On The Run: Part Two

Chapter Twenty-Two - "Jellybeans And Macarons"

“I had a thing,” I said vaguely, avoiding his gaze.

“Are we okay?” he asked, taken aback.

“You and me? Yeah.”

“Really? Cause I feel like you’ve been avoiding me,” he said, peering sternly into my eyes.

I shook my head, “I’m not avoiding you, Trey.”

He sat next to me, “So, we’re good.”

“We are,” I murmured.

Fourteen minutes.

He looked skeptical, “Do you want to do something before I leave on Sunday?”

I smiled, “Sure. Um . . . I have to go,” I said, getting up. There was nothing wrong with punctuality.

His eyes widened for a second as he stared at me in surprise, but he said nothing. I grabbed my bag and made my way to the door, taking the steps two at a time, thankful that I hadn’t let Sarah talk me into wearing those wedge things.

I was supposed to be picked up at exactly four-thirty, but as I knew, Hal was standing outside, with the car down the street. As irritating as their constant presence was, for the first time, I was glad.

“Can we leave now?” I asked.

He simply nodded and grunted in response, leading me to the car. I don’t think I’d ever heard his voice.

As I slipped into the backseat, before Hal could close the door, it was yanked open and Trey slipped in. He sat across from me, his elbows balanced on his knees, fingers entwined beneath his jaw, his expression serious.

I frowned, “Trey?”

“What’s up?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what’s up with you? You’re acting weird. Weirder than normal, anyway.”

“Nothing. I kind of have to be somewhere right now,” I replied.

“I’m not leaving.”

I sighed as he shut the door behind him. I slid the partition down, “Jose,can you take me to Sarah’s office please?”

He eased out of the parking spot, and I slid the partition closed.

“Nothing’s up, Trey,” I said, a little exasperated.

He was quiet for a few minutes, just staring ahead and making me mildly nervous. With Trey, I wasn’t sure what to expect a lot of the time. He looked me in the eyes, his expression mournful, “I miss you, and you being weird, that makes me miss you even more.”

“I’m right here.”

“Not really. I feel like you’re slowly trying to delete me.”

I gasped, “What?”

“Well, what am I supposed to think? You stop answering my calls and when I come visit, you’re never free, even though I know for a fact that you are.”

I shifted and plopped next to him. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . .” Oh, what the hell! “Fitch and I broke up. It’s just been a little weird for me.”

He raised his brows, looking dumbstruck, “Oh.”

I shrugged, “It’s fine; I’ve just been a little distracted.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

I smiled and sunk back lower in the seat, “Thanks. I’m really okay, though.”