Clever Girl

Chapter 29: Wide Awake

I wait, for a reaction, for time to stop and shatter across my conscience. For the off-change that he won't say more we can part tonight on good terms, leave everything as it is. It's foolish of me to let every moment with him drive itself to a dramatic conclusion. It's only a big deal if I let it get to that point. 

"Why? It's only dinner. Don't you ever have friends over for dinner?"

"Right, because we all know that's all you see me as," I say, sarcastic and still a little angry at his unceremonious appearance. The anger is overshadowed by embarrassment though. As if the level of shame I felt from receiving a gift wasn't enough, the amount of humiliation I'm experiencing now is almost unbearable. I haven't had a single friend come into my house in years, let alone stay for dinner. With my throat feeling slightly tight, I frown at Jay, "And I don't think we're there yet, you coming inside. It's weird having you here. It's like we're crossing some invisible barrier or something."

"Yet? So we'll be there eventually?"

"I guess. But for now, you need to leave, and promise you won't show up here uninvited again." The fact that my hand is still on his chest becomes horribly aware, and I move it away a little too swiftly, startling myself in the process. 

There's a second where he seems slightly startled as well, but the moment disappears, and his usual haughty expression takes over, "Can you at least tell me why you didn't respond to any of my texts? You said you meant to tell me about it today."

"Not now. It's a long story, and I have hungry people waiting. Come back at eight, and maybe, if I feel like it, I'll tell you then."

He smiles at me - a cavalier half smile, with his mischievous eyes daring me to look away, "I'm going to wait for you, you know that, right?"

"You're going to wait outside for two hours?"

"No I meant. . . however long it takes for you to give me a chance. Or until you tell me you're not into me. Whatever reason you have for always being so closed off, I told you before that it won't make me want you any less. So unless you're secretly a serial killer or, I don't know, a Republican, it won't matter."

"I don't have a secret. We've been over this a million times already." What is there to say to someone who lives in a world of inflexible focus - where no matter how many times they are jilted, they don't waver? Whether he is insisting that I'm lying to him about my level of intellect, or I'm avoiding his advances at every turn, he's still around. The fault lies with me, to a certain degree, since I have never actually told him I'm not interested. This would be a flat out lie. The continued truth is that I don't know when, or if, I'll ever be ready to let anyone in. While the battle of these certainties rages on, I notice that I'm fidgeting with the book, running my fingers along its rim, with my nerves finding a touch of comfort in its pages. "Why do you like me?"

He leans in, "Is that a serious question?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure I've brought this up before too, but we don't even know each other. We haven't had more than two decent conversations since Freshman year, unless you wanna count all the arguments. I'm still the same person I was three months ago."

"I liked you then too. I was just too much of an asshole to admit it."

"You still haven't told me why, other than me being different. But that isn't any reason to like someone, is it?"

"If you do feel like talking to me when I come back tonight, I'll tell you then." He moves closer and kisses me on the cheek, and while I'm very much taken aback, I don't inch away. He then steps back and begins walking towards his car, "I'll see you later, princess."