Liar | Jon Matteson x Reader

Chapter 3

A/N: Let me just say immediately that you guys are hecking INSANE. Ten comments in around three days? Jesus, you're too good to me. Anyway, as promised- the next chapter!

I walked up the front stairs of my apartment building, feeling the cool of the concrete seeping through the soles of my shoes. Obviously, I was scared out of my mind. Honestly, how would you react to your best friend (and ONLY that) confessing their crush on you? I think I'd be just as confused as Jon probably is. In my left hand, I'm clutching the copy of The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane, the one from the library. Maybe it was stupid of me to check it out, because I already own a copy, but something told me that maybe, even if this whole half-formed plan I'd worked out in my head didn't work out, that maybe this book would help me again. In my right hand, I'm clutching the doorknob. The misty early morning air has dampened the metal, making it slick. Just like my INSIDES. I swear, I'm so nervous, if I don't do this soon I'm gonna hurl.

I slipped the key in the doorknob and opened the door quickly, sort of like a Band-aid. Better do it sooner than later. I closed the door behind me and walked into the living room. What I saw surprised me and scared me at the same time. Jon was sitting on the couch, and he had a bouquet of flowers and a huge smile. He walked up to me and gave me a huge hug. "(Y/N), I knew you'd be at the library, but you should have at least shot me a text." He grinned, handing you the flowers.

Why's he acting so weird?? You thought, frowning slightly. Nevertheless, you took the flowers with a smile. "Thanks, Jonny! One more thing. Did you forget what I totally didn't say accidentally not more than a couple hours ago?"

"Oh." Jons' face dropped, and he awkwardly pushed up his glasses. "I, uh, thought I imagined it."

You laughed. "Always the imaginative one, no? You joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Heh, yeah." He grinned along with you, chuckling slightly. "Hey, um , now I know that I definitely didn't imagine that, can we talk about what you said...?"

"Actually, that's pretty much why I bothered to show my sorry ass back here in the first place. UH, anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I'm really, really sorry that I sprung that on you...especially with everything going on with Sophie..." You grimaced, holding your hands over your mouth.

"Actually..(Y/N), I needed to tell you...I'm really glad that you told me...but I just don't think that I'm emotionally available to jump into another relationship. But what scares me is...I've felt the same way about you ever since high school. But after I met Sophie, she was so confident and straightforward....and I thought it'd be easier to be in a relationship with her because of that. After awhile...she just didn't make me feel as happy as you do. Whenever I'm with you, I can just forget about the world and laugh with you like we're kids again. And you have no idea how therapeutic that can be, just to pretend, even for a little bit, that we're young and innocent and indestructible. But it just scares me to think that one person could have that much of an effect on me." He started, shrugging and looking sadly down at his feet. "But at the same time...I don't mind that it's you. I wouldn't mind being betrayed by you. Anything to show me that you know I exist. And...not just as friends. I know how corny I sound."

You sighed. "I think I understand. I really do. Don't worry...I wasn't expecting you to be into this sort of thing so soon, anyway.." You looked straight into his eyes, seeing all of the emotions immediately starting to build up. Fear. Love. Happiness. Sadness. Guilt. Regret. The same way my idiot parents looked at each other after they were done giving each other death threats. I could feel my own eyes start to prick at the beginning of tears, but I just wiped them and ran. I ran all the way back to the library, but my stomach sank even more when I saw the big "CLOSED" sign that was hanging over the main window. It felt like...even the books had abandoned me when I needed them. So I went to the park, this time walking more slowly. God, this was such an awful idea. Letting a stupid book influence me, of all things, when if I was in my better judgement I should have realised immediately that this could never work out? I raised the book up to my eye level and glared at it. Staring at that innocent beige book cover with the fancy Italic writing on the cover, a sudden urge took over to toss it over the bridge overlooking the pond and leave. But now, of all times, my better judgement took over. This was a library book, first of all, and I didn't want to burden Jon and I ever more with the fee of deliberately destroying a library book. Second of all, this wasn't the books' fault. Books can't talk, and-

I froze, staring out at the water, where the ducks peacefully mooched off of stale bread crumbs thrown by their adorers. What a fucking peaceful life a duck must lead, I thought to myself. But books can talk. I thought. They might not talk just for you, but that's the beauty of them. They talk for everyone. When they talk, it isn't loud and forceful, but quiet and gentle. With books, you do not have to listen if you want to. And they do not try to sway you one way or another. I sighed and took out a sandwich I had purchased at the deli maybe one or two days ago, then ripped it up and threw it out on the water for the ducks. I know I always seem to read into things that aren't there, and maybe I take things too literally and look into them when I don't need to. So, for now, I'll just let the ducks be ducks. After all, I'm sure they don't want to be roped into some great mystery of human life. As a matter of fact, if I were a duck, I couldn't care less.

Another A/N: Hey! Sorry if this was a crappy chapter. If anything, this felt like more of a filler to the story. Please let me know what you think about the book. Let's get this chapter to seven comments as always, and I'll make the next chapter.

Acronym Key:
(Y/N): Your' name

(A/N): Authors' note