So what the hell am I supposed to do? Ghosting him would be weird now, wouldn’t it? But keeping this friendship going while pretending to be two different people isn’t exactly healthy either. And if he finds out…then what? Will he hate me? Will he think I’m a freak for being so immature? What the hell am I supposed to do?
My phone vibrates with another notification.
OD: You okay?
Slytherin4ever: Yeah. Why do you ask?
OD: You didn’t respond. What are you thinking about?
That I royally screwed up.
Slytherin4ever: Have you talked to her since the kiss?
OD: No. I want to, but I figured she’d want space. But I’m also dying to know what she’s thinking. What do you think she’s thinking? Hypothetically, of course.
My chest tightens.
Slytherin4ever: I think she’s probably freaking out a little bit. Not necessarily in a bad way. She probably liked the kiss the same way you did, and I’d bet it confirmed her feelings for you too. She’s probably just scared.
OD: How can I make her not scared?
I chew my lower lip, desperate to give him an answer. If only I knew what it was.
Slytherin4ever: Take it slow. Don’t rush her. And just…promise me you won’t hurt her again.
I press send before I can overthink it, my hands shaking as I stare at the screen.
OD: I promise I’ll never hurt her again. And I can be as patient as she needs me to be. I’m not going anywhere.
Slytherin4ever: Good. I think that’s all she needs to hear. Probably more than once, though. Lol
OD: I’ll keep that in mind.
Slytherin4ever: And don’t…expect anything from her. Not yet.
OD: I won’t. I promise. Thanks for your advice.
Slytherin4ever: Don’t mention it. I should probably get some sleep. Night, Owen.
OD: Goodnight, Slytherin4ever.
14
Saylor
Why am I nervous right now? a tiny voice demands as I swing open the break room door. I should not be having a mini-meltdown on my way to work for the day. So what? I haven’t seen Owen in a couple of days, and he hasn’t even reached out to me since our kiss. But he’s definitely enjoyed chatting with Slytherin4ever.
What does that even mean?
And yes, the only thing he ever talks about is the girl he’s supposedly in love with, but why hasn’t he tried to contact me? Saylor? The girl he kissed and supposedly has feelings for, yet refuses to talk to.
And why do I even care? It was just a kiss. What is wrong with me?
Practically vibrating with frustration, I jerk open the cabinet in the breakroom and find an empty mug while ignoring a certain someone who’s busy chatting it up with another certain someone who’s wearing a short, plaid skirt and a coy little smile as she twirls her hair around her finger like a sexy schoolgirl.
Barf.
A bit of the coffee splashes onto the counter as I pour it into my cup. “Fan-freaking-tastic,” I mutter under my breath before tearing off a square of paper towel.