Untimely Love (Book 3)

♠Chapter 40♠

I was gonna split this in two but didn't.

And fuck perfection.

♤♠♤

Days passed and I heard nothing from Jules. Not in the group chat, not from the guys. She didn't call or text. I didn't either but I wasn't the one who was mad so I didn't plan to.

I knew once finals week started I could forget about seeing her for a while. Finals and moving out period was guaranteed time that I wouldn't see most of my friends. And I assumed everyone was going back to PA for the summer while I was positive I'd be staying here for most of it.

Sure enough, that's exactly what happened. The calls and texts became few and far between as we eased into the hardest week of the school year; and even though my friends hadn't moved out yet, I'd already seen a few packed cars on curbs halfway through finals.

I promised myself that I would fix things with Jules because I hated fighting with my friends. Over the summer, I would. For now, I needed to focus. Needed focus.

Focus.

I propped my elbows on top of the table to press the heels of my palms against my eyes. I had one project left, the biggest one, but I hadn't slept much these past few days as I double-checked and got the others completed, so my body was fighting against me.

Today was the first since the night Julia went off on me that I left my apartment. I'd had some serious thinking to do and assignments to finish. It had been going great until I caught myself dozing off at my desk. Being too comfortable at home, I packed my bag of necessities and moved it to the usual café we came to.

I'd almost expected to see them when I got here, but it was the middle of the day when I came in. The place had been flowing with too many bodies for me to even care to check. I'd found a table in the back of the room, away from the study groups and bustling entrance, put my headphones on, and blocked everything out except my computer screen and the voices in my head.

A few hours passed and it stopped working. Being here, my headphones, my work. The voices were much louder and my concentration waning.

Snatching my headphones off, I tossed them on the table and slumped against the chair. Throwing my head back, I closed my eyes and held my breath. I forced my mind to go blank, even if only for a few seconds. Whenever words and images started bleeding into the black, I forced them out, took a few breaths and held it for as long as I could.

I did this for a while. I wasn't sure how long, but I knew it was more than a few minutes when my limbs felt like they were nonexistent.

A distant sound broke through my process. It was close but far at the same time. I ignored it.

"Hey," a timid voice said. "Chris? Right?"

My eyes hardly opened. I stared through slitted eyelids at the cream-colored ceiling, forcing feeling and movement back into my body although I didn't want to. I shifted my gaze to the person nearly standing over me.

It took a second for me to remember where I'd seen her before. Her hair was pulled up into a slick bun, gold jewelry, and dramatic make-up; I almost didn't recognize her before I did. The waitress from Da Andrea a few weeks ago.

It's only when I recalled it that I hummed in response. I spent the rest of my energy wondering how she knew my name and why she looked like she was seconds away from sprinting in the opposite direction.

"Abigail," she reintroduced herself. She fidgeted, her eyes moving from me to the ground then wandering aimlessly around the space. She didn't say anything. I didn't feel like I could talk at the moment so I didn't either.