The Bestest Cuddle Buddy Ever

I'm Sorry, I'm Bad at Apologies

I drummed my fingers against the counter, watching my oven with unfocused eyes. Jack was mad at me, and I was mad at myself for making Jack mad at me. I had his dinner in the oven and it had ten minutes left. A glance at the clock told me it was a quarter to five, hopefully that was early enough to catch Jack before he made himself food. Now I just had to figure out what I was going to say when I handed it to him... I'd worked myself up that far after my talk with Reilly. I wasn't going to doorbell ditch him, because that was a lil bitch thing to do. I was going to knock on his door and hand him the baking dish and say... I had no fucking clue what I was going to say to him. Just saying 'I'm sorry' didn't seem like enough, but what else could I say? Sorry I'm the worst friend ever and I just took off in the middle of a conversation? Sorry I fell asleep on your shoulder and got irritated when you tried to tell me to take care of myself? Sorry I'm the only person in this complex that within a decade of your age and therefore the only person you find suitable to talk to? Yeah, that last one would work well. I groaned and laid my head on the cold, shiny counter. I had been so nervous about going over to apologize to Jack that I had cleaned my whole apartment to keep myself busy while the ziti was in the oven. Now I just felt more uncomfortable because my apartment hasn't been this clean since I moved in and it had this weird atmosphere now.

The alarm on my phone went off and I swayed to the techno beat for a minute before I slipped on an oven mitt to retrieve my creation. It looked fucking delicious, and it was then that I realized that on my one day off that I hadn't made myself anything to eat for dinner. Shiiit... looks like it was ramen again tonight. I left it to cool a little on the cold stove while I cleaned myself up. I redid my hair in its messy ponytail, brushing stray pieces of parmesan cheese off my shirt. I'm not sure why I cared so much, it was just Jack. I don't think Jack cared too much about my appearance when he wore boxers on camera. I'm sorry; they're shorts, not underwear. I straightened my shirt in the mirror one more time, admiring myself in the mirror. I looked kind of cute with these pants on, they made my legs look better than they actually were. (That's a goddamn lie. You're beautiful and both Jack and I love you. Real Jack is included in that). Well, I'm not getting any cuter by looking in this mirror, guess I'd better get going. I walked back to my kitchen, putting a lid on the ziti and grabbing the garlic bread out of the warmer where I'd left it to stay warm while the ziti cooked. With the food in hand I walked over to Jack's, still not having any clue what I was going to say to him.

I knocked on his door apprehensively, bouncing from foot to foot. He didn't answer. I knocked again, a little louder. Still nothing. I frowned, feeling bad. Maybe he was just recording? Or he knew it was me out here and didn't want to answer the door. Yeah, that must be it. Fuck, he probably hates me... I hung my head, now I had to debate on whether or not I should leave the food out here. I set the food down in front of his door and turned to leave, sadness and disappointment rolling off me in waves.

"Oh hey Y/n, what are you doing out here?" I looked up at the familiar voice. Jack smiled at me, stepping up the last step. I froze, my arms locking in unnatural, awkward positions.

"Oh! Um.. hi Jack, I just..." I stuttered trailing off, feeling my face ignite. This was so damn awkward, what the hell was happening.

"Were you looking for me? Sorry, I was out."

"No it's fine," I assured, my eyes looking everywhere but at him. "I uh, I made you some food... as–as an apology for the other day." I finally dared glance up at him. He looking down at me with an bemused, crooked grin.

"That's so sweet, but you didn't have to do that. I wasn't mad or anything."

"I know I didn't but I- wait, you're not mad at me?" he walked passed me to pick up the dish and tin-wrapped garlic bread I'd left in front of his door. I turned to watch him, wondering what I should do now. Do I just leave? He chuckled, looking over at me like he was utterly perplexed as to why he'd be mad at me. He turned back to the door as he struggled with the lock.