaze away from me. Lowering one of his hands, he leaves the other in his hair while he glances at his watch.

"It's quarter to seven." He says.

Those are the first words he utters to me directly, without any audience, since his gooodbye back in Ann Arbor. Heck, this is the first time we're alone since that night in front of Caffair fifteen months ago. That one time in the Caffair here, when I threw myself at him, was in front of a house full of people, and when he wished me to enjoy my date with Colin, he spoke to both of us. Granted, he looked only at me at that moment but the words were addressed at Colin all the same.

This realization downs up on me, making me even more nervous than I already am. I wipe my sweaty hands on my thighs and search for the right words to speak.

"And... um..." How do I put this without sounding crazy? " The day of the week?"

Jed blinks, looking like an owl with glasses. I do realize how it must sound to an outsider but I really need to know.

"What day of the week it is today?" He asks.

I nod.

"Saturday." He sounds as if even he didn't believe in what is happening.

Which is good, because neither do I. At least I'm not alone.

I let out a breath of relief. It's still Saturday. Saturday morning, to be exact. Which means it's Jed who came home early. I haven't slept for forty-eight hours. Surprisingly, this revelation feels me with optimism.

How little I now need to be happy.

I feel the oddest urge to stretch, but for some reason, it would feel strange to do it in front of Jed. The act of stretching in the morning seems somehow intimate. I didn't mind doing all those little things with him fifteen months ago. Right now, sitting on his couch, looking up at him, I feel like a stranger. A shudder rocks its way through my body. It's... sad how two people who have once been so close can act like strangers so quickly.

I clear my throat nervously, then stand up from the couch, not liking how he towers over me. Sliding my hands into my back pockets, I rock back on the balls of my feet, looking for a way to clear the awkwardness between us.

"How..." Jed is the one to speak first and a pang pierces my heart at the familiarity of this situation. He never liked silence. Whenever it threatened to take over, Jed could always find a way to break it. This time, however, he cuts off, shakes his head. I watch him grapple with words, waiting patiently. Few moments pass before he, - finally, - drops the hand that had been buried in his hair for this whole time and rests it on his hip. "Uh... Pardon me for asking, but how are you here?"