TMI (2014 Collector's Dream Winner)

TMI - Chapter 5

Meg sat at the ticket counter gleaming brightly under the harsh lights. She'd cleaned it about six times so far. And refilled the machines with paper. And reorganized the gift card supply. And even brought her homework to do during her break. She stared out the window, her fingers itching for a paint brush, a sketch book, something — anything that would occupy her mind for more than a minute.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Losing her cool over a stupid picture — in front of Chase. She shut her eyes and groaned. He'd looked at her with horror. But he hadn't run. He never judged. Well, okay, he was shocked, but still — the only thing she saw in those potent eyes was worry and that made her feel kind of warm and fuzzy. She scrubbed at another spot on the counter and felt sick. He shouldn't worry about her. She shouldn't like that he did. They weren't dating. They weren't even friends — at least, not like she and Bailey. How had this happened? Despite all her efforts, despite The Plan, Chase was sneaking under her carefully drawn lines and damn it — she wanted more.

The research project they'd been partnered up on last semester had been a lesson in more ways than one. She wasn't sure how it happened. They'd visited the Museum of Modern Art on their own; Bailey had some family commitment and couldn't make it. Chase wasn't the least bit saddened by that news. He'd bought her train ticket, pulled her out of the path of a taxi that jumped the light, and let her push him from floor to floor to stare at exhibits. At some point during all that, the echoes of her dad's voice died away. She never protested when he dragged her to Rockefeller Center, pointed to a spot and said, "This is where the tree goes every year. Close your eyes and imagine it's Christmas." She did and he kissed her and it was like all the colors in the world exploded.

They'd had a great day and finished all the research they'd had to do. On the train ride home, she'd even let Chase make plans — movies, the school dance. He even said something about taking her to his prom. They 'worked' for hours after they got home, talking, laughing, sharing, and eventually, typing up their paper. Long after the sky darkened, Chase stood up and said he was on a food run, came back and served her.

Her cold little heart thawed, then melted for him, then re-froze when they'd gotten their grades.

A C.

She'd never gotten such a low grade before. She hadn't really talked to him about it. She'd just... stayed away. It hurt. But it got easier every day. She was over it. Mostly.

The next movie would start in less than an hour; she would soon be busy again. She tossed the rag on the shelf under the counter and looked out through the glass doors and — Bam! Her gaze locked on him like a guided missile. Her belly did that slow roll it always did when she saw him and she knew she had that stupid smile on her face.

And then he grabbed Bailey in a hug.

The earth tilted on its axis. Her stomach pitched. Her smile burned — oh, how it burned. Her fingers curled with the need to tear Bailey's highlighted curls out by their roots. When she found herself at the door with no memory of giving her legs the command to walk, she forced air into her paralyzed lungs.

In.

Out.

Damn it. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She'd taken every precaution — stayed distant, apart, aloof. It wasn't supposed to hurt. It wasn't supposed to matter.

No. Fight it. She forced herself to see through the green mist of jealousy. Green Envy, she'd call this color, if she were painting this scene. Or maybe Jade Avarice. Calmer, she recited her list of reasons. She had to focus on school. She had to graduate. She had to find scholarship money and get a degree. It didn't matter what field. Any degree. Something that would help her find a good job. A job with benefits. A future. The Future. Her future. She had to be able to take care of herself. She'd promised her dad she would not waver. This hurt would stop soon as long as she was smart and stayed on course.

The other hurt never would.