But why?

Why do I want this guy who didn’t even like me until he rescued me from being assaulted?  We didn’t have some instant spark-like connection, no static, no electricity that are always described in the romance books I’m obsessed with.  We hated each other for a few days after we met.  My life is no fucking fairytale.  I must have fallen for him because of his heroism or some nonsensical subconscious hormonal reaction I can’t explain.

Wait—what?

Knocking the pillow from my face, I come up for air.  That must be it; I was restricting oxygen to my brain for a few minutes.  After a few deep breaths though, nothing miraculous has changed.  Now I feel ridiculous.  I have not fallen for Jacoby.  But madly crushing on his deep chocolate brown eyes, warms strong arms, soft tender lips and sexy smile?  Yup.  Most definitely.  I can’t deny that.

My phone rings again and again, so without accidently pushing the ignore button, I silence the ringer.  I shouldn’t have left Mr. Ryan’s house.  I should have locked myself in the bedroom and sorted through my feelings, much like I’m doing right now.  At least then I’d have been safe at his place.  Not here, paranoid and hiding under my blanket like a freaking child where I can guarantee Wyatt is going to be pounding on my door in twenty minutes.

I don’t know what to do now.  I can’t go crawling back to Jacoby and ask to stay with him again, because even though I left out of hurt, it wasn’t the wrong thing to do.  I meant what I said about not staying there forever.  He gave me a couple days to sleep soundly, and now I need to move on and get back to my life.  Wyatt will give up eventually.  And if I’m careful, he won’t be able to get to me again.

I put my earphones in and turn my iPod to shuffle, content with knowing this is for the best.  That doesn’t mean, as I lie back on my pillow and close my eyes, it isn’t Jacoby’s face I see, but at least I know we never could have made it work.  Not for several more months when I would graduate, if ever.

My eyelids fall heavy, and I drift off to the sound of Joshua Radin serenading me in my ears…

Thump, thump, thump!

The rapid pounding startles me from my unremarkable dream, and I bolt straight up in my bed where I had fallen asleep still wearing my clothes.

Thump, thump, thump!

Do I pretend I’m asleep, or do I tell him to fuck off?  Maybe I should call the cops.

Finding my phone off the floor, where I must have knocked it off the bed, I pad nervously to the door.  Sliding my feet the last few inches, I brace myself on the door frame and stand on tip toe to peer into the peephole.  I see nothing except the empty hall.  He’s toying with me.  Lowering myself to flat feet once more, I remain motionless, afraid he’s listening out of sight.  But another thump, thump, thump causes me to gasp.

“Tatum?  Tatum, open up.  It’s me.”

Jacoby?  What the hell is he doing here?  Fighting my initial reaction to fling the door open, I look into the peep hole again.  Sure enough, there he is.  Brown hair tousled, his dark eyes rimmed with tired circles, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

“What do you want?”

“I wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

I don’t know what I was expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that.

“I’m fine,” I call back, tamping down the tiny thrill that flares in my belly.  A stupid, gut clenching reaction because someone actually cares.

“I don’t believe you.  Let me see you.”

“I don’t want to see you.”  That’s the truth.  I’m still hurt and embarrassed from earlier.  I’ll see him Monday and even that will be far too soon.

“Tatum, I’m sorry.”  Something in the way his voice cracks around my name has me peering into the little circular window once more.  His hands are framed on either side of the door.  He looks sad, stricken, like he’s warring with something inside of himself.  I watch enraptured as he scrubs a hand across his eyes before he droops his head.  “I need to make sure you’re okay, and then I’ll go.”

My fingers twitch with the ache to turn the lock and let him in.  Instead, I turn around and slide my back down the door until I’m seated on the floor.  No good can come from letting him in at three a.m.  Especially after the weekend we’ve had.  “I’m not letting you in.”

His sigh echoes through the door.  “Fine.  Then promise me you won’t leave.”

“Jacoby, I can’t.”

“I saw him in the parking lot.  Wyatt…He was here, and I just need to know you’re safe.”

The mention of Wyatt kicks my heart rate up a notch.  “I can’t have you keeping tabs on me.  We’ll both go crazy.”

“Then just promise me, and I’ll go.  Promise me you won’t leave alone or without telling a friend where you’re going.  For a few days.  Just until things die down.”

Closing my eyes, I try to fight off the tightness squeezing my chest at his concern.  Letting out a shaky breath, I tell him, “I promise.”

A silence settles over us and a few minutes later I hear his footsteps retreat.  When I finally pull myself up, I notice a small piece of paper behind where I had been sitting.

812-555-9633  Let me be that friend

I drive my palm into my eyes to relieve the sudden stinging sensation.  I don’t know why I have such ridiculous reactions to his kindness.  I don’t need to have him worrying about me—nobody ever has before—and I’ve made it out just fine.  The paper crumbles in my sudden fist as I slowly drag myself to bed.  Before crawling in to sleep, I make sure to leave the kitchen light on.  Just in case someone decides to visit.

The clock beside my bed reads 12:37 when I wake the next morning, and after warring with myself for twenty minutes I decide to send Jacoby a text.  After last night, I’m sure he’s either camped out in my parking lot, or at his house worried sick that he hasn’t heard from me.

Or maybe not.

I think it’s a bit of wish-fulfillment thinking that this guy could care enough to want to hear from me.  I can’t remember a single time in my life where someone has worried about me.  Letting myself believe that he cares does weird things to my heart.  Weird, foreign things that feel kind of nice.  That rapid heart rate and fluttering in my stomach is something I wouldn’t mind getting used to.

God, when did I turn into such a sap?

just woke up.  wont leave the house today, fyi.

I leave my phone by my bed while I use the bathroom, and his response is waiting for me when I’m finished.  That was quick.

Thanks for letting me know.  I was wondering how late you’d sleep.  He was thinking about me?  A small smile tugs at my lips while I finish reading.  Are you feeling okay?  I still want to talk about what happened yesterday.

Leave it up to the teacher to use proper capitalization and punctuation while texting.  I chew on my lip while I mull over my response.  I don’t want to see him yet, and I definitely don’t want to argue with him again.  There isn’t much more to be said.  I like him.  He might like me.  But he doesn’t want to be with me, and I sort of, maybe want to be with him?  I’m confused.  Blowing out a deep breath, I type back:

Late nite. Im tired.  Thx for asking, Professor. Nothin to talk about.  See u tomorrow.

My phone buzzes again, but I ignore the text.  Instead, I scroll through my log to call Kelsey.

“Hey, how are ya?” She answers cheerily, and I instantly feel better.  Kelsey’s been a constant solid spot in my life since I started working with her, and some of the tension from the past week begins to leak away.

“I’m alright.  Pretty tired.  I didn’t sleep too good last night.”

“I know how that goes.  Still shaken up over Mrs. Marsden?”

“Not really.  I’m feeling okay with her passing.  It was difficult in the moment, but now I’m okay.”  Kelsey is an observant person, but even if she weren’t, it’s not hard to miss the way my voice shakes and cracks on the last word.