sixty

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i don't speak to ethan for two weeks. 

for obvious reasons. 

i ignore him when i see him around the apartment building, i ignore him at work, and i ignore him when we meet in his apartment along with the rest to discuss wolfe enterprise.
i always feel his eyes on me, though; hazel irises that bore straight into me. 

it was too soon. too soon for me to tell him. i should have know he wouldn't change for me, how could he? i'm no violet. 

i don't know what to feel. i love him, i know that much. even if he did laugh in my face, i do love him. he has done so much for me over these past months, yet at the same time he's brought a whole world full of secrets and deception that i've never even dreamed of.

i know if ethan wasn't so hidden, he would perhaps love me back. 

i feel like there's this gaping hole inside of me, this crater in my heart. it's almost as if when aaron and i broke up, ethan filled the empty gap in my soul with his cheeky grins and sarcastic remarks. he soothed my fear of being left alone, and we were alone together. but now, we are both truly by ourselves, because at this point, we don't even have each other. 

at work, i throw myself into my editing, sometimes getting up to three manuscripts done a day. mr. greenman has praised me highly, and so has mr. crystal. ethan always watches me from his desk, tossing his stupid rubber band ball from hand to hand, spinning in his chair. i do my best to ignore him every day, but it proves difficult when i'm utterly infatuated with the hazel in his eyes. 

sometimes, when i step out of the elevator in the lobby of crystal, i look up and see a single figure sitting on the skylight above. i don't have to look long to know it's ethan.

i also notice that he's been writing. 

it's in this torn, leather-bound journal that i catch him scribbling in. i always see him writing at random times, too — at lunch break, when he sits quietly next to zeke while perla, zeke and i chat. he always sips coffee as he does so, his hand flying across the page. 

i'd give anything to know what he's writing about. 

in a nutshell, my life without ethan is colorless. i had never noticed before that i had been missing something in my life, something beautiful. i've never smiled or laughed as much as i had when i was around ethan. 

ethan made me happy, by just being his annoying, sarcastic self, and he didn't even know it. 

one wednesday at lunch break, ethan gets up to use the restroom, leaving his leather journal behind.

jesy and perla chat about some concert they're going to next weekend, but my eyes are glued to the journal. 

don't do it, emma. you know you'll get in trouble with him. besides, you're not even on speaking terms. 

zeke eyes we from beside perla. "something wrong, emma?" he asks me as the other two talk.

"do you know what he writes in there?" i ask, not moving my gaze from the tattered book. 

"in the book?" zeke looks over at it, shrugging. "no clue. why?" 

"just... curious." 

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