Chapter 70 CHAPTER SEVENTY

Chapter 70 CHAPTER SEVENTY
 EVA’S POV

Eva: I’m sorry I don’t think we can meet up today.

My fingers were still hovering over the keypad when a new message from Josh popped in. My heart immediately missed a beat as I read the message quicker than intended.

Josh: Where are you?

I bit my lip in guilt as I quickly typed a message in response.

Eva: Peter’s driving me home.

He read the message almost immediately but even when five minutes passed, I didn’t get a response.

And then ten minutes.

And then the entire drive home.

“Why are you pouting?” Peter asked as he pulled over. “Were your exams hard today?”

“No,” I reached for my bag and then unclasped my seatbelt, sparing him a glare as I did. “They were great.”

“The look on your face tells a different story though.”

I didn’t reply to him, instead reaching for the door to step out of his car. I slammed the door and, ignoring his words, stormed into the house.

I couldn’t tell him the truth so it was best I remained silent.

I went straight upstairs to my room, dropping my bag on the floor before throwing myself onto my bed, my phone immediately finding its way into my hands again.

Nothing.

I refreshed my messages even though I knew that was completely useless, staring at the last message I had sent Josh as if somehow a response would magically appear if I looked at it long enough.

There was still nothing.

“Okay,” I muttered to myself, dropping my phone beside me. “He's probably just busy.”

Except I knew he wasn't. He definitely wasn’t. He had wanted us to meet up so he clearly wasn’t busy.

I picked up my phone again.

Still nothing.

I sighed and tossed it onto the other side of the bed before sitting up, deciding that if I continued staring at my screen, I was never going to get anything done.

I had exams and that was what I needed to focus on. Not Josh.

I pulled my books out and settled at my desk, forcing myself to go through the notes I had made earlier, and for the first twenty minutes, I actually managed to concentrate. Then I reached for my phone and once again, my face fell.

Still no message.

I put it down. Read another page then picked it up again.

Still nothing.

I frowned at the screen, dropped it back onto the table and tried to continue studying, but my mind kept wandering back to the parking lot, to the way I had been standing there waiting for him, and then to Peter suddenly appearing and taking me home before Josh could even get to me.

Maybe he was mad.

I bit the inside of my cheek.

Maybe he thought I had left because I didn't want to see him. Because I didn't want to talk to him after what happened.

Which wasn't true.

If anything, I had wanted to see him too much. I wanted to talk about what happened. We had been dating for barely a week and the thought of us already fighting unsettled me in ways I couldn’t explain.

I picked up my phone again, opened our messages and stared at the empty space underneath my last text.

I could just send another message. Something simple.

Are you okay?

Or maybe—

Are you mad at me?

My thumb hovered over the keypad.

I stared at the words for a few seconds before deleting them.

No, I wasn't going to do that. I had already told him what happened and he was to understand. If he truly wanted to talk to me, he could always text. Even better, he knew exactly where to find me.

I locked my phone and placed it face down. This time, I forced myself to leave it there. At least until I was satisfied with how far I’d studied for the night.

I sighed, closing my books and stretching my arms above my head. Despite almost loosing my mind, I’d managed to read for a couple of hours and finally needed a break.

I left my room and headed downstairs. To my surprise, Peter was sprawled across the couch with the television playing loudly in front of him.

It wasn’t a sight I got to witness often. But since he had a week without practice, he was clearly taking advantage of it to the fullest.

And I couldn’t help but wonder if Josh was doing the same.

“You’re finally out,” he glanced at me the moment I walked into the living room. “Still pouting?”

I rolled my eyes and walked over, dropping onto the couch beside him without answering. He looked at me for a few seconds before turning his attention back to the television.

“Okay.”

I crossed my arms, staring at the TV screen, barely paying any attention. I could feel him glancing at me one more time before he spoke up again.

“I'm ordering pizza. Hungry?”

I looked at him and simply shrugged.

“That means yes then,” he picked up his phone. “I’m ordering peperoni so if you aren’t in the mood to eat it you can just as well go to bed now.”

He knew peperoni was my least favorite kind and the easiest way to get me to speak to him. But all I did was sigh, lean back into the couch and let my eyes drift towards the television even though I still wasn’t paying attention to whatever was playing.

“It should be here in fifteen minutes.”

“Okay.”

He looked at me again. “You're really quiet today. Did something happen at school?”

“No, I’m just tired,” I was about to reach for my phone again only to realize I left it upstairs. Immediately, I groaned again, drawing a hand over my face. “I hate exams.”

“It would be over in four days,” he replied me. “And Caleb’s throwing a party on Friday night to celebrate so you can tag along if you want.”

“Yeah,” I looked at him and managed a smile. “Thanks.”

He nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer. He then returned his gaze to the TV and almost immediately, the doorbell rang.

“Oh, the pizza’s here already? Well, that was quick.”

I didn't need him to ask me, another groan escaping my lips as I got up from the couch and walked towards the front door to get my least favourite kind of pizza.

But as I reached for the door knob and twisted it open, standing in front of me wasn’t a pizza delivery man.

But Josh.