He turns his head away from me and focuses straight forward. I notice his clenched jaw, but I stay quiet, waiting for some kind of response. Keeping his eyes ahead, he says, “I really liked you, you know?”
“I’m sorry.”
He surprises me when he reveals, “I still really like you.”
My heart thuds hard in my chest when he tells me this. He still doesn’t look at me, but I decide to return his honesty and tell him, “I flew home and told my parents last weekend. I never told them before because I was afraid of what that meant for me.”
He looks at me when I say this and takes a moment before responding. “You don’t have to explain. I’ve been there. I felt the same way.”
I nod my head and finally realize that if only I would have been honest with him, he possibly could have really helped me. Maybe he still can.
“What did they say?” he asks.
Shaking my head, I turn to look away from him when I say, “It’s over. They threw me out, told me not to come back or call.” When I turn to look back at him, the look in his eyes is of disbelief. “I wasn’t completely surprised. I knew that would most likely be their reaction.”
“Then why?”
“I hoped it would help me come to terms with all of this.”
“Did it?”
“Honestly . . . I don’t know, but at least I’m able to tell you everything I was too scared to say before.”
We stand there without speaking when the mist turns into thicker sprinkles, but we don’t move. I wish I knew what he was thinking. I’m feeling anxious and extremely exposed right now. But he gives me a little hope when he turns to face me and asks, “So what do you want now?”
“I know I don’t have any right to ask you to forgive me, but I feel like absolute shit for what I did, and I’m so sorry.” I swallow hard when I admit, “I really like you, Mark. I just want a chance to show you that I’m not an ass**le.”
“I know you’re not an ass, but you really let me down. I’m not sure I can trust you.”
“Let me show you that you can,” I say, and I know with those words that I can’t let my fears get in the way again. I need to face this. I need to learn to be okay with myself.
When I see him nod his head, I can’t fight my smile. I want to kiss him. God, I want to kiss him so bad, but I don’t. I just wrap my arms around him and pull him in for a hug. When I feel his arms band around me, I say once again, “I’m so f**kin’ sorry.”
“No more apologies. Let’s just start over.”
He leans back slightly, and I don’t take what I want to take. I want him to know that I want something more than just that. So, I simply leave it with, “Coffee? Tomorrow?”
He smiles and responds, “Sounds good. I’ll call you when I wake up.”
I nod my head and take a step back when Mark opens his door and hops in the driver’s seat. Before he closes the door, he says, “Jase . . . thanks for being honest with me.”
“Thanks for giving me the chance.”
Chapter eight
Mark called this morning like he said he would. I suggested we meet at Peet’s on the ground floor of my apartment building. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still anxious about all of this, but the feeling of not wanting to walk away from Mark is stronger than my fear of defining who I am to myself.
I shrug on a t-shirt and grab my keys before making my way to the elevator. I arrive before he does, so I go ahead and get a coffee before finding a seat by the window to wait for him. It’s raining pretty hard today, and I watch as it falls from the dark sky.
I pull my phone out and shoot Candace a text. I really need to talk to her about everything that’s been going on.
Can I see you later?
I sit for a while and drink my coffee before my phone buzzes with her response.
Yeah, I’ll be home.
Okay, I’ll text you in a bit. Love you.
“Hey, man,” I hear Mark say, and I shove my phone in my pocket as I stand up to give him a hug. I’ll take all the touches I can from this guy.
Seeing his coffee already in hand, we sit down and he says, “How’s it going?”
“Good. You?” I ask as he nods his head and leans forward, resting his elbows on the table.
“I was thinking about what you said last night. About your parents and all.”
I shake my head. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Are they all the family you have?”
“Yeah, but we haven’t been close for a long time. It’s not like we really ever spoke.”
He takes a long sip of his drink and sets his cup down. “So what are you gonna do?”
“There’s nothing I can do. It’s done with. They were pretty final with what they said. I know them well enough to know when they shut down, they don’t open back up.”
He shakes his head, and I know this bothers him. So I assure him, “I’m not alone, if that’s what you’re wondering. I have a really close friend that I’ve always considered my family.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Actually, I should probably talk to you about her.” I need to explain our relationship to him because I know it isn’t typical. He needs to know how we are, and I need to know if this bothers him.
“Okay? You’re making me nervous,” he says with a chuckle.
“No, it’s nothing crazy, we just have a strong relationship, and I want you to understand that it’s nothing beyond friends.”