Tender (Book 1 - Complete)

Chapter 6 - Lynn

The time has come to step out into that abyss of the unknown and hope for the best. I've already convinced myself that I can either sit by drowning in my desire to confront a certain boy, or I can toughen up and actually make an effort. What's the worst that could happen? I've seen him interact with enough people to realize that our five years apart didn't turn him into a cruel person. He wouldn't reject me for simply speaking to him... right?

With my determination on high, and my mind floating somewhere in the clouds of hope, I make my way towards Jamie Gallagher. We both have free period at this hour, and after a little hunting, I finally find him in the library. He's sitting on the floor in the furthest hidden corner, tapping away on his phone, so he doesn't notice me when I first walk up to him.

"Hi, Jamie," I mutter when his eyes finally do flicker up to mine.

"Hey." He looks surprised, but his eyes remain on me as he carefully slides his phone into the front pocket of his jeans.

A suffocating blanket of doom settles around my chest, spreading into the air between us. This was a bad idea. I honestly can't even bring myself to utter a word around the thickness blocking my vocal chords.

Jamie's eyes narrow, watching me like a wolf zeroing in on its prey. "What's up?" he asks, the tone of his voice hovering somewhere between disinterest and caution.

"Nothing," I say, finding courage and taking a seat beside him, both of our backs against the wall as we lounge on the carpeted floor between two bookshelves. "It's been awhile, huh?"

Jamie's face hardens as he stares accusingly at me. I take a deep breath, preparing myself to be vulnerable with the boy beside me—even though the chances of him taking advantage of my openness could ultimately destroy me.

"Look," I say, turning to face him slightly, desperation tinging my words, "you can hate me all you want—"

"Good."

"—But, I just really need to say all this before I lose the chance." I keep my gaze on him, searching his eyes for any sign that he's opening up or softening. I'm not surprised when I see his glare harden further, his expression grim as he waits. "I'm really sorry," I almost whisper, glancing at my hands before returning my attention to his face. "I never meant to just walk away. You were my best friend and I made a huge mistake that I'll never be able to take back. But, is there any chance you could let me try?"

He's clearly not convinced. Instead, he tears his eyes from me, crossing his arms over his chest as he gazes down the aisle in front of us.

"I—"

"You know what my problem is?" He says, cutting me off as heat and passion coat his words. He turns to face me, his face hard and unreadable—though the anger radiating from him is nearly palpable. "It's not that you left. It's how you left."

"I know," I admit, head bent in shame. "I get that completely. I handled things all wrong."

"Why didn't you just tell me?" His voice softens with the question, a pinch of hurt eating at the confusion and animosity in his gaze.

"I wanted to," I explain. "But, the moment my mom got news that my grandma's health was declining, she booked our flights and we were gone. When we got to Thailand, it was just pure chaos that first week... and with the twelve hour time difference, I kept missing the opportunity to call you."

"That's a weak excuse," he spits, pulling his knees toward his chest and resting his forearms on them. "You could have left a message or a text. Good grief," He sighs noisily through his nose, "it's not as if we live in the stone age. We have options now. Heck! You could have written me a freakin' letter. But no, you left me to worry about you—banging on your door, calling you, texting you, asking around about you—and you didn't even have the decency to tell me you weren't even in the country!"