Like Gravity(22)
He dropped me off at home shortly after, giving me a friendly hug and making inappropriate jokes as I walked toward the house. It was almost as if he sensed my disquiet and was trying to calm me, like I was some skittish wild animal he’d pushed beyond its comfort zone.
Too perceptive, I thought for the hundredth time that night.
I waved cheerily from the stairs, pretending everything was fine between us before firmly shutting the door behind me and letting a shaky breath of relief rattle from my lungs. Finn Chambers was the worst kind of wonderful –charming, attractive, funny, and painfully intuitive.
And I intended to avoid him like the plague.
***
I spent the next two weeks doing everything in my power to stay away from Finn. When he’d approach me on campus it was tricky, but not impossible, to escape any kind of interaction. Avoiding eye contact and ignoring him wasn’t enough, though – the guy really couldn’t take a hint, and proceeded to try to speak with me every time we crossed paths. I’d had to resort to slipping into the girls’ bathroom, dodging into empty classrooms, and even mingling with groups of random passerby to evade him.
On the few occasions he managed to confront me face to face, I’d formulate an immediate excuse and practically flee the scene. And my excuses were always flimsy at best; I’m pretty sure he knew I was lying when I told him I had to pick up Lexi from tennis practice, in light of the fact that she’s never voluntarily stepped foot onto any sort of athletic arena in her life. Oh, and he definitely knew I was bullshitting him when I claimed to be late for work – my nonexistent job certainly helped to solidify that alibi.
My lack of sleep was definitely interfering with my cognitive abilities. Either that or the intensity of his dark eyes was causing my brain to short-circuit every time he came within a ten-foot radius, thus eliminating any deceptive skills I once might have possessed.
Considering he hadn’t even existed in my life until a few short weeks ago, he suddenly seemed to be everywhere I looked. I remained convinced that eventually he’d accept my tireless evasions as an indication that we weren’t friends and simply lose interest in me. After a few weeks, I knew my strategy was finally working when I literally stumbled headfirst into my problem on my walk to class, not paying attention as I shot off a quick text to Lexi about our Friday night plans.
“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” I said, steadying myself on the arm of the guy I’d obliviously barreled straight into. “I’m such a ditz, I–”
The words died on my tongue when I looked up into a set of deep blue eyes – eyes so uniquely expressive they could really only belong to one person – and realized my mistake. I hastily stepped backwards out of his personal space, suddenly uncomfortable and dreading anything he might say. Something flickered in Finn’s eyes as he looked down at me, but it disappeared too quickly for me to process.
He didn’t say a word. He simply stepped out of my path, half-bowing with a mockingly chivalrous sweep of his arm, as if to usher me along. I avoided his eyes, walking as fast as my short legs could carry me away from his presence and, strangely, from the guilty pangs clenching like a fist around my heart. The guilt both confused and terrified me.
I hadn’t done anything wrong. What right did he have to look so hurt? It wasn’t like we were friends. We were strangers, really.
And yet, the way he’d looked at me revealed that he’d been wounded when I’d shut him out of my life. I didn’t understand it, or him, or the feelings of regret coursing through my veins – and frankly, I didn’t want to. So, I did what I did best – compartmentalized my emotions and moved on.
I knew I was doing the right thing by staying away from him. He was a risk I couldn't afford to take, and I assured myself he’d soon forget all about me. After all, he had plenty of adoring fans to keep him company in the meantime.
At least, after two solid weeks of dodging him, he finally understood that we would never be friends. As I walked home, I realized that I’d likely just experienced my last ever encounter with Finn. I tried to remind myself that it was what I’d wanted, pushing the small voice screaming You’re such an idiot, Brooklyn as far from my consciousness as possible. I could deal with any amount of regret, if it meant I was safe in the end.
***
The anniversary of her death finally arrived. I was exhausted from the nonstop nightmares that had taken up residence in my head for the past two weeks, but I knew I needed to escape this day and be alone. I borrowed Lexi’s car and ditched my classes, hoping a long drive with no particular destination might do something to calm my mind. It was a futile hope, but I clung to it in desperation.
The annual sympathy card, no doubt selected and signed by one of my father’s secretaries, had been delivered with the morning mail. I’m not sure why he bothered to have one sent; we’d never done anything to commemorate her death in the past, even when I’d lived with him. When I was little, I’d spend the day crying each year, sometimes begging him to talk about my mother – how they’d met, what she was like, anything to keep her picture unfaded in my memory. But he wouldn’t, or couldn't, speak of her and eventually I stopped asking him to.
I drove until Lexi’s car ran out of gas, pulling off to fill up in a nameless town full of faceless people. It was ironic that everything seemed to blur together today, as if I were moving too fast to process any details, since each minute dragged by like an hour and each hour passed like a day.