That man who had me kicking myself in the head every time I remember how I didn't say or do a thing as I watched him walk away—
I don't care if I'm being silly or stupid. I don't care if this is right or wrong. And I don't care—well, okay, I kinda sorta slightly carethat he's with a woman so beautiful she makes me feel I'm less than human.
Yes, I care about that.
But not enough to stop me—
Oh, finally.
I burst into the parking garage corridor just as the guest elevator chimes, the doors open, and we come face to face. Again.
His jaw clenches as our gazes meet, and I tell myself that's a good thing even as my heart flinches because it believes otherwise. You have to be really flexible in situations like this. Sometimes, you let your heart rule. Other times, you let your brain take over. To deceive yourself intostillthinking this...
This is okay even though the way his lips tighten tells me that a part of him hadexpectedthis.
Bracedfor it even.
And that same part of him had nonetheless hoped it wouldn't be so.
Oh, the gall of him.
I should be pissed and offended, with how he's treating another encounter with me like it's a virus to be avoided. But I can't muster the energy to feel upset because what's killing me even more is how I'm still choosing to be foolish.
Because I'm still blocking their path, my heel in one hand, hair in sweaty disarray, while every composed piece of me has been unassembled in the last five flights of stairs.
I open my mouth, but he deliberately beats me to speaking.
“Sara, isn't it?”
Is he trying to intimidate me? Infuriate me? Shame me?
His beautiful Francine, on the other hand...
She has no trouble feeling infuriated as she looks at me. “You know this girl?”
Nate doesn't even look at her. “Please go ahead and wait in the car for me.”
“I can wait—”
Big mistake.
No one actually says this, but we can all see the invisible writing on the wall, the moment his gaze slides to her direction, and the words die in her throat.
I have no idea how freaky their relationship is, but it's clearly the kind where Nate does the ordering, Francine does the bidding, and that's why all she can do now is shoot me a vicious look before stalking off like a bully that's been shamed by a bigger bully.
Not that I'm saying either or both of them are bullies. I'm not. It just...it just looks that way, and oh no, here we go, he's turning to look at me now, and he's still beautiful like I remembered, but so much more terrifying than I remembered.
We stare at each other, and I think...I think he's giving me a chance to forget that this happened. To just turn my back and walk away, and he'll do the same. But instead—
“My name's Juniper.”
I'm still choosing to be silly and foolish.
“Is it?” His voice has changed, the words drawled out lazily this time. Softly and mockingly, too. “Does that make you Sara Juniper then or—”
“It's neither and you know it.”
I'm not going to play this game with him.