Fingertips | ✓

fifteen

Months had gone by and I had managed them all without you. Sometimes I'd feel so proud of how well I was doing that I'd invite Sasha over and I'd cook dinner for the both of us.

I did everything in my willpower to not bump into you. I went to a different supermarket, ordered from different outlet restaurants and even went so far as taking the long route to work in case I crossed you via my usual route. I was always in a haste to get to the office since the clock usually worked against me and the fact that I took the extra time to make my way about my day and afford being late showed just how much I didn't want to see you again. 

I feared that seeing you would cause every ounce of strength I had managed to garner in the past few months to crumble. It had been quite some time since the incident but even after everything I could not forget you. And so I did everything in my willpower to avoid you and had been successful on all accounts. 

All expect one. 

April the first was not one of my lucky days. For a second I thought I was being fooled, that someone had the audacity to play such a cruel joke on me, and my thoughts jumped to Cherly at first. But she'd never do such a thing. I doubt she even wanted to see me again either since she never bothered to reach out. Then again, she and I were never even friends to begin with. 

I was not being fooled. This was not a prank. Never did I expect to see you, after what happened between us, when I opened the door to head to the gym. But there you stood, handsome as ever.

You looked different. Your hair was short now, the bun no longer existent. You were growing a beard, the blonde facial hair adding to your hotness scale. Even though there was a stark physical contrast between the man I once knew and the man that now stood in front of me, I still could not help but find you highly attractive.

I didn't know how long I stood there, staring dumbly at your face. My heart didn't accelerate in pace as it had done countless of times before when we were both in the same space but it did do a double-take when I spotted you at my door, your hand held up in a fist like you were about to knock on the door before I had yanked it open.

My heart didn't act the way it usually did but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt to look at you.

It hurt more than you could imagine. 

It hurt so fucking much. 

"Curry," you said, your voice gravelly smooth.

I laughed unable to control it, my eyes burning with an emotion I hadn't felt in months. "No," I said, shaking my head, my voice thick. "You don't get to call me that."

I shook my head again and dug my heel into the ground, walking around you and towards my car.

"Hey," you called out after me as I shut the door and began to walk away. You stepped in front of me, blocking me from reaching my car. "We can't keep avoiding each other."

I sighed. "Yes, we can."

I was tired of this, Bradley. 

I was tired of us. 

I tried to make my way around you but you jut out your arm to prevent me from going anywhere. The action made you come in direct contact with my skin and I flinched, recoiling away from you as my mind buzzed with the memories of you and I.

"We can start start over, Curry," you whispered. Your face was near to mine, your eyes pleading. You were coming to me, begging. You never came to me. Not after that night. 

"No, Bradley," I bit out, trying to keep myself as collected as I was able to do. But my patience was fraying. "We cannot."

"Look, Curry," you tried to reason, "I made a mistake kissing you. I made a mistake sleeping with you. And I know that triggered something within you but I want to make amends. Fiona told me you're doing great and that you're getting help—"