Page 71 of Let You Love Me

“What the hell does that mean?” I snap.

“Maybe you just need to give this time. It was your idea to do the friend thing, so take a step back and give her some space. Don’t take her silence personally. When she’s ready to be friendly again, she’ll find you.”

“So, just do nothing?” I stare at the door to the dorms, mulling this over.

“Yeah. She has a child, remember? There’s a lot going on in her life. She might need more time to process, or maybe she’s just busy. Maybe she’s not getting enough sleep or it’s her time of the month or she’s exhausted from potty training. There are a million reasons she might have to keep her distance, and you pushing her won’t help.”

Fuck, Brynn’s right.

I need to take a step back.

“Put the ball in her court,” I say.

“Exactly. From the sounds of it, she knows where you stand, so let her work through whatever is going on and I guarantee she’ll come back around. Sometimes persistence means patience.”

“Damn. You’re good at this.”

“Duh.” I can practically hear her eye roll over the phone, and it makes me smile.

From here on out, patience is my middle fucking name.

“Teagan!”

I pause, frozen at the sound of her voice. I’m almost afraid to turn around and look in case it’s not her and instead it’s some sort of mirage or my brain playing tricks on me.

Several heartbeats later, I hear my name again and I pivot. A vise grips my chest at the sight of Lane hurrying to catch up with me. Two cups of coffee are clutched in her hands, her auburn locks trailing over her shoulders as she spans the distance.

Relief unfurls inside of me, spanning the length of my body like a growing vine as I wait, hands tucked into the pockets of my jeans.

She inhales, slightly winded from her jaunt across campus as she steps in front of me. “Shit,” she breathes. “Maybe I need to start working out.”

My lips quirk, and when I take a quick inventory of her in black leggings and a loose-fitting Wildcats T-shirt that falls off one shoulder, I beg to differ. She’s nothing short of perfect.

I meet her eyes once again, and her cheeks flush. “Hey,” I say as if the last five days she’s been avoiding me haven’t been pure torture.

“Hey.” She offers me a soft smile.

“Tired?” I motion toward the cups in her hands.

“Oh.” She jolts, as if remembering them and holds one out. “This one’s for you.”

I arch a brow. “You bought me a coffee?”

“Yeah.” She shrugs, and I take the offered cup. Our fingers brush, and I marvel at the resulting sparks from the simplecontact. “Consider it a peace offering since I had to switch my schedule and haven’t seen you all week. I felt bad you went looking when I wasn’t there, and, well . . . I feel bad about hardly texting you back. I’ve just been so busy and—”

“Lane?” I dip my head, catching her eye again.

“Yeah?” she whispers, dark lashes fluttering.

“Breathe.” My lips quirk as she audibly exhales.

“Right. Sorry.” She reaches into the front pocket of her messenger bag and pulls out a little baggy filled with creamer and sugar packets. “I wasn’t sure how you took your coffee, so . . .”

“This is perfect,” I say, raising my cup. “So, does this mean you’re done avoiding me?”

“I wasn’t—” She bites her lip, cutting off her words. “Okay, maybe Iwasavoiding you a little.”

At least she’s honest.