Even Wilder

Violet

Days turned into weeks, and I was moving forward. I realized how much when I looked up from my work. I was sitting in the middle of the library instead of my apartment.

I'd been venturing out more and more now that Wilder and I were playing this stupid game of avoiding each other. I still didn't understand it completely. But I wasn't ready to confront him about it either.

I was hurt, and I didn't know what to say without lashing out at him. And I didn't want to do that. I cared about him. I didn't want to say something I couldn't take back.

I looked down at my notebook and scribbled down some more notes.

"It's you again." A voice I wasn't familiar with brought my attention away from my work. It was Mac.

"Hey." I smiled.

"Hey. You studying?"

I nodded. "Yeah, big test tomorrow. I want to make sure I don't fail." I toyed with my pen. I was happy to see him again. He was nice—and I wasn't used to nice outside of Wilder.

"I'm sure you'll do fine."

"What are you doing here?" I could start the conversation. Now that I knew he wasn't out to insult me, it was a little easier.

"I was researching old jewelry techniques for a project I'm working on." He shrugged.

My words failed, and I dropped my gaze back down to my notebook. I wasn't good at conversation. I was terrible at it.

"Do you like coffee?"

"Yeah." He wasn't turned off by my lack of socializing. He was still trying to get to know me. "I like cappuccino."

He pulled out the chair across from me and sat down. "There's a little coffee shop a couple of blocks over. If you want to get coffee sometime."

He wanted to grab coffee with me. I couldn't believe it.

"Unless you aren't interested, then I get it."

"I'm interested." I wasn't going to let this opportunity slip away. I was dying for a friend—a genuine friend. Making friends was what I prayed for since I started going to school away from home. If even one person could take the chance on me, maybe I could make it so far away from home.

"Then I think we should exchange numbers," he insisted, blue eyes smiling at me. His smile was nice. And his eyes were soft and gentle. He ran a hand through his hair, crashing through the waves, creating a new mess. But it worked.

I handed over my phone and watched him input his number. I admired his brilliant blue eyes. He was cool without even trying.

"Okay. Well, I'll let you get back to work. And I'll shoot you a text sometime." He got up to leave. "Feel free to do the same."

I nodded and waved, watching him head out of the library. I couldn't shake the big stupid grin on my face. Mac was cool. And he wanted to hang out—with me. And for once in my life, I didn't feel worried or scared about doing so.

Two days later, on my way home from a class, he texted me. He asked me what I was doing, and I said nothing. He invited me for cappuccinos and even offered to meet me at my place and walk there with me.

We talked all the way. He asked all the questions, never letting a single moment pass where I felt uncomfortable being with him. He wanted to know me—he proved it question after question.

I never had anyone ask me so much about myself. I never knew anyone cared.

"What are your parents like?" His next question was a doozy.