He places his empty glass on the counter behind him and turns to look at me. With his eyes locked on mine, he runs his thumb over the corner of his mouth, and then he’s moving. But he doesn’t come my way. He walks right past me and heads toward the stairs, quickly glancing at me over his shoulder before making his way up. I clench my fists at my side. Frustration replaces the heat coursing inside me. Frustration that his reappearance in my life is making me question everything. Before I can think better of it, I make sure the coast is clear and take the stairs two at a time.
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