Page 17 of Call You Mine
The kitchen at the station is quiet, and we all know we’re in the calm before the storm.
It’s already been a busy shift, and with it being the Saturday night before Valentine’s Day—not the busiest holiday of the year, but one that can often prompt candle-lit dinners gone wrong or the burning of ex-lovers' pictures getting too out of control—we’re all just waiting for a call to come through.
“Speaking of Rumi, what are your guys’ plans for tomorrow?” I ask, changing the subject, something I’ve become so accustomed to doing.
Growing up with three younger brothers, I’m used to falling into the background—especially since they’re the ones who needed the attention.
I didn’t.
I’m more comfortable being pushed off to the side anyway.
“My mom’s babysitting, so we can go out to dinner,” Jack answers before asking, “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong with you?”
I exhale, trying to think of another question I can ask to try to change the subject again, but Jack doesn’t give me enough time.
“Is this about Ava?”
My brows raise. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Pressing my lips, I swallow, trying to buy more time to decide how I want to answer him. Jack’s tone is bored, and he looks at me as if he doesn’t care if I’ll tell him he’s right or not.
Yet the fact he’s even asking tells me he knows more than he lets on.
That hecaresmore.
And I guess it’s about fucking time all my efforts to befriend this guy have paid off—but I’m slightly regretting it now.
My initial thought is to deflect—again. I could stick with the excuse that I’m tired and try to change the subject again. I don’t want to make my problems Jack’s problems. And Ava would kill me if she knew I was sitting here talking about how lovesick I am over her to her best friend’s boyfriend.
I’ve been dealing with them alone because I’m too worried to speak them aloud at the risk of losing the small pieces I have of Ava. But I really don’t want to keep these feelings buried anymore. Keeping them to myself for the last eight months hasn’t done me any good.
Maybe it’s because I’m used to being the one who asks what’s wrong, the one who sits and listens and offers advice, and right now, I don’t want to be that person.
I sigh. “I can’t stop thinking about her, man. And she doesn’t give a fuck.”
Jack chuckles, but it fades quickly.
He’s always had a soft spot for Ava, right there next to the one he has for Rumi and Evee, and I think it’s because of what she means to Rumi.
And it stirs something possessive inside of me, knowing that Jack knows Ava better than I do—it’s not jealousy orcontempt; I’m glad she has someone like Jack who cares about her.
But why won’t she let me be that person for her?
“She doesn’t want anything serious,” I explain. “Which I thought I’d be fine with. But it’s beenmonths.” I don’t know if Jack and Rumi know the extent of my relationship with Ava. They know we’ve seen each other on and off since our double date with them last summer, and they must know we aren’t anything serious, but I don’t think they know how that’s one-sided, and not because of me.
“And now, you want more?” he prompts.
I place my elbows on the table, letting my head fall into my hands, my dark hair dropping over my forehead. “Yes, I want more.”
“And have you told her that?” Jack asks, and my mind drifts to when Jack was in a similar position with Rumi—where he wanted more but didn’t think he was ready.
He was in a constant battle with his PTSD, and she just left an abusive relationship—and at the time, they were friends.
Even though anyone with eyes could see right through it.
That’s the difference between them and where I stand with Ava.
I want all of her, and she just wants some of me.
And we’re not even friends.
