Page 14 of Wanna Bet?

Time blurred around the edges.

She forgot about her hair. Forgot about the fight with her dad. Forgot about everything except the way his eyes lit up when he got excited and the way he actually listened when she spoke, like she wasn’t weird or annoying or too much.

Like she was interesting. Which somehow made her talk even more. Stories. Tangents. Facts.

God, why couldn’t she ever just be normal? Eventually it hit her that she’d been standing there for way too long.

“Oh my god,” she said, straightening. “I’m keeping you from work. I’m sorry.”

He glanced around the empty store. “I think we’re good.”

Still, heat crawled up her neck.

She grabbed the random jazz record she’d picked and rushed through checkout, fumbling her card like it had personally betrayed her.

“Thanks,” she said too quickly.

“See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Totally.” Then she practically fled.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Halfway down the block, the spiral started.

Slow at first, then faster and faster until it felt like she couldn’t keep up with her own thoughts.

Why did she say all that? Did he even care? He was probably just being nice.

She’d talked for, like, twenty minutes straight. Who does that?

God, she was so annoying.

Her cheeks burned as she replayed every sentence of her ramble, searching his face in her memory for any hint of boredom. Maybe he’d just been trapped behind the counter, forced to listen. Maybe he’d been waiting for her to leave the whole time. Maybe he thought she was intense. Weird. Too much.

By the time she reached her building, she felt hollow and embarrassed, like she’d accidentally peeled back too many layers of herself in public. She leaned her forehead against the cool metal door for a moment before unlocking it.

Inside, her apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

Her tote slid off her shoulder, the record peeking out from the top. She stared at it, this thing that had been supposed to make her feel better. Instead she just felt exposed. Stupid.

She sank onto the couch and pulled her knees to her chest, phone heavy in her hand. Her thumb hovered over her work chat, over the option to call out tomorrow. Maybe she could say she was sick. Just…not go.

If she didn’t show up, she wouldn’t have to see the look on his face. Wouldn’t have to confirm she’d embarrassed herself.

Pre-rejecting herself felt safer somehow. She hated that her brain did this, turning every nice thing into a threat and every connection into something fragile she could ruin.

After a long moment, she dropped the phone onto the cushion beside her and reached for the record player instead. The vinyl slid out with a soft whisper. She set it down carefully, lowering the needle until it caught.

A gentle crackle filled the room, followed by a warm, rich sound that wrapped around her like a blanket. The music filled the apartment slowly and steadily, and she let it wash over her, letting the noise in her head soften just a little.

Maybe tomorrow wouldn’t be as bad as she thought. Maybe he didn’t hate her. Maybe she hadn’t ruined everything.

She curled deeper into the couch, staring at the record as it spun, still not entirely sure if she’d be brave enough to find out.

Chapter Five

From: Mr. Boss Man