I have never run out of Haider's house that fast in all my life. I'm pretty sure everybody noticed it too, I was not subtle and honestly I did not care. All I knew was that Dastan had said he'd wanted to talk to me later and I was not planning on sticking around for that conversation given how I'd so stupidly laid my feelings bare in his room and all I could see in his eyes was regret and guilt. I might not know much but I do know what rejection looks like and I do not need to hear him say that he wants nothing to do with me. So, I ran.
Emma had called me after if gotten home and laughed herself silly for a good minute because she couldn't get over how comical it had all turned out. Supposedly, she'd only figured out that Connor and Theo were interested in each other when we'd gone to Connors apartment to apologize which, I guess, makes sense but that still doesn't answer the question of how long it's been going on. She'd had a good long laugh about how Dastan and I had been caught like two teenagers. Although, I hadn't told her about what was actually said while we were in his bedroom, that felt too personal even if I was just sharing it with Emma. I don't know when I'd started feeling like I needed to hide my feelings for Dastan from her but I know I probably have a good reason.
When did my life turn into one dramatic scene after the next. You know, I went three years without once being the center of attention and then suddenly I'm everyone's favorite topic of conversation. It's ridiculous. I settle myself on the couch preparing to watch reruns of Friends and eat way too many potato chips because my nerves are frazzled after the evening I've had. All I want is to lay on the couch and stare at my TV with no aim or purpose until I fall asleep but that doesn't look like it's likely to happen. For the next two hours I stare at the TV while thinking about Dastan and what happened this afternoon. I can't stop, no matter how many times I tell myself to just stop thinking about it. It plays on a constant loop on my head, showing me all the things I could've done differently, all the things I should've said instead of 'I don't get a second chance,' like some pathetic, love struck little girl.
The sound of knocking saves me from my internal meltdown, groaning I push myself off the couch and head to the door. At this part of the night it could only be Emma but she usually never knocks, she has her own key. Without really giving it much thought I swing the door open, and then freeze. It takes about half a second for me to register that Dastan is standing in front of my apartment, hear wet from the rain, water dipping from the sabel strands that fall across his forehead and cling to his thick eyelashes and then I promptly shut the door.
Maybe it's the confusion of seeing Dastan outside my door at nearly one in the morning or maybe it just instinct telling me nothing good can come of this but my stomach drops as he forces the door open and steps into my living room. My heart kicks up its pace and I have no logical explanation as to why it happens; it's just Dastan but there's something about him tonight. Something about the way he's looking at me that tells me he isn't just here for a social visit.
"What's going on?" I ask in a voice that comes out too meek for my liking. I sound afraid, and while I am, he doesn't need to know that.
He shakes water out of his hair in a way that has me transfixed and says; "We need to talk," Yup, there it is; that's the moment I was dreading. He's definitely referring to that moment in his bedroom when I slipped up like an absolute idiot. Clearly, he's not letting me get off easy.
"And it couldn't wait for a more reasonable hour?" I ask, voice dripping with sarcasm and I can tell he doesn't approve by the way his eyebrow rises just a fraction. He always does that when he thinks I'm being especially bratty or childish.
"Considering how you practically ran away earlier, no it couldn't." he says, his tone equally as sarcastic as he crosses his arms over his broad chest. That's when I notice he's wearing nothing but a sweatshirt that's soaked through, he's probably uncomfortable and definitely dripping onto my floor.
"I was just tired," I say, heading over to the hallway closet to get him a towel so he doesn't cause permanent water damage to my apartment.
"Hmm," I hear his voice trail me into the hallway. When I turn around he's right behind me and I have to stop myself from visibly reacting, I hand over the towel and he gives me an unimpressed look as if to say he won't be distracted that easily. "Seems that way."
He accepts the towel but doesn't move out of my space so, I squeeze my way around him with an irritated huff. "What are you doing here, Dastan?"
"I told you we need to talk,"
"So, talk." I shoot back but I sound more agitated and I don't like that he can so easily affect my mood. Five minutes ago I was enjoying a peaceful Friday night and now I want to crawl out of my own skin just to avoid this conversation.
"What you said earlier…" he hesitates and my heart sinks like an anchor in the middle of the pacific ocean. This is it- the rejection. I should just be an adult and take it, if only so I can get it over with but some childish part of me doesn't want to hear the words out of his mouth. Knows that will make it official, real, and I can't deal with that. So, once again instead of being honest, I take the cowards way out.
"Just forget it Dastan, I wasn't thinking and I said something I didn't mean." The words tumble from my lips and fall onto the suddenly quite space between us. I can hear my own heart beating a heavy, brisk rhythm but I can also hear the sound of water droplets hitting the hardwood. The silence is thick and loud and immediately I'm struck with the thought that maybe that wasn't the right thing to say. Maybe I shouldn't lie to the only person who has ever been able to see all of me and has accepted everything that entails. Maybe I owe Dastan the truth right now for the lie I told three years ago that broke his heart.
"So, that's it then?" he asks, his voice cold. He's still holding onto the towel and hasn't made a move to dry himself off. Insanely enough, that's the thing my mind chooses to fixate on and I have to stop myself from reminding him that he'll catch a cold like that. "That's all you have to say" he prompts when I don't immediately answer him.
I just look at him, unsure of whether or not I can handle him knowing the truth. At my continued silence he let's out a disbelieving scoff. Which for some inexplicable reason rubs me the wrong way. "What else do you want me to say?" I ask, my tone sharp and harsh after the prolonged silence in the room. I can't look at him so I turn away, walking to the opposite end of the room.
"I want you to say that it's all true! I want you to say that you think of me as often as I think of you and it drives you crazy because all you want is to be with me. I want you to say you want this as much as I do." He says, his chest heaving as he finishes. I feel my jaw go slack at his words and I can do nothing but look at him. I'm sure my eyes are as wide as saucers and my skin goes hot and prickly.
"What?" the word comes out as a hushed exhale, more of a breath that anything else and I can't find it in me to be any more eloquent at present because I'm certain I wouldn't be able to form a coherent thought even if I tried.
He seems to realize what he's just said then, his eyes fall shut and he lets out a heavy breath. It looks a lot like regret and I feel my expression crumble the way my heart does when I realize he didn't want to say those thing. He's probably just saying it because he's upset and his emotions are all over the place. I try to keep the hurt our of my eyes as he opens his again; I don't think I do a good job because he takes one look at my face and I can tell he knows exactly what I'm thinking. Dastan brushes a hand through his wet hair, and his eyes narrow as if he's contemplating something. I don't have much time to guess at what that might be because in the next second he mutters; "Screw it."
Dastan's long legs eat up the space between us in three long strides and then he's pushed my back against the door and his lips are crashing into mine. My mind goes entirely white and all I can think is that of this is a dream I hope nobody pinches me.