If she’s ghosted me, that’s going to be a tough pill to swallow, but nothing will compare to the feeling of her not being okay.
That’s something I can’t stomach, or even really entertain the thought for long, because it literally makes me sick.
I turn and start to pull the tool belt off, determined to make sure she’s okay. I’m stopped short by the most beautiful voice I think I’ve ever heard.
“Leaving so soon? I just got here.”
My head snaps up to see Millie standing in the half-finished doorway, a tool belt of her own hanging from her fingertips.
“Oh, thank fuck.” The relief in my voice has the smile on her face slowly fading.
“What’s wrong?”
I swallow thickly, my relief palpable. I feel stuck to the floor, my feet unmoving though I want to go and scoop her up, breathe in her unique scent, feel her skin beneath my fingers. I want to make sure she’s okay, that she’s not sick, that she’s healthy and really standing in front of me.
But I don’t do any of that. I stand frozen, staring at the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, wishing more than anything that I could kiss her.
She tilts her head, watching me. “Rowan?”
I finally blink, scared that her standing in the doorway was just an illusion and if I blinked she would be gone. “Yes?”
She giggles before coming further into the room and right up to me. She reaches forward, her petite and elegant hand touches my forehead. “No fever, so you must not be sick.”
When I don’t say anything, her hand travels down my cheek and across my mouth. I want to dart my tongue out to taste her, but by some miracle refrain. “Have you gone mute on me?” Her eyes are alight with amusement. The corner of her mouth perks up with a smirk.
“You’re here.”
“Ah, he speaks.” Her hand finally leaves me. I miss the contact instantly, so I reach for her, and when my hand makes contact with hers, she smiles.
“Seriously, Rowan. You’re weirding me out. What’s up?” She gives my hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go and stepping back. My heart pings at the distance she puts between us.
“I was worried,” I finally answer.
“Worried?” The smile drops off her face, and she takes another step back, consciously putting distance between us this time.
“I thought I really fucked up this time.”
“What?” she asks on a breathless chuckle.
“Maybe you changed your mind and didn’t want to be friends anymore?”
She’s already shaking her head. “What are you talking about? I know I’m late, but I had something I had to do beforehand—”
She trails off as she watches my face. She must see the relief coursing through every inch of my body.She doesn’t hate me.
“Rowan, I promise I’m not avoiding you. I just had to do something first.”
“What about all the texts? I called—” Now it’s my turn to trail off. I feel like such a pussy, but I want so badly to understand what’s going on in that head of hers that I don’t care what it makes me look like.
Her eyebrows pinch together. “You called?”
I shift my feet and cross my arms, feeling more vulnerable than I have in a long time. “Couple times.”
Her hand goes into her pocket and she pulls her phone out. She immediately starts shaking her head, “There’s nothing here.” She turns the phone around to face me. I have to lean down and forward a little to get a clear view. And she’s right. Not one freaking missed call.
Now I feel like I’m going crazy. I know I called her. It’s my turn to pull my phone out, and I go to my call history just like she did. Right there. Five separate calls between our salsa dance lesson and this morning.
Desperate much?
