Air caught in my throat.
He seemed to lower his chin, and I heard the deep breath he took next. “Thank you for last night.”
Thank you for last night?
I was knocked so speechless that I’d heard the front door open and close before I was even able to open my mouth. He thanked me? Not that there was anything wrong with him thanking me, I guessed, but it seemed like a weird thing to say, especially when hours before he’d said he loved me.
My stomach dipped and then knotted itself right up.
Minutes turned into hours as I sat there in bed, until the pale blue light spread across the floor, chasing away the remnants of night. It’s okay, I told myself. I didn’t need to read anything into his abrupt departure. He said there was stuff he needed for class and that was all.
But he hadn’t said he loved me as he left.
I squeezed my eyes shut, desperately trying to ignore the hollow feeling opening up in my chest, quickly filling with insecurities and doubts.
Everything was okay after what we’d shared last night. I couldn’t allow myself to think anything else, because . . . I shook my head fiercely, sending a sharp pain down my neck.
Everything had to be okay.
Jase was quiet when he picked me up for classes a few hours later. So was I. I hadn’t fallen back asleep and had worked myself into a nervous mess by the time I got into his Jeep. He’d dropped me off in front of Whitehall, and I think we might’ve spoken about five words to each other.
Something was wrong.
But my worry over what was going on with Jase fell to the side by the time I stepped into Whitehall. People were staring. Not because I was on crutches. Groups of two or three would turn to one another. Some whispered. Some didn’t.
“She’s the one who found her.”
I heard that same statement about four times by the time I made it to history class an hour later.
Calla frowned as she saw me. “You look like crap.”
“Thanks,” I muttered.
Tucking a strand of blond hair back behind her ear, her frown deepened. “Sorry. That was a bitchy greeting. Are you okay?”
No. I wasn’t okay. For a fuck load of reasons. “Everyone is staring at me.”
She glanced around the room. A few students up front had been glancing over their shoulders from the moment I sat down. “No one is looking at you.”
I sent her a dry look, and she cringed. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better, but everyone is looking at me like I’m some kind of morbid fascination.”
Her eyes narrowed on the boys up front. Both hastily turned back away. “Ignore them,” she said. “And they’ll stop staring. Or you’ll stop caring. Trust me, I know.”
I nodded and put all my effort into ignoring the curious stares of classmates. One would think there’d be nothing exciting about what I had experienced, but it was like people who rubbernecked when they came upon a crash scene.
“So how’s the delish Jase doing today?” she asked as we headed out of history, branching into another subject I wasn’t wanting to delve into.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, adjusting my grips on the crutches. I wanted to toss these mothafuckas into oncoming traffic. “He was kind of moody and silent today.”
She rolled her eyes. “So typical of boys. They accuse us of PMSing, but they have more mood swings than a pregnant woman.”
We made it to the connecting spot where the bus would take us to west campus. I glanced around the crowded corner. No one was paying attention to us and I probably shouldn’t say anything, but I needed to tell someone. I kept my voice low. “But we had sex last night.”
Her lips formed a perfect O.
“It was our first time,” I added, feeling my cheeks burn. “And before you ask, yes, it was great. It was freaking outstanding, but I woke up this morning and he was just sitting there on the bed. He left after that, saying he had something he needed to get from his house and when I saw him this morning, he barely spoke to me.”
She snapped her mouth shut. “Okay. Did you guys get into an argument or anything?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
“Maybe he really just had to go get something from his house and he’s just tired this morning. Or just plain moody,” she said after a few moments. “Either way, just ask him if he’s okay. That’s better than standing here stressing yourself out about it. You have enough to be worrying about.”
She was right, but there was nothing about her words that looked like she even convinced herself, and my stomach twisted even further. I just needed to ask him. And I would the first chance I had. I’d ask him if he was okay and he’d tell me everything was fine and I’d just feel stupid afterward for making a big deal out of nothing.