One for the Angels

For the next few days, I barely stayed outside at all. I would come out, hand Danny his food, and walk back in. I always felt him staring after me, like he was surprised I didn’t want to stay and talk to him after what had happened between us. But honestly, could he blame me?

I was just tired of it. I was tired of asking the wrong questions and getting no answers, asking the right ones and still not getting any answers. I wanted something normal with a boy for once, not . . . whatever this was.

“Can you blame me?” I asked Hannah, who merely pursed her lips and said nothing.

“Am I wrong?” I asked Tim, who simply said, “About what?” because Tim was possibly the most oblivious person to walk the earth.

“I deserve better,” I said to Hannah after talking to Tim clearly wasn’t working.

“Yes, you do,” she agreed.

“How can he expect me to stay after all of this? It’s not fair to me to be the one always flying blind here. I don’t care if he doesn’t have anywhere to go. It doesn’t give him an excuse.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“If he wants to play the moody, guarded role, then fine. Find someone who wants that part. I don’t.”

“Good.”

But despite that, I didn’t feel any better. I missed talking to him, hearing his sarcastic opinions on whatever I gave him that day and feeling the warmth of his side pressing into mine. Even though he was excruciatingly annoying, I still loved him.

“I still love him.”

“I know,” Hannah said.

“What do I do?”

“You apologize.”

I considered it. “Yeah, okay. Good idea. Thanks, Han.” I patted her shoulder and she smiled at me, a little sadly, before going back to perusing her magazine. I made a cappuccino and threw together a spinach and feta cheese wrap, just because I knew Danny would make fun of it, before I pushed open the door and went outside, already thinking of what to say. I’m sorry I was a jerk. But to be fair, you were too. But to be even fairer, it’s why I like you.

But even though he’d faithfully showed up to the coffee shop every single day at the same time for an entire month, there was nothing there this time. No purple sleeping bag, no beanie, no note. There was no sign he’d ever been there to begin with. Danny was gone, for real.