After the incident with Pamela, things at school have been different. Somewhat.
She hasn't shown up at school since that Tuesday, and it's all everyone has been waiting for, I can see that. She's all they've been talking about, all day everyday. Well except Victoria. Of course.
At first I was scared she was going to bring it up during our project session at my house yesterday, adding a mean comment here and there keeping me in a dilemma of shutting it down in respect to our once-upon-a-time friendship, or actually join in, but...
Victoria really doesn't hate Pamela. She just could care less.
Rather the only thing we discussed other than school work, was Nathan.
My eyebrows went up when she tried oh so very hard to ask about his whereabouts whilst still acting like she wasn't exactly interested to find out.
"How's your friend, uh Nathan, is it? Don't think I've seen him at school lately."
I felt like teasing her about it, but then I thought better. Our friendship isn't like that. Coupled with the fact the reason Nathan and I aren't even close anymore is because one of us caught feelings. It'd be hypocritical to give her false hope.
"Yeah, I don't think I've seen him around either."
"But he's your friend." She pressed. Right.
She gave me a pen, clarifying she'd borrowed it from Nate more than a week ago, so I offered to return it. It's why she gave me anyway, I know that. It's to go visit him and find out if everything's okay 'cause I bet her heart's a lot worried.
So Tyler drops me off at Nathan's instead of home. He did get a bit... angsty when I told him to— which of course, caused butterflies— but I let him know it was for a friend. And I might have indicated there's something going on between then in order to calm his mind completely.
"Sorry, do you live here?" A petite lady with her hair in a tight ponytail asks. Ask me, I later realize.
"No, I don't. I came to visit someone." I tell her. She's a new worker here, the sparkly navy uniform plus the fact that she's questioning my presence lets me know. Every other worker would just allow me in. They all know who I come here for.
"Okay, Could I get your name please?"
I blink at her. As if that should change a thing.
Realizing it won't, I nod and walk over to the receptionist counter she's at, leaning on it as I watch her go through the computer for the name I still haven't given.
"Name?"
"Melissa. Melissa Martinez."
After an agonizing ten minutes of being treated like a guest, she lets me go up the elevator. As the door slides close, I feel like hitting them. I don't know why.
No, I do. This is the first time my visit has ever been questioned in the past three years after the first initial time before Nathan made sure to add my name as family on their guest list.
And this is the first time I've come over since he suggested we stopped being friends. I know it's a coincidence, the lady's just new plus when she checked, my name still showed up as family. But I swear that it feels so symbolic. And there's this tight feeling in my chest from it.
The elevator does a ding sound, but I have to wait for the doors to automatically open before leaving. It always takes a while.
Their hallway is still quiet, the flowers still inorganic, that sofa nobody seems to ever use is still there by the far end of the wall. Everything's the same. At least some things haven't changed.
As I'm about placing a knock on his apartment door though, I hear muffled voices inside. Some things really don't change. I just had to come at a wrong time. It's probably him and his mom again.
And to think I came here all to return a pen. I mean, I didn't but that's the reason I planned to give since things between us aren't fine anymore but really? Hi, I just came to return this pen you lent someone else. Really, Melissa?
I honestly didn't think this through. Dammit, what do I do?
"I've told you to leave, Samuel. Leave us alone, please. What more do you want?"
"I want to meet him." That's not Nathan's voice.
No that's not his voice but I know it. That's—
"And I will." The voice finishes, then the door opens.
Melissa Anica Martinez how many more situations like these will you put yourself in?
Tyler's dad comes face to face with me.
Or not face to face, since he's about six foot or above. So it's more like face to chest, but my eyes go up to meet his. Before coming back down to see Nathan's mother's wide ones as she stands behind him.
"Melissa—"
"I.. I just—"
"Nathan's not home."
"Yeah! Yeah, I figured." Why did I say that? I figured? God, Melissa were you eavesdropping??
You were but did you have to make it that obvious?
Miss Martin looks beyond frazzled. To say the least. She's in a black lacy dress, her skin just as tan but it's the hair. And eyes. Her hair is everywhere and her eyes as well, darting between Tyler's dad, me then the empty hallway. I know something's up. What it is? Well, that I don't know. One thing is it's none of my business. I just need to get the yell out of here before I say something more embarrassing.
Though I won't lie it's not a bit weird. Especially with the fact Tyler's dad is now involved in this whole... mix. And he's probably the one I overheard talking to miss Martins the other day too.
"You could wait. For him." She offers, still looking shaken. "He only stepped out a while ago,"
"No, I think I'd rather go."
"Let me give you a ride then, Princess." Tyler's dad comes in, offering, but I'm quick to shut it down.
"I came with a driver." Shut it down with a lie. "But thank you."
"It's no problem," he waves it off before turning to miss Martins again, "see you, Elizabeth."
She visibly freezes up.
Though we get into the elevator together— which is of course, the most awkward situation I've ever put myself in and will forever chastise myself for not waiting behind a little longer—
Well, although that happened, I wait back for him to leave first. I'm glad he does, not trying to be friendly or too close. It's about the only good impression I have of him.
I stay watching his back as he saunters through the lobby looking too expensive to be in here. I used to wonder if I did too, three years ago. But if I ever did or do, I probably show up as the rich daddy's girl from old money. While Tyler's dad looks like the actual daddy with old money, dressed in his usual suit with a price tag that could most likely buy this building.
"Melissa, what are you doing here?" I jolt out of my thoughts, only to find the one and only Nathan. His hair's overgrown again, almost covering his eyes and his thick eyebrows are stitched together in confusion.
Wait, he asked a question, what am I doing here.
What am I doing here?
"Pen." I state. Then blink and hold it up. "I was sent to return the pen you gave—"
"Really, Melissa?" He scoffs, clearly not buying it already. I sigh.
"I also came to say hi. But I get if—"
"Look, Mel. I'm sorry. It was really shitty asking us we stop being friends—"
"No, it's not. I understand." I say, but then... he doesn't counter that. He's supposed to! He's supposed to suggest we go back to being friends. I might be an introvert but it sucks not having a single person to lean on. Victoria's... distant. And Tyler,
I'm still trying to wrap my mind around him. Besides having an enormous crush on him, and anyway getting some sort of reciprocity from him.. I still don't know what we are.
We aren't friends. That's one thing. And I miss having a friend.
"I'm sorry." His voice breaks when he says it. Double confirmation things are staying the same between us. It's selfish, very selfish, but I hate it. I hate the realization.
Ignoring the tight feeling in my chest, I nod towards Tyler's dad who surprisingly hasn't left yet. He's by the coffee machine being attended to by the same lady from earlier, she seems to be infatuated by the few seconds of his time he's sharing with her.
I'm also surprised he'd take coffee from here. I nod towards him.
Nathan's eyes follow my nod, before turning to me with question in his blue eyes.
"Do you know him?"
"No." He answers, brows coming in to knit again like they always do when he's confused. "Why?"
I study him to see if the confusion is genuine, and after finding out it is, I ponder on if it's right or wrong to tell him what I know.
I finally decide it's neither right or wrong. It's, however, not my position. "Just wondering."