Just One of the Guys

Corbin

"Averi, wait," he finally says, and I hear him take a few steps, but his voice isn't loud enough for him to have come too close. "Please don't go."

I stop but I can't bring myself to turn around. I can feel the heat in my cheeks from embarrassment. I don't need him to see me looking like a tomato and further add to my current embarrassment. So, instead, I stare down at a root that's protruding from the ground.

"Please, don't be mad at me," he pleads. "Any red-blooded guy would have had the same reaction to making out with a hot girl."

*I'm not upset with him.*

*I'm freaking embarrassed as hell.*

"Averi, please. Don't leave like this. Are you mad that I pulled away, stopped things from escalating?" He's now standing right behind me, his body heat warming me from the cold surrounding us.

I hold up a finger to stop him from coming any closer. I hear him, and I will answer, but I need to get the embarrassment under control and pray that when I turn around, I'll no longer be beet red. "Will you look at me? Please?" He sounds upset, but he shouldn't.

Breathing in deeply through my nose and then blowing out through my mouth, I shove my embarrassment down; the heat encompassing my entire body has begun to cool down a few degrees as well.

After a few more sets of the breathing techniques, the therapist at the FBI office showed me how to do it, after they evaluated me before sending me away, as they had needed to make sure I wasn't a risk to myself or someone else. Even with the panic attack that I had when I tried talking about what happened, about what I saw.

Apparently, they didn't deem me a risk. Suicide is not something that has ever crossed my mind; hopefully it's not something that I ever have firsthand experience with.

And the other...not after...no, I couldn't.

After one last breath in, I turn around to face him as I exhale, feeling much more like myself and much less like I'm at risk of resembling Satan's daughter. Knox stands maybe a foot from me, his hair in disarray but I'm not sure if it's from my hands or his.

His eyes look almost haunted as he searches my face.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, looking away from me for just a second and then quickly closing the last bit of space between us, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, and pulling my body flush with him, his face buried against my neck. "I'm so sorry,” he whispers into my ear.

Unable to hold it in any longer, I burst out laughing.

He pulls away from me, looking at me as if I've lost my ever-loving-mind, and hell, maybe I have. Who knows?

"I'm sorry..." I say between howls of laughter, unable to contain it. This is what happens when I get overly embarrassed. I turn into a giggle monster.

"You okay there?" he asks, shock and confusion staring back at me.

"I'm...yes..." I say, and then let out another peal of laughter. "I think so..." I tell him and then snort as I crouch down close to the ground, trying to get myself under control.

"Averi..." he says, kneeling down and reaching his hand out and placing it beneath my chin. When I'm finally able to look at him, he's staring at me like he doesn't know what to make of my outburst.

Holding out a finger again, I take a deep breath, trying to stifle the laughter that keeps trying to work its way out of me.

"I'm sorry," I say, reaching out to grasp his hand and standing up. "When I get embarrassed...sometimes *that* happens."

"I thought you were upset...wait, why are you embarrassed?"

"Because that just went from **oh shit, are you okay?'* because I'd racked you to...*that*," I say, throwing my hand out to indicate what happened back where we were before.

"You weren't wrong to stop things from going further," I tell him, looking into his eyes, trying to get a read on what he's feeling, thinking. "I got caught up but I'm not ready for-" I cut off with a shrug, letting him fill in the blanks. "I like you, but we're still just getting to know one another. I don't want to rush anything. I don't want to regret..." Again, another shrug, unable to fully get out what I'm trying to say.

He nods in understanding. "You don't want to regret me," he says to my horror.

*That's not what I...actually, I guess it is. Isn't it?*

"I don't want to regret doing something that I'm not ready for, resulting in likely regretting you," I tell him, honestly. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for I'm glad that you were honest with me about it." he says.

After a few moments, seemingly lost in thought he speaks up again, "I'm sorry, too. The things that I said to you, I shouldn't have said any of that to you." The reminder of his very graphic texts causes me to blush.

"Did you mean it?" I ask, curious. The things he said, described, I wouldn't mind his words becoming a reality one day: just not any time in the near future.

"I meant every word," he says, lifting his left hand to cup my cheek. His thumb trails beneath my bottom lip as he looks deep into my eyes, wanting me to see the sincerity of his words. "One day when you're ready-I can be a patient man." "So, this isn't just because..." I give another shoulder shrug, not wanting to insult him, but needing things to be clear. I shouldn't even be entertaining the idea of a relationship in any form. But there's something that draws me to Knox, even if he's sometimes an ass to my alter ego. "Sex?"

If I'm going to entertain the idea of something with him, I just need to be clear on his intentions.

"No," he says very matter of fact and then states with no hesitation whatsoever, "I like you, too. I don't want to fuck this up."

A weight that I hadn't realized was there, lifts from my shoulders at his words.

*Thank God.*

"Can we maybe start this evening over?" he asks, breaking through my inner monologue and chuckling sheepishly as he brushes his fingers through his already tousled locks and then down his face like he's trying to wipe away everything that's happened the last twenty minutes or so.

He turns around and jogs away, back down the trail heading in the direction that he came from earlier. I stand there, watching his retreating form completely confused.

The further away from me he gets, the more hurt and angrier I become.

*What the hell?*

When he keeps jogging away from me and through the trees to where I can no longer see him.

"Bye to you too, asshole!" I mutter as I turn back around, heading back down the trail in the direction that I had earlier come.

When I reach the bench that's sitting just outside of the dormitory, I take a seat. Leaning forward and burying my face in my hands, as anger begins to override any frustration and confusion that I'm feeling.

I clench my fingers, grasping the strands of hair at the front, where my bangs used to be, and pull.

*What the hell just happened?*

*He is such an asshole.*

*Why would he just take off like that?*

I try to think back on the last few minutes trying to figure out if I missed something, but nothing sticks out.

He asked me to not leave, to look at him and when I did, he apologized and asked if we could start over. *That was it.*

*There was nothing to miss.*

The feeling of wanting to punch something and scream rises within me, the anger so strong that I begin shaking.

*Screw him!*

Deciding that I'm just going to go back inside, scrap this whole screwed up interaction, hell this damn whole night, and go to bed, I stand up and start for the door.

*I have enough stress in my life.*

*I really don't need any more.*

*I knew this was stupid anyway.*

Opening the door to the dorms, I glance back in the direction that we were just at, but I still don't see him. Shaking my head, I cross the threshold, closing the door behind me determined that I'm done with this bullshit. Once I get inside my apartment, I lock the door, power down my phone and head to the shower, needing to wash it all away.

Stepping beneath the stream of water cascading down from the showerhead, I wet my hair down, letting the water trickle down over my face and use my hands to wipe away any evidence of the makeup that I had been wearing. The water is hot but doesn't help with releasing any of the pent-up anger that's continuing to build within me.

Striking out, I slam my fist into the stone shower wall. I hear something pop and pain radiate down my hand and it feels freaking good. Freaking amazing!

I strike out again and again at the wall, imagining that it's Knox's face. Then the face of the person that's after me. My knuckles are bruised and bleeding by the time I stop, the water cascading over me now as cold as it had been outside as the Connecticut winter bit into my bones.

I scream as the throbbing in my hand increases, now pissed that I'm going to have to get it checked out to make sure that nothings broken.

*I may have a damn broken hand and it's all because of a stupid freaking boy!*