Maybe she won’t run.
Maybe she’ll stay.
Then her chin wobbles.Her eyes shine with unshed tears.
And I know.
Shit.She’s gonna bolt.
I should’ve planned for it.Should’ve known better than to think she’d stay and let me bare my fucking soul in front of an entire room of her extended family.
But I was desperate.I thought—hoped—that maybe, just maybe, she’d hear the song and understand.That it would be enough to crack open whatever this is between us.
Stupid.
I see her shoulders tighten.See her shift on her feet.And then—she turns around and runs.
I drop my guitar onto the stand so fast the strings vibrate in protest.“Shit,” I mutter, already moving.
I push through the crowd, ignoring the whispers—the way Mina reaches out for me as I rush past.
Someone murmurs,Are they together?and I hear Ethan’s baffled, “What?Of course not?—”
None of it matters.
Annamatters.
I lose sight of her for half a second, and my stomach clenches.
Not again.
I push forward, shoving past shoulders, ignoring the startled looks.The need to reach her is animalistic—instinctual.
I get into the hallway just in time to see her disappear around the corner, and I sprint.My legs are on fire and my heart is pounding in my ears.
By the time I reach her, she’s at the end of the corridor, staring at the closed security gate blocking off the university’s main wing for the weekend.
End of the line.
Her breath is shallow, like she’s trying to pull herself together.
I slow my steps, but my voice is firm.“You weren’t supposed to run.”
She flinches, then straightens, whirling on me like a goddamn storm.
Good.Let her rage.I’m not leaving.
“What the hell was that, Joel?”Her voice is sharp, slicing through the air between us.“Was that supposed to be—what?A grand apology?A manipulation?That was mywhole familyin there.You think you can just sing some song and?—”
“No,” I cut in, quiet but certain.“I just wanted to tell you the truth.”
She scoffs.“Oh, great.Because you’ve always been so good at that.”
She wants me to bite.She wants me to fight her, to snap back, to play the game we’ve been playing since we were teenagers.
I don’t.
I step forward, slow and sure, closing the space between us.Not enough to crowd her.Just enough that she feels it.