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I glanced at the clock, its hands steadily moving, marking the passage of time. The soft ticking echoed in the quiet room, a constant reminder of the hours slipping away. The realization hit me like a sudden wave – the day was slipping away, and I had accomplished nothing other than getting lost in my own thoughts.
Determined to break free from the confines of my apartment, I stood up with a sense of urgency. The air inside the apartment felt stagnant. I needed a change, a breath of fresh air to dispel the lingering frustration that clung to me. In a swift motion, I grabbed my jacket from the hook near the door. The fabric felt cool against my fingertips as I hastily slipped it on.
The shower had freshened me up, I caught my reflection in the steam-kissed mirror, and the person looking back seemed lighter, refreshed. The weight that had settled on my shoulders before the shower had lifted, replaced by a subtle energy that hinted at a newfound resilience. I didn't feel as gross and clouded minded, but my thoughts did eventually continue spinning with comebacks and retorts I should have unleashed on Riley. Listen, there was frustration and anger bubbled inside me, demanding release and that was the only way I could think of. I needed a distraction, something to take my thoughts away from that condescending jerk.
The ding of the elevator brought me back to the present moment, and I ventured into the common communal area of the building. The transition from the hushed solitude of my apartment to the shared space felt like stepping into a different world. The hallway echoed with muted sounds of distant conversations and the faint hum of everyday life.
I decided to redirect my focus to the mailroom, a feeble attempt to divert my attention from the persistent thoughts of the lingering stings of Riley's words.I couldn't let him consume my thoughts any longer.
Entering the mailroom, I found myself in the midst of a quiet hum of activity. Other residents, lost in their own worlds, shuffled around, each engrossed in the ritual of collecting their mail. The atmosphere was a blend of routine and heavy with the anticipation of shared stories and gossip exchanged through the tiny mail slots.
I rolled my eyes at the thought, realizing how trivial it all seemed in the grand scheme of things. Yet, in that moment, the triviality was a welcome reprieve. I needed the simplicity of everyday tasks to ground me.
With a sense of detachment, the act of reaching for my mailbox became a deliberate motion, a conscious effort to immerse myself in the tangible world of envelopes and parcels. I shuffled through the stack of envelopes containing nothing more than bills and junk mail, desperate for anything to anchor my attention.
Then, as if emerging from the background noise, I became aware of a subtle shift in the room. The scent of a familiar cologne wafted through the air, catching my attention. At first, I dismissed it as a figment of my imagination, a byproduct of an overactive mind seeking connections where there were none.
However, my suspicions were soon confirmed as I noticed a tall figure near the opposite end of the mailboxes walking towards me. The back of his head, crowned with a tousle of brown hair, was unmistakable – it was Harry. Before he could realize I shot my head back down, pretending to be immersed into the boring envelopes.
My eyes stayed fixated on rereading my address written on the mail as if it was so interesting, requiring my full attention. I knew I couldn't avoid him for long since his mailbox was right by mine, but I thought I had more time before I would have to interact with Harry. Fate seemed determined to test my composure as his unmistakable cross tattoo came in view.
I knew I was fucked.
My heart sank, not ready to confront Harry and what he might say about last night. Awkwardness hung in the air like a heavy cloud, and I struggled to maintain a nonchalant facade.
"Hey, Evelia," Harry quipped, his voice filled with a lightheartedness that I couldn't seem to match. He seemed unaffected by the events of last night, but it made sense; he probably forgot or didn't think it was even significant enough to remember, I definitely have been overthinking everything. "Always just bills in here" he sighed, shuffling through his own stack of mail.
I offered a forced smile, my attempt at nonchalance failing miserably. "Hey, Harry," I responded, my voice slightly shaky. Desperately trying to hide the internal turmoil that churns within me. "Oh, absolutely. Just can't get enough of those exciting envelopes," I replied, my effort at casualness falling flat.
I couldn't help but feel like I was walking on a tightrope, trying to maintain a facade of normalcy while my emotions threatened to spill over. Harry's obliviousness to my inner turmoil only amplified my self-consciousness.
My internal monologue ran wild, questioning if Harry remembered our vulnerability, if he thought less of me now, or if he simply didn't care. I struggled to find my footing, feeling out of place in his presence, unable to shake off the self-consciousness that clung to me like a suffocating cloak.
As if sensing my mental battle, I caught a brief look in Harry's eye. It was a fleeting moment, a subtle shift in his gaze that betrayed a hint of uncertainty. The green iris held a reflection of my own internal struggle mirrored back at me.
The atmosphere in the mailroom, once charged with a casual ease, now became charged with a palpable tension that weaved between us. Our eyes met, and in that shared gaze, in silent understanding. It was as if we were both grappling with the aftermath of the events that had unfolded the night before, unsure of how to navigate the uncharted territory that lay ahead. I could feel his eyes on me, analyzing my every move, and I became acutely aware of my own nervous fidgeting.
"So, uh, how's your day going?" Harry asked, his words breaking the uneasy silence.
I laughed nervously, my mind racing to come up with a suitable response. "Oh, you know, just another thrilling day of adulting," I replied, injecting a touch of sarcasm into my voice. What the hell, could I sound any stupider?
Harry chuckled, a genuine smile gracing his lips. "Tell me about it. Sometimes I wonder why we ever grew up in the first place."
We relished a moment of shared understanding, a reminder that we were both just navigating the complexities of adulthood. It was a relief to know that I was not alone in this overwhelming journey.
As we exchanged small talk, I couldn't help but notice the lingering glances we stole at each other. We were both aware of the friendly dynamic we displayed last night, and now, it felt like we were tiptoeing around the unspoken connection that lingered between us.
A moment of silence prompted me to withdraw from the conversation and the mailroom.
"So, how about we switch things up a bit?" Harry suggested, a playful glint in his eyes as he broke me out of my daze and back into the conversation.
Caught off guard by the suggestion, I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in curiosity. "Switch things up? What do you have in mind?" I inquired.
"Well, my practice ends the same time we're supposed to meet up" he begins, fingers playing with his lip as he speaks. "And there's a cafe close by, so we could go there." Before I could respond, his eyes lit up with unspoken excitement before adding, "I'll even get you a muffin!"
His reasoning unfolded – an important practice coming up, the convenience of the location. I noticed his attempts to rid the awkwardness that hung around us earlier.
"Sure, the cafe near the football field works for me," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant, since the way Harry's hands moved as he spoke seemed to spark a swirl of emotions inside me.
Why are you unnecessarily confusing me more than I already am? It's just hands. Hands that gripped my skin that I can't seem to shake off. STOP! I shut off my mind, zoning back into our conversation before my mind led me down that dangerous path.
Harry's face lit up with a smile, seemingly unfazed by the uneasiness that had plagued me since our encounter at the mailboxes. "Great! It's a cozy spot, and we can grab a coffee while we study. It'll be a refreshing change of scenery," he suggested, his enthusiasm contagious.
Was he simply better at masking his true feelings? Regardless, I decided to go along with his suggestion, hoping that the change of location would bring back a sense of normalcy to our interactions.
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a/n: okay but his hand like WHAT IS ABOUT THEM THAT GOT ME FEELING A CERTAIN WAY!! anyone else? no just me. okay.