Page 90 of His to Cherish
I also wanted to ask him why. Why would he say those things to me, smile and laugh, and talk about a future trip to Chicago when the entire time I was simplynobody important?
Suzanne and Blue were right. At the very least, I needed closure.
“Argh,” I groaned, and squeezed my eyes closed.
I no longer had time to wallow and wonder. I had books to shelve, a task I hated doing, but it was mundane and I really wanted to stop thinking. Fortunately, I didn’t have any classes planning to be in our library or computer labs that afternoon, so I had hours of quiet to look forward to.
Dropping my fingers from my temples, I braced both hands on the edge of my desk to stand up and get to work.
My vision blurred and I swayed on my feet when I saw him.
How I didn’t sense him first, like I’d done in the past, I had no clue, but standing just inside the doors to the library, an orange visitor badge on his chest that all visitors had to wear, was Aidan.
I gasped and my eyes darted to the wall of windows behind him that separated us from the throng of students making their way to their afternoon classes. My pulse began thrumming in my already painful temples and my fingers curled around the laminate edge of my desk.
What was he doing here?
As if he sensed my unasked question, he began walking toward me.
I looked behind me, searching for a way out. This was not the time or the place. And why in the hell was he at myjob? I quickly turned to face him, irritated by his presence.
“Hey,” he said, his eyes quickly scanning the room as he came closer to my desk. His hands were in the front pockets of his worn jeans and his hair was a mess, like he’d been running his fingers through it all day.
“What are you doing here?” I seethed, leaning toward him instead of backing away.
He licked his lips and I couldn’t help but watch his tongue dart out.
“You haven’t been home.” His voice was uncertain and I wanted to shake him. “And you haven’t returned my calls.”
His hand went to his hair.
My eyebrows pulled together. “Because I don’t want to talk to you.”
“I know.” He nodded. “And I don’t blame you, but I’ve also been worried about you and I’d like to explain.”
In my peripheral vision, I saw three eighth-grade girls carrying large stacks of books in their arms barrel through the door, their voices instantly quieting as they chattered excitedly.
“I can’t do this here. And you shouldn’t have come.”
“I know that,” he snapped, clearly frustrated with me. “But you haven’t been at your house. Please, Chelsea, just hear me out.”
“Not here,” I relented before I realized I was saying it.
A small grin of satisfaction, or maybe hope, appeared on his face. That familiar warm flutter was back in my stomach and I hated it.
My body was betraying me even as I tried to cling to my anger and pain.
Yet he looked so upset, so bothered, that I felt my heart giving in to him.
Damn it. I was way too freaking nice.
“Later,” I conceded, my voice soft and hesitant.
“I’ll be here after school to get you.”
I frowned, but he didn’t give me a chance to argue.
“I’m not giving you time to change your mind. This week has been killing me, knowing that I hurt you. Just let me beg for your forgiveness, and if you don’t want anything to do with me when I’m done, I’ll leave you alone.”
