Chapter Six: Did You Remember, when we met?
Part Two: I wanted to forget.
Holly was still deciding if she was thrilled to see Jonathan again or upset that he was going to let her just vanish again, perhaps forever, without acknowledging they even knew each other. It felt socially indecent at best. He had once upon a time been someone she felt she could open up to about anything, though now that feeling was long gone, replaced by uncertainty.
"So it seems." Jonathan stated dryly. He pulled the paper from under her hands in one swift tug. Filing it away with a growing stack of failed others. As if sensing she had burning questions, he set the red pen neatly aside, steepled his hands, and left the task until this encounter ended. The sooner he got the conversation over with the sooner he assumed he'd be rid of her.
Her lips pursed, shoulders lifted as she breathed in but it all came tumbling down with an exasperated breath. She pushed back from the desk, "Well. Fuck."
His nose crinkled faintly as she swore, "Still have that nasty habit of swearing I see."
"Only when I'm irritated." Especially at herself.
"A common response, unsavory nonetheless."
Holly glared then rolled her eyes, "It's not so common that friends find each other by chance after, what, seven years-"
"Five."
"Five, years. Jonathan. Were you really not going to say anything?" She tried to keep from sounding identical to an upset girlfriend. And maybe she would have noticed that he corrected her about the time they'd last seen each other if she was not so upset herself.
His shoulders softened a bit and he leaned into the chair no longer expecting this to be quick, "I was but-"
She cut him off, "But you said my surname, out of bad habit I suspect." He did it to everyone when she knew him before, even if they were on a first-name basis he had this habit to be more formal than necessary. Holly was not going to listen to an excuse and her anger had prompted her to speak boldly despite their previous conversation during Haas's lecture that left her with a feeling of caution. She was dismissing that knot in her stomach for feelings of familiarity, for ones of anxiety even with his could-care-less attitude and her own misplaced anger rather than danger.
His chest rose then fell with a calming breath, "As true as that may be," he casually admitted to the folly with a nod of his head, "If you did not remember me then I was not going to try and pursue a conversation, we both have our own lives to see to, Holly. It is not as if we ever exchanged numbers nor planned to see each other outside tutoring those three muscle heads."
"You sound like you're mad I never said goodbye." She knew that he probably was not and likely she was mistaking an irritated tone for something else along with projecting her own state of mind in the moment. They had hardly known each other to the point she was not sure now if they had even been friends all those years ago. And he'd made a very valid point just then.
"Would it hurt your feelings to know that's wholly untrue?" Jesus, she thought, was he always this brutally honest?
Holly folded her arms, "A little."
"I thought briefly on what became of you." The honesty stung her.
"Comforting, thanks."
"You're most welcome." He smiled. It was small and fake, nevertheless, practice had made it reach his eyes. And it took her aback, she felt disarmed of her anger and hurt. She'd never seen him smile that she could remember. Not like that at least.
"Your sarcastic nature never ceased to amaze me," even she could tell her tone changed, it had lost all its bite. After a short pause she added, "my boss wanted me to invite you for coffee, an apology for taking your projector." She averted her eyes, shifted her weight, and returned her gaze to him.
"No thank you." He politely refused with a smile still on his face.
She didn't like it. That smile twisted the knot in the pit of her stomach further. Her hair was raising the longer he held that face, "Well. Alright. Take care, Jonathan." She needed to quickly leave. Every sense in her body was fighting to not suddenly turn pale or worse vomit.
"Actually, Miss Kingsley," his voice stopped her at the door with her hand just falling upon the knob, "perhaps we should catch up with one another. How about next weekend? Saturday." She chanced to turn her head over a shoulder, he had gone back to whatever papers he'd been looking at, "The tenth, nine am. That diner you used to work for is still in operation."
"Sure." She was out that door before he could breathe, let alone say another word. Down the hall away from the exit she rounded the corner to the nearest woman's restroom in urgency. All but kicking in the closest stall and retching nothing beyond spit and stomach acid. She stayed on her knees for a few minutes riding out the nausea that followed until the door was opened.
"Hey, you good?" It was a student, probably, with a voice that gave Holly flashbacks of Stacey, "Cause I can like... get someone. Or?" Albeit a kinder version of Stacey.
Holly nodded, pulling down the toilet lever, "I'm fine, just a bad lunch." Lying through her teeth with ease she smiled just as falsely.
We Were Never Friends
The notion was stupid. Coffee? No matter how he wanted to sate the curiosity of what befell her, it was not like he desired to revisit getting to know the woman. So he kept the smile to show he appreciated the gesture as a normal person should, even as he absolutely found her wasting his time.
Did she flinch? Her gaze had adverted when she asked, arms unconsciously tucking tighter, obviously being defensive, "No thank you." He replied without much thought. Holly resembled a deer about to jump into the proverbial street. Because he refused? No, it was not that. The woman was unlikely to care about that. Not unless something in her life had been truly traumatic in the last five years.
She was quick to say a goodbye then bolt for the door, "Actually, Miss Kingsley," he caught her before the sound of those awful heels passed from his doorway, "perhaps we should catch up with one another. How about next weekend? Saturday." What frightens you these days? Was it something I said? "The tenth, nine am. That diner you used to work for is still in operation." He had after all at one point started a paper on her. Jonathan hoped to find it a thought-provoking distraction to the ire growing for the increasingly stupid students he kept finding in his class. One day he might just shoot one of them.
