Thin thread

Jannah

"You fucking bastard," I can feel the veins along my wrists bulge against my skin as I tighten my fist, my eyes narrowed into slits while my chest rises and falls in a hurried rhythm, as I glare at the object of my anger.

If I don't call him an actor, I don't know what else I would. He's still looking at me like he's confused and I'm crazy. He tucks his left hand into his pocket and takes a few steps back without actually turning around, his fingers wrapped tightly around his briefcase.

His action leaves me momentarily speechless, and my frown softens into a "really?" look. Does this dude think I want to rob him? Well, that's just crazy. I'm almost tempted to crack a smirk, but I slide my tongue against my teeth and click my tongue afterward before I take three steps forward.

He can act all he wants, but he's not getting away this time. I'll make sure of that.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. For a split second, I wonder if it's even worth confronting him, but I know I can't let it slide anymore. This has gone on long enough.

The frustration that's been building up for days or maybe even months is ready to spill out, and I know I need to say everything that's been on my mind. I can't keep this bottled up anymore.

"You know, I've been thinking about that night-at the company's dinner. The way you left so suddenly, like you knew I was there and just vanished. Like I didn't even exist," I say icily. My fingers loosen from the tight ball they were wrapped in, the urge to poke his chest more pressing than ever.

I pause for a moment, letting my words sink in. From the way he looks at me, it feels like he's studying me more than listening.

I decide to ignore the way those brown eyes trail after me like they're trying to capture every curve on my face, every rigid line of my bones... like the nights I spent in his bed weren't enough to make him never forget me. I feel my face color in embarrassment and I look away, lowering my eyes.

Damn it! Can't he stop staring at me already?

I fold my arms over my chest and tip my chin up before I flip my hair.

"And let's not pretend like we weren't anything in Mexico either. I mean, yeah, we weren't dating, but after everything that happened, I thought there would be some kind of closure when you ghosted me. Some explanation. I thought, at least, you'd show some decency."

The words feel bitter as they tumble out of my mouth. Whatever fatigue that left me tired had been pushed into somewhere distant. My rage has taken over my senses. I mean, I'm standing in five-inch heels and I don't mind. That's definitely some anger.

His eyes widen slightly, like he's caught off guard, and he opens his mouth, his eyes drawing back into their normal size but then closes it again. His brows furrow, and the lines along his forehead crease when he runs a hand through his hair.

He looks... tired, confused.

Bullshit.

"I didn't mean to ghost you," he says slowly, his voice softer now. "I just... I didn't know what to say."

I cross my arms, feeling the weight of everything I've been holding in press against my chest. It's hard to believe this is the best he can come up with. I arch my left brow then roll my eyes.

"You didn't know what to say?" I scoff, throwing my arms to my side before I let out a mirthless chuckle, shaking my head in disbelief.

"Really? 'Cause you were all over me in Mexico, and then you just vanish. No explanation, nothing. Just silence. That's not how it works, Ethan-or should I say Clinton? Maybe you have too many names to keep track of." I suck in my lower lip before I wipe off the sweat above my upper lip.

He runs a hand through his hair, the tension between us thickening. "I'm sorry," he says finally, his voice hurried as he sighs. "I didn't mean for you to feel like that. I just... got caught up with everything." His eyes meet mine for a minute, and they still have that observant look in them.

I shift my weight to my left foot, my lips pressed into a tight line. Note to future self: next time, date for personality, not... whatever the hell this is.

I have a lot at the tip of my tongue to lash at him. Caught up? In what exactly? I try not to let my anger get the best of me, but damn, I'm so tired of these fucking games.

He still looks confused. He has this far-off look as his eyes dart around like he's trying to piece it together, but I can see his expression shifting. A small flicker of realization crosses his face, like something's dawning on him.

"I... should've handled it better. I was such an asshole, really. I'm really sorry, um..." His sentence trails off where he's supposed to mention my name, and I feel the heat rise to my cheeks, silent resentment brewing in the pit of my stomach. So he forgot my name too? Is this really happening?

God, Kait is going to have a good laugh over this.

"I shouldn't have disappeared like that," he says, his tone now more earnest, like he's actually trying to make up for it.

But I don't buy it. Not completely. He's still giving me that 'I don't know what you're talking about' vibe, even if he's apologizing.

I don't have time for this. I just need him to own it, to stop acting like everything's a misunderstanding. If he truly cared, this wouldn't be so complicated.

"I..." His words trail off.

"It's Jannah, by the way. Go on," I say. Now, I realize I might have underestimated how this day would unfold.