Jan. Week 3: Monday--afternoon--Leah denies Nathan's Advances (Luck: +20, Silence: -25)

For a moment, Leah just stared at him, silently screaming at her own self for ever being dumb enough to indulge him in the first place. She thought of the thousand ways she could crush his hopes without making this more excruciating than it already was. She could say she had a meeting. She could say Jonathan was waiting for her in the parking lot. She could say she was on her period. She could say she’d been fired already and that security was on its way.

“Nathan,” she said, voice low and even, “I can’t. Not right now.”

Nathan stood there, wringing the strap of his knockoff backpack in his hands, looking equal parts hopeful and mortified, and the part of her that still had a soul just couldn’t bring itself to go nuclear on him. Not yet.

She gathered her things as slowly as possible, hoping he’d get the hint. He did not. He just cycled through awkward silences, side-stepping like he was trying to dodge sniper fire.

“I just—if you could maybe help me, it’d really mean a lot. I’m sorry. I know it’s not, like, normal. I just can’t stop thinking about you—uh I mean it—um you know. I won’t tell anyone. I swear.”

Leah found herself nearly laughing.

“Nathan. I can’t. Not today. I… I really have to go.” She zipped her purse and made a show of stacking her folders, never meeting his eyes.

Nathan’s face fell; the color drained from his cheeks.

“Oh,” he said. “Right. Sorry. I just thought—maybe if you had nothing after school—” He trailed off, looking so small and out of place that, for a fleeting second, Leah pitied him.

“Nathan. Go home,” she said. There was no edge to it, just exhaustion.

“Will you… could we… maybe next time?” He lingered, **** and crumbling.

“Maybe next time Nathan.” Leah said as she ushered him out of her door as she scrambled toward her car.