Chapter Sixteen (Part 7)

It was nice to be left alone again. As long as mom and dad weren’t too upset about what happened, it was fine with me. My heart would go out to the poor ol’ bartender who got in trouble because of me but I had more things to be concerned with; like how I was going to explain myself to my parents. ‘Oh hi mom, hi dad. Yeah, it was just your regular teenage boy trouble, you know? You’ve dealt with it too when you were my age mom.’ And then they’d demand to know what was going on, which of course, would be too complicated to explain.

Grabbing the nearest pillow, I stuffed my face in it and groaned, sounding like one of those pathetic hyenas from The Lion King. “This cannot be happening. Roxanne, you idiot!”

The universe responded to me with a deep voice of a man clearing his throat, followed by, “Shall I come back later?”

My eyes shot open. No flippin’ way.

Scrambling to my feet, I almost toppled to the ground when I was confronted by the sensation of an immediate head rush but managed to keep my balance, clutching the arm rest of the chair next to me. He was actually here. In a suit, and a fine one at that.

I tried to say something back, tripping over my search for words but all that came out in a voice of utter disbelief was, “You’re here.”

His gaze didn’t falter as the blood rushed into his face, turning his cheeks into the most adorable shade of pink. “Yes.”

“So I wasn’t hallucinating before. You really were walking towards me when I was at the bar...”

It felt like a slap to the face. I must have fallen straight on him when I passed out. What must he have been thinking at that point? Turning away, I stared out the window, over the garden in which several people stood with drinks in their hand, enjoying the night. I, on the other hand, was attempting to hide the growing embarrassment on my face. Jensen could read between the lines any day and had probably figured the reason behind my drunken adventure.

“What are you even doing here Jensen?” I asked in a voice much softer than I’d expected for it to be. Not only was I trying to change the topic, but I did want to know exactly why he’d showed up after making it clear he had no interest in being my date to the reunion.

I heard his footsteps, the floorboards creaking. The touch of his hand on my shoulder as a request for me to turn around went unfulfilled as I stood still, not wanting to see him, or more accurately, not wanting him to see me.

The End

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