SHE'S MINE → JASON MCCANN

00:74

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this chapter.

chapter seventy-four |
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I hold back the tears that are threatening to fall from my eyes.

He called me. Again.

I run my fingers through my hair anxiously. I feel bad, I told him to never call me again & I hung up. What was I supposed to do? I don't understand what I'm supposed to do or say anymore. Am I supposed to just wait—for him to some how feel like he needs to hear my voice? Am I supposed to answer him & pretend like everything that happened between didn't happen? That's not fair. At some point in time I needed to hear his voice too, And when I needed to hear it the most, he wouldn't answer.

I'm finally getting to the stage where I can say that I'm okay—but him calling keeps bringing me back to the stage where I couldn't stop crying, the loneliness, the guilt. I can't go back there. I can't. It's been almost a year & I'm at a place where I never thought I would be.

Now he knows how it feels to reach for something that finally doesn't want to grabbed anymore.

I quickly run my finger under my eyes, making sure that there isn't any traces of tears. I take in a large breath. My minds starts taking in everything. Maybe he was going to say something to me. My mind kept swirling with different things he could've said to me. The cool spring breeze is blowing my hair slightly, while I stand in front of expansive restaurant. I wish that I didn't have to go back inside.

"Aren't you cold?,"

I turn around to see a man leaning on the wall, with a cigarette placed in his mouth. He is extremely attractive & mysterious all at the same time. He had curly brown hair that was placed in a man bun & a piercing on his lip. I finally notice his apron, realizing that he works in the restaurant.

"Ahh, not really." I say. He nods, placing the cigarette in his hand.

"It's pretty chilly & I don't see you with your boyfriend," He says.

"That's because I don't have one,"

"Sorry, That was forward." He admits. He places the cigarette into his mouth, releasing the smoke slowly. I caught myself staring at him. He notices, causing him to send me a suggestive smirk. I quickly look away, watching the congested street & pedestrians walking to wherever they are going.

"Would you like a cigarette?,"

"No." I quickly say.

"So you're one of those good girls." I send him a puzzled look. What does that suppose to mean? I cross my hands over my chest, while watching him attentively.

"Me not accepting a cigarette from you means I'm one of those good girls?,"

"Are you offended?" He asks humorously.

"Not really. I just think you're an ass." I shrug.

"Ouch." He says, while clutching onto his chest. "I'm actually not an ass,"

"Good for you,"

"I wouldn't have given it to you anyways." He admits.