CHAPTER632
Jake looks down at him too and nudges him with his knee, snapping Arrick out of his zombie state and he blinks at me weirdly.
“What?”
“She says do you want her to fetch a coffee for you?” Jake seems to be quickly summarizing the vibes between us and trying to help.
“Yeah, sure.” Arrick goes back to his hands and even though I catch Jake’s eyes narrowing at his brother, I turn on my heel and head off in search of a vending machine or cafeteria in this place. It’s a private hospital and I’m sure they must have some place to get decent coffee.
I need to occupy myself with doing, rather than thinking and not to take anything that’s happening between us at face value right now. Arrick is in distress and I have to understand that.
I end up walking the corridor for a few minutes before a nurse redirects me to a tiny kitchen area with an array of machines and a real coffee pot. It doesn’t take long to make them their drinks as they both take them pretty black with a dash of cream and nothing else and I carry them back to the room slowly for fear of sliding on the polished cream floor. The hospital is creepily quiet and looks like every other one I have ever been in. Sterile, cream, and bland with an array of warren like hallways.
When I finally wander back into the waiting room there is only Arrick, standing by a window looking out into the darkness and I hesitate for a moment.
“Where’s Jake?” I break his trance and he turns to look at me, before coming and relieving me from both mugs, laying one on a low table before going back to where he was before.
“Calling Emma. All we can do is wait until we have news. It could be hours.” He sips his coffee and then lays it down on the windowsill and leans against the white painted frame. His body sagging, and I wish I had the courage to walk over and hug him.
“Right. You have to be positive though, he’s in the best place and he’s a fighter. Your dad is strong and stubborn, and he won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.” I move closer, but he tenses, and I can’t stand this anymore. I get that he’s mad and hurting but even back when we were just best friends, he never had a problem with me touching him. My head falls apart and the only reason staring me in the face is that he has touched someone else.
“Are you seeing Amanda?” I blurt it out stupidly, insecurity peeking out and he goes rigid. Holding my breath as I watch that jawline tighten and that tiny muscle twitch almost untraceable and subtle. He takes a heavy breath then pinches the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb for a second to compose himself before he turns and glares at me.
“Really?” The accusation in his tone and the way he looks so fed up with all of this make it painfully clear that I am way off base with this and made things worse. My heart flutters and I go into fast backtrack in complete panic.
“I’m sorry… I’m stupid… I…” I falter, heart rate elevating and instantly panicking at my own dumbness.
“Just go home. I’ll come back when I know what’s happening with my dad. It’s pointless you being here, and I don’t need this.” He cuts me off and dismisses me again, going back to look out of the window. I could slap myself for bursting out and accusing him, but I am literally going out of my mind with this. It’s agony being on the side of wanting to get into someone’s head and I now know why it made him so crazy.
“Are we over?” I can’t leave without knowing. Falling apart, and I need to know where I stand. It’s sheer desperation clawing at my heart. Arry sags and sighs, glancing back to look at me and he looks exhausted.
“I don’t know what we are, and I don’t have the emotional energy for any of this. Go back to the apartment. Give me some time to deal with one thing at a time. I’m begging you, Sophie.”
I don’t want to go and sit for endless agonizing hours, but this is futile. He’s right. He’s not here with me and he won’t be until his dad sees him. Or at least knows he’s okay. He doesn’t want me near him so all I will do is sit on a cold couch all night in silence and I don’t think my nerves can take it.
I hesitate, thinking about arguing over this and realize I shouldn’t. I should do what he asks and give him his space. Isn’t that what I kept asking him for in Paris and then got mad when he couldn’t leave me alone? That’s what I’m doing. Hovering, fussing over him and teetering insecurely instead of letting him be. Now at least I know how it had to be for him and drop my chin to my chest sadly.
“I guess, I’ll see you when I see you?” I can’t conceal how upset I am, but he doesn’t react. He stares out into the darkness outside and wills me to go.
I know where I’m not wanted, and I leave without making any more of a fuss. Try not to make this worse for myself as I drop my chin to my chest, turn and leave quietly without a backwards glance."
