Chapter 17: Player.

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~Ian's POV~

I think Anthony hopes that I haven't noticed, how he's been avoiding me I mean. It's been a week since New Years and everything has remained the same. Except for that one thing, Anthony won't speak to me. No answers on the phone calls or texts, I even tried Facebook messaging him.

And still, nothing.

I had to rely on Matt and David for information on what he's been up to. Even Dan and Phil have filled me in a bit. He's been working a lot, he seems happy enough they all say. Apparently he's content to pretend our kiss never happened, and that I don't exist.

I have picked up more shifts at the coffee shop, intending to make more money for my free time. My luck has been pretty bad so far in 2015, just getting worse and worse, actually.

It started January third, when I scalded my hand while staring off into space- while also pouring a coffee.

Then, January fifth, I twisted my ankle in a rabbit hole while out on a run, I was lucky I didn't break it though.

And now, worst of all, here I am in the Sacramento General Hospital, with a slice in my palm that definitely needed stitches. All I was trying to do was make myself a damn sandwich, but no, I just had to fumble the knife while chopping a tomato, effectively cutting my hand open.

I called Mari immediately, pleading with her to come get me and drive me to the hospital seeing as I couldn't do it myself at this point in time. She angrily met me outside my house, but got wide-eyed and quiet when she saw the amount of blood that was leaking through my messily applied bandages.

I've never had stitches before and, although it was painful, it wasn't as bad as I thought. Plus, the male nurse in the room was great help. He had sandy blonde hair and big blue eyes that put mine to shame. He was funny, making jokes to pass the time and distract me while the doctor sewed me up.

Afterwards he even.. gave me his phone number. This put a smile on my face, even after the ordeal of having my palm slit open and sewn back shut. His name was Tom and he seemed like a really nice guy. Even if I did like Anthony, it's still flattering to be liked by someone.

~

I talked to Tom, he wanted to go on a date. With me. And although I really want to go, I couldn't let go of my hope for Anthony. Ten days without any contact now. It wasn't until Mari texted me from work on my day off that I realized how little I, or our kiss, actually meant to him.

She sent me a quickly taken photo of Anthony sitting at a table in the coffee shop, his hand over some girls, the all too familiar smirk on his face. I texted her back: It's ok, I don't care. I've got a date tonight anyways.

Then I sent out a text to Tom:

 Hey, is it too late to take you up on that date?

MESSAGE SENT.

~

*No one's POV*

Mari Takahashi breezed around the coffee shop she worked in, dodging around people gracefully, like the ballerina she was.

Her phone buzzed in her apron pocket, causing her to take a glance at it with a smile, seeing Ian's reply to her earlier photo. She glanced over to where Anthony and that girl still sat, happy as clams.

The rush hour was almost over, people ducking out of the building with their various drinks and pastries. So it was pretty safe for her to yell out across the shop to her dear friend Melanie. "Hey Mel! Guess what?!"

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