While George’s look of horror grows, I sniffle and search for a tissue in my bag. I find a crumpled cocktail napkin that scratches my face when I use it. “The present is from my mom,” I lie. “I guess I’m homesick.”
He doesn’t look convinced. In fact, I’m sure he knows I’m lying. But he lets it go with a shrug. “I guess it’s good you’re going home for break soon.”
But my home isn’t a place anymore. I’ve realized too late that it’s a person. And I’ve torn him from my life.
I TURNED TWENTY-THREE yesterday. Ever since my parents died, I’ve hated my birthday. It only serves to remind me that my family is gone, and I am essentially alone. Gray is clearly doing Anna damage control. He managed to talk me into seeing a movie yesterday—a completely lame ass way to celebrate, in his opinion. Now he wants to drag me out to do a birthday celebration with the guys, who aren’t taking no for an answer. I’d rather pretend birthdays didn’t exist.
I think about the present I left on Anna’s doormat. Since the album cover arrived, I’d been wanting to see her expression when she opened it. Now I can only try to imagine. Did she smile in that quick and bright way of hers when she’s surprised? Or did she smile with slow, blooming reluctance, like she’s losing the fight with her emotions?
Did she even like it? Am I pathetic for giving it to her? Hell, if she ever found out how much I paid for it, I’d certainly look like a sap. But it wasn’t as if I could return it; I’d bought it at auction.
Why am I torturing myself with this? I can’t go back and beg for another chance. I have some pride. And I don’t know how to fight for her and still keep it. Giving her the present was the last thing I could do. I can only hope she understands: I’m here, if she wants me.
“Stupid,” I mutter to myself.
A knock on my bedroom door has me sitting straighter. “Be out in a sec,” I call to Gray, who is waiting for me to get my ass in gear. Shit, I really don’t want to go out. But a guy cannot tell another guy that he’d rather mope around the house. Not if he wants to survive the ribbing.
“You got a package.” Gray’s voice is muffled by the barrier of the door, but there’s something about his overly-neutral tone that has my chest clenching.
In two steps, I’m at the door, wrenching it open. He just stands there, a bland look on his face, holding out a wrapped present. For a moment, I frown. Is he being funny? It is from him?
But I can’t imagine Gray using silver paper or an elaborate white silk bow. It’s too feminine.
I have to clear my throat to speak. “Where’d you get it?”
Gray does a piss-poor job of hiding his wariness. “I thought I heard something on the porch. Found this leaning against the front door.”
My entire body tenses against the need to run out of the house and search the street. It had to be Anna. Why didn’t she knock? Hell, I hadn’t knocked, maybe she thought that’s the way I wanted to play things. Not really. I’d just chickened out like a total puss.
“Well?” Gray wags the box. “Are you going to take it? Or should I toss the thing?”
Before he can move to do just that, I grab the present from his hand. I don’t look at it but hold the box down and slightly away from my body as if it might burn me. But my fingers dig into it.
Gray and I stare at each other while I remain immobile with indecision and doubt. Maybe it isn’t from Anna. And why am I dithering like some old lady? I give Gray a dirty look, because he’s starting to smirk, and shut the door in his face. No way in hell am I opening this potential bomb in front of him.
Going for the bandage approach, I rip open the package with one swipe. A card falls to the floor. With a shaking hand I grab it as I study the leather book the torn wrapping paper has revealed. Emerson’s Essays. Gold lined pages. Pristine condition. I sink to the floor, my back leaning against the bed for support. I smooth a hand over the cover and then open the card.