The Mechanic

-Chapter Seventeen-

My logic needs work.

She scoots her feet closer to her side of the table when I sit down. "What are you doing here today?"

I shrug. "Out of food at the shop. Didn't feel like going over to the store."

She nods. "Didn't feel like seeing me, you mean?"

"It's not easy," I say, meeting her gaze. She doesn't seem to mind.

"No, it's fine. I don't mind, really. It's about time you gave up."

The girl from the counter rings a bell. "Your orders are done."

I get up and grab them, continuing our conversation when I get back.

"Why should I give up?" I ask, handing her her shake.

She takes a small sip. "Because it's pointless, mostly."

I shrug, unfolding my burger out of its wrapper. I set half on a napkin and push it across the table to her.

"It's only pointless if I don't think it has a point. As it is, I want to be your friend. You're special to me. And I don't really care that you don't love me back. I'm getting past that. But I still want to be friends."

"You're holding onto the past," she says, taking a bite of the half of a burger that I handed her. "It isn't healthy, you know. Denial is bad for people."

"It won't hurt me," I reply, not looking at her. But then she puts her hand on my arm, and I have to.

Her eyes are full of aching solemnity. "Please, Mechanic, let me go."

"Femi," I whisper, not wanting to listen. My desire not to hear her words doesn't erase them from my mind.

She shakes her head, gaze still stuck with mine. Her hand is warm against my forearm. "No, Paris."

Femi. Love me.

No.

I look away, taking a deep breath. Her hand leaves my arm, and instead comes to rest on the side of my face.

When I look back, there are tears brimming in her eyes. They try to coax the tears out of my eyes, too, but I trap them, squeezing my eyelids shut.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, voice breaking. "I've been trying so hard. I have been, I promise. It just isn't working, Mechanic. I can't do it."

I open my eyes just for a moment. "It's okay," I say softly, and her hand leaves my face.

Instead of comforting me, she now attempts to comfort herself. She buries her face in her hands, sobs wracking her shoulders. "I'm so sorry, it's just, I can't." She slumps forward on the table, red hair going everywhere.

"It's okay," I reply. There are tears slipping down my face, and I'm just now noticing them. When did they start?

After a moment of feeling entirely helpless, I cross over to her side of the booth and gather her into my arms.

"It's okay, it's okay. I love you. My girl, this is why it isn't pointless. Who's going to love you if I don't? Who's going to hold you while you cry?"

She doesn't say anything, sobbing limply into my shoulder.

"Shh... Ah, my girl. You're going to be okay. It's all going to be okay. I'm an adult, I can handle my heart. You aren't hurting me so much that I can't handle it."

She grabs a handful of my shirt, taking a deep, gasping breath.

"I'll survive," I whisper.

She pulls away after a few more minutes, eyes puffy. "I still don't understand," she hiccups, "how you can stand to live like this."