‹ Prequel: Desinence
Sequel: Rooftop Memories

You Don't Love Me

Blake

He knows the chances of Anna being awake are really slim, but knocking on her door at two in the morning seemed like a better idea than lying in bed, rethinking what had happened. He knocks again, but not too loud, almost hoping that she won’t answer.

But then the wooden door creaks open and she’s standing there looking just as tired as he feels, her warm brown eyes clouded with sleep and confusion. And then her eyes look him over and the warmth is gone replaced by something else that he doesn’t want to identify. She doesn’t look mad, not really, just resigned and withdrawn.

“What do you want, Blake?” And her soft voice is even colder than her eyes.

“Can I come in?”

The look that she gives him is so piercing it almost hurts because Anna’s never looked at him like that. Maybe in anger or annoyance but never such disdain.

“Why? I have nothing to say to you.”

“But there are so many things that I’d like to say to you.”

Her blonde hair is falling out of the messy bun on the top of her head, her Batman pajama pants wrinkled, the Grateful Dead t-shirt hanging loosely off her shoulders. He thinks it’s funny that even though she kicked him out of her life, she still sleeps in the clothes he left.

“Fine.”

He follows her back to the dilapidated green couch where she broke the heart he didn’t even know he had. She’s folded herself into one corner, hands and feet tucked into her body, forehead resting sleepily on her knees.

“Well? Are you going to talk so I can go back to bed?” she mumbles.

The speech that he had prepared while driving to her apartment dries up in his throat and all he can think of is three words.

“I love you,” he finally chokes out.

Anna looks up just long enough to send a twisted little smirk his way.

“No, you don’t.”