Mr. Lone Boy /BoyxBoy/

||Seventeen||

I had ten billion missed calls from Jake.

Dread filled up in my chest as I stared at his name on my screen. I've avoided him long enough, I thought, so I left him a text.

"Come over, it's about time," I sent.

"I'll be there in five," he replied.

I sighed, picking up the dog and placing him on my lap as I tried to clear my head. He struggled, but after a few ear scratches, he finally settled down and relaxed.

I had already cleaned up the apartment and walked the dog that morning. We started off right near the apartment, but I was so caught up in my thoughts (what I would tell Jake, how I'd tell him, when I'd tell him, etc) that I wandered even further than usual. The dog didn't complain, but my legs did, and I had to take a break at the café for half an hour until I found the will to go home.

Rob still wouldn't look me in the eye, and I didn't feel like facing him so soon. I didn't know if he tried to re-approach Adrianna, but his distance gave me the hint that even he did gather the courage, it didn't go so well.

I hadn't heard much from Devin, just some occasional updates via text. Ian and I hadn't spoken since the day I left their apartment, but I wasn't too concerned.

Whereas Tom kept calling and texting me about going to this and that party, and whether I was still interested in hanging out with him and Jesse. I was, but my guilt got the better of me and I pushed everything away for Jake. Only momentarily, though.

The door bell buzzed and I moved the dog to his cushion at the corner of the apartment before pulling the door open.

"Hi," I said, but my eyes wouldn't meet Jake's, just an invisible point beside them.

"Hey." His voice was clipped despite the eagerness that shone through all those missed calls and un-read texts.

"Come in," I said, finally looking him in the eye.

I felt nothing.

And I hated myself for it.

"We don't have to do this now," he muttered. "If you don't want to-"

"No," I said. "I need to get this off my chest."

He nodded stiffly. My eyes wandered past his face and I mentally cursed myself. He wore a loose fitting t-shirt under a comfy looking leather jacket, and semi-tight back jeans that hung just an inch under the hem of his boxer shorts.

I swallowed hard. He was doing this on purpose.

We walked over to the couch, where he shrugged off his leather jacket, exposing his bare muscular arms.

This was going to be a lot harder than I thought.

I tapped my leg impatiently as I tried to figure out how to begin.

Taking a deep breath, I said, "I'm sorry."

He just stared at me, like he was expecting me to say something else.

"For hurting you," I finished.

"It did hurt," he said, finally speaking, which sent a wave of relief through my body. "Have you thought about what I said?"

"You sound like a therapist." I tried to joke, but it just sound a lot more awkward than I intended.

"Well, considering my major I'll take that as a complement," he said. "I'm sorry too."

I frowned. "Huh?"

"I'm sorry too," he repeated. "I let you in when I knew you weren't interested."