When did this happen? When did my feelings spill beyond friendship this badly?
I’ve seen him with other women …
He’s always been this way; when did I start reacting like this? Breaking my heart over him being his Casanova self.
“After I’m gone, tell the others I had to go away for a couple of days.” He’s picking up his suitcase, his body stiff with tension, and the hatred oozing between us is unbearable.
“What reason shall I give?” I sound alien. This fake politeness between us is thick in the stifling air. We’re both exceptionally good at cold and polite.
“I don’t give a shit, Emma. The truth, for all I care.” He flexes his eyebrows sardonically.
That was a blow. It hurt; it knocked the wind out of my sails. I move back as he stalks out with suitcase in hand. He slides his shades on, and he doesn’t even look at me; he seems beyond pissed.
Should I follow him? Should I stay here?
Stop hovering, Emma; it’s pathetic.