Chapter Eight

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Joel Miller made you feel like a teenager again.

Obsessively checking your phone, trying to find any excuse to see him, trying to catch his attention.

He made you feel desperate, and you hated it.

After your encounter in the kitchen, Joel was extremely distant. You'd wondered for days if you'd done something wrong, replaying the last night you'd seen him in your head.

Were you too desperate? Had it turned him off? You thought about that night over and over, trying to remember if he'd acted weird.

You'd spent so many days glued to your phone, waiting for a text, until you decided to text him first.

You clicked on your message thread, reading the last conversation. You typed out a simple "Hey" and pressed send, then nervously tossing your phone to the side.

You plucked a book from your bedside table and relaxed on top of your comforter. You dove into the book, reading the sappy romance about an author who fell in love with her childhood best friend.

The book was sweet, but you couldn't focus on the story. Your mind compared your relationship with Joel to what you were reading. Your heart stung as you imagined a life with Joel.

You imagined him cooking dinner for you, or walking down the street holding your hand, or kissing you in public. You would never be able to do any of those things.

You wondered what would happen if you told your dad. Would he really kill you and Joel? Of course not. But would he allow the two of you to be in a relationship...?

Your phone buzzed beside you, and you slammed you book shut, scrambling to answer it. Joel's name filled your screen.

"Hello?"

There was a pause before he spoke. "Your dad home?" You peeked outside, searching for your dads truck.

"Don't think so, why?" More silence.

"I'm comin' over, be there in a bit." Click.

What the fuck?

You scrambled around you room, throwing the random loose articles of clothes into your hamper, picking up anything that would be embarrassing for a grown man to see. You checked your appearance and ultimately decided to take your hair out of the bun that sat atop your head. Finally, after days of not hearing from Joel, you would get to see him.

And this time, no one would be around.

You did wonder, though, why he chose to come to your house. It seemed to be a very risky option, but you chose not to question his decision. You were still rushing around your room when you heard a faint knock on the front door, stopping you in your tracks.

When you pulled back the door, you were half expecting Joel to rush in and grab you, but instead he wore a frown, his eyes searing into your skin. "Need to talk to you. Can I come in?"

Something was wrong. Had Sara found out what was going on? Had your father? Surely not, because you and Joel were still alive. You could feel a change in the air- Joel was usually a reserved man, but this was different. The look on his eyes, the way he shuffled around the room and awkwardly sat next to you at the kitchen table- he had bad news.

"What's wrong Joel?" Your voice wavered, and your leg subconsciously bounced nervously. Joel pinched the bridge of his nose, hesitating before speaking. He ran his hands through his hair, avoiding eye contact.

"Look, I've been thinkin'.. and this ain't easy.." his voiced trailed off. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest.

"What, Joel?"

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