Chapter 17: Hold This

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If I loved you less, I might have been able to talk about it more.

If I loved you less, I might have been able to talk about it more

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J A M E S

"James, I look ridiculous."

"Well maybe if you stepped out of the changing room for a second, I'd be able to confirm that for you," I said sarcastically to the door.

No, I don't talk to doors. I was addressing the person who was currently behind the door.

Since I was going with Annabeth to the game, it apparently automatically became an obligation for me to give her one of my jerseys- which she was currently trying on, in the changing room.

That thought didn't cross my mind- until Tyler the dumbass pointed it out.

It was his fault I was in this mess anyway.

Though it wasn't necessarily a mess. He didn't need to know that.

"I didn't think I'd have to change," she whines from the other side of the door, "You totally ruined my outfit plans- I was matching too! I'm never forgiving you for this. Ever."

"The horror," I deadpan, at the door. 

Usually I would have been absolutely repulsed, and very against giving my clothing to someone else. But with her? For some reason, the moment Tyler pointed it out- I hadn't felt the slightest bit of any of that. 

Of course, I grumbled a little outwardly to throw him off- but I was afraid he saw right through my horse-crap. 

I sincerely hoped he couldn't, though. Because I did not want him to know that a tiny part of me actually felt a little warm.

That... feeling again. Disgusting.

I knock more impatiently again. 

All she had to do was change the top half, and here she was taking forever.

"Evans, get the hell out of there," I say again, with a little more emphasis than before, "I've got to make sure your clumsy ass finds a seat in the bleachers, and I have to finish my warm-up before the game begins, so get the f-"

The door creaked open, mid-rant.

She peeked her head out, her face almost sheepish. "Promise me you won't laugh."

I rolled my eyes. "In the two weeks that you've known me, tell me the number of times you've seen or heard me laugh."

"Negative forty seven."

"Aren't you one heck of a math genius," I retorted sarcastically. "Just get out of there already."

She slowly stepped out, and that was when I knew-

I should've taken her warning about not laughing more seriously.

In my defense, I didn't exactly want to laugh. It was just- a sudden urge to smile? I don't know.

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