Her mouth dropped open. Only a little and for a split-second, but it was enough to see that my admission took her completely by surprise.
She wasn’t the only one.
Axel knew about my crush. He felt the same way.
We’d discussed that and had agreed that we should both have done things differently in the past. We also agreed that if she’d forgive us and offer us a second chance, we both wanted to take it—may the best man win; no hard feelings, and all that.
We both wanted a chance at friendship and more than friends, but we also knew we’d have to take things one step at a time.
Still, I’d never told him exactly how deep my feelings went or how far back into history they first appeared, all the way back to the ninth grade. Though, if I was being completely honest, maybe we’d both always felt that way underneath all of the stupid, immature bullying.
The same way a boy would rather pull a girl’s hair than tell her how he felt: that made sense to adult me and explained a lot.
Yeah, we’d been those boys. Those stupid, stupid boys. And now, as grown men, we paid the price for being stupid boys.
“You started ignoring me in the seventh grade,” Jasmine said, narrowing her eyes as she regained her composure. “Seventh grade, Micah. Not ninth grade. By the time freshman year rolled around, I was used to the silent treatment. And thankful for it, actually, since it meant you weren’t actively trying to ruin my day anymore.”
Ouch.
Damn.
That was a truth bomb neither of us had prepared for. But we should have. What the hell did we expect?
“I need to go,” she said as she started to move again. “Thanks for the coffee.”
We both watched as she walked across the diner and out the door. At least the rain had died down so we wouldn’t get as soaked the second time around.
“Should we go after her?” Axel asked, still watching as she disappeared into the night.
“No. We probably shouldn’t have even come here in the first place.”
“We had to, though,” he said. “We had to apologize, and I think it’s probably for the best that you told her the truth.”
I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Really? You think that was for the best? Because I don’t think it did a lick of good, do you? As a matter of fact, I feel like shit right now, and I might have made things worse.”
My voice had started to get louder, but I cut myself off with a deep breath and let my shoulders slump. I’d put my heart out there, and she had rejected me, rejected both of us. And it was exactly as I expected.
Which was fair enough. We certainly didn’t deserve a chance with her, no matter how bad each of us might have wanted it.
“I’m not ready to give up and leave things like that,” Axel said, even surprising me with his new level of pigheaded stubbornness. “I don’t know what we should do next, but... I’m not giving up. She deserves better; she’s worth more.”
“I want to punch you right now, but I can’t even argue because I feel the same way.” I sighed, feeling defeated.
Although we’d spent a lot—a lot—of time talking about Jasmine and what we should or shouldn’t say if and when we ran into her at the upcoming wedding, we didn’t normally talk about deep and meaningful things like emotions.
The brief conversation we’d just had reaffirmed that we didn’t really need to discuss it because we were both on the same wavelength when it came down to it. We both felt the same damn way. We both admired her, liked her, and wanted her.
Even after all these years.
After tonight, after the rejection, seeing her in person only rekindled the spark of interest that had lain dormant within me. And for him, the same, apparently. We both still wanted a second chance at a more healthy, positive relationship with Jasmine Bailey.
I’d readily agreed to move back from New York City and put my acting plans on hold to help Axel produce the historical movie he’d been working on since forever.
And yeah, we were going back to the small apartment we’d been sharing without the full forgiveness I’d been hoping for, but the night hadn’t been a complete bust.
She’d come all the way out to the diner to talk to us. She had ended up forgiving us even if it had been mixed with a different kind of rejection.
So that was progress, right? I was almost willing to call it a win.
Almost.
We still had the rest of the weekend to convince her that we weren’t the same rotten assholes we used to be.
Chapter Four
Jasmine Bailey
What. The. Hell?
Shaking my head with exasperation, I peeled my soaked clothes off my body and stepped into the shower.