For your highly independent nature, what was happening felt a bit uncomfortable and perhaps embarrassing. Yet, deep down, there was something about it that you liked. Watching Jake clean and bandage the cut on your index finger, a result of the knife from your disastrous attempt to help in the kitchen, felt strange.

You had insisted that you could handle it on your own, but there he was, taking care of you. He had always been like this, even from the beginning, when you were just acquaintances with mutual friends.

Yet, you remained convinced that being with him would only waste his time and deny him the chance to be with someone who truly deserved him. Your past struggles with love and other personal issues had made you close off to the idea of opening up to someone. And God, you knew how hard Jake tried to get close to you, but you always pushed him away.

You never answered his calls, and your messages were too brief when you did reply. You never accepted a date or any gifts. You talked only as much as necessary and tried to keep as much distance as possible from him. Why? Quite simple: because you knew that if you let your guard down even a little, you would end up hopelessly in love with him, and you didn’t want to allow that.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, looking up for a few brief seconds to meet your eyes. He gave you that look that made your legs weak. He turned his gaze back to your finger, gently placing a small bandage. “Whenever you’re this quiet and frowning, it’s because something you’re thinking about is bothering or tormenting you. Is something wrong?”