Hank seemed calmer, happier. He tipped his imaginary hat as he liked to do. “Thank you, Jeraline.”
“Of course. Friday’s my next shift. See you then?”
Hank nodded, happy. “See you Friday. I might have your painting ready for you by then.”
That perked me up. “Don’t rush, but that makes me so excited! I can’t wait to see it!”
Waving as he left, Hank walked a little prouder than normal.
Standing by the dumpster, holding my backpack, I didn’t need to go back inside. I could leave. It was for the best since I had left things as good as to be expected with Josh, and with all my insanity I didn’t want him to think less of me.
Because killing someone could definitely change one’s opinion.
Yeah.
Walking toward home, I had almost passed the bookstore when . . .
“Jeraline?” Josh’s voice called out to me.
Was this a fantasy? Was I making this up in my head? I couldn’t tell anymore.
Turning around, I saw Josh hurry to catch up to me. No declaration of love, no tuxedo or dance floor. It was real, which meant messing it up was still an option.
“Let me walk you home,” he offered with a grin.
Panic.
Observing my obviously conflicted expression, he added, “I’d feel better if you’d let me.”
Where was he last night?
But I decided to go with it. “Okay.”
Josh reared his head back slightly, as if he had been ready for a counterargument. “Oh . . . great. I had expected more of a fight.”
“Am I that horrible?” I asked in disgust at myself.
“Not horrible at all. Stubborn, you’re more stubborn I’d say.” He laughed.
We began our walk toward my apartment, and lo and behold . . .
No talking.
So uncomfortable.
I needed to do something. Small talk. Anything.
The silence was reaching sweaty palm levels.
Intervention needed to happen.
I should fall, trip, be clumsy, anything to break the tension.
But Josh decided to be blunt. “Do you not like me?”
Knots tied themselves over and over in my stomach. “No!” That was it. That was all I had to say about that apparently.
“No you don’t, or no you do?” Josh clarified like a normal human.
Which I wasn’t.
“I do like you.” Smooth.
“Because one minute we’re having awesome conversations, and the next you look at me like I’m a leper.” Josh said this lightheartedly, but I could tell it was laced with insecurity.
Because I was a horrible person.
“I . . . I didn’t mean . . . I just have trouble . . . talking . . . and there are other things . . .” Nobel laureate here.
Awkward silence.
Shocker.
The presence of the alley made itself known with a growling in the darkness as we arrived in front of it.
Shivering, Josh noticed the alley with trepidation. “You walk by here every night?”
The shadow of my attacker materialized in the blackness of the alley, and I jumped back, but he quickly disappeared. There was no way the alley would take this walk with Josh away from me. I wouldn’t let it.
“Are you okay? That’s the second time today you’ve jumped for no reason.” Josh looked at me with concern.
Trying to hide my terror and nerves, I explained in a lie. “Just nervous for . . .” Think of something. Think of something. “. . . the runway show.” Yes. Good one. “And I’m a bit odd around people I don’t know. I never quite fit in right.” I went for honesty.
And to my surprise, Josh answered, “Me too.”
“But you’re perfect,” I responded, appalled.
Oh God.
Kill me now.
“I mean, I don’t see that.”
“I’m far from perfect. I dropped out of college, live with my brother, and work retail all while trying to write a book that I’m pretty sure I’ll never finish because apparently I have zero self-discipline. Living the dream.” Josh sighed in frustration.
It made me laugh, which in turn made Josh laugh.
“I work retail too, you know.”
“But you seem to love it. Not the work, but being in the store, surrounded by books. I wish I had that same kind of passion, and I’m supposed to be the writer. I used to love books more than anything, and now I look at them and they just make me . . . jealous.” Josh’s expression was heartbroken, and all I wanted to do was make him feel better.
“Maybe the books remind you that you haven’t finished yours? Maybe if you let that guilt go, you could find your love of writing again?” What was I, a therapist? What on earth made me say that?
But Josh didn’t get defensive or lash out, he stared ahead, contemplative. “That actually makes a lot of sense.” Passing the alley, Josh asked, “Do you live by yourself?”
“No, I live with my grandma. I have since I was nineteen.”
“That’s sweet. What about your parents? Do they live nearby?” Josh asked innocently.
“My parents died, another reason I live with Grams.” Why did I tell him that? I was getting way too personal. Someone please stick a piece of duct tape on my mouth.
“I’m sorry . . . I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault. They were killed in a mass shooting at a grocery store.” Stop talking!
Halting in his tracks, Josh’s entire body language changed. He lifted his hand, reaching for mine.
Was he was going to try to comfort me?
A gunshot rang in my ear.
Josh’s face morphed into my attacker.
Luckily, I snapped out of it and pretended not to see his offered hand. “My grandma is great. I’m lucky to have her.”
Josh took his hand back, his eyes downcast, then responded, “Yeah.”
“Well, this is it.”
We stood in front of my apartment building.
Josh reached down to the ground and picked up a penny, handing it to me. “For luck.” He gently squeezed my hand shut over the penny.
Knees. Numb. Going to pass out.
I turned my head and stepped toward the door of my building. “Thanks for walking me home.”
“Anytime.” Josh smiled.
Another awkward moment, shuffling. What was wrong with me? I had to get inside before I ruined everything.
Waving nonchalantly, I opened the door to
