Free Complicated by Claire Kent

something intelligent to say.
    “Hi,” she said stupidly.
    His mouth twitched very slightly. “Hi. I
thought I recognized the sound of your footsteps.”
    Frowning, she demanded, “What do my
footsteps sound like? I walk just like everyone else.”
    “No, you don’t.”
    “Yes, I do. What do they sound like?” It was
a ridiculous conversation, but she felt compelled to find out how her footsteps
differed from everyone else’s. She tended to walk fairly quickly, but surely
that wasn’t enough to make her stride recognizable.
    “I don’t think I’ll tell you.” His smile was
easy, warm but just slightly poignant. And it crinkled the corners of his mouth
and his eyes.
    She didn’t understand his expression at all.
    Victoria experienced a sudden wave of
annoyance. What was he doing here, anyway? She had just determined to get over
him, and he showed up out of the blue, being obnoxiously smug and smiling at
her like that.
    Kind of possessive. Kind of tender.
    The implications terrified her, and her
reaction to fear was always resentment.
    She hated being afraid.
    So she scowled at him. “What are you doing
here?”
    “I’m here to see you. I thought that should
have been obvious. Believe it or not, I don’t hang out at university libraries
just for fun.”
    His glibness irritated her even more, and
her scowl tightened into a cold glare. “Why did you want to see me?”
    She wished she looked better. She hadn’t
spent much time on her appearance lately. Her hair was pulled back in a chignon
that was more severe than she usually wore, with no loose strands to soften the
look. She was wearing her glasses, and she had on a dark blue suit. The jacket
was fitted and the skirt reached mid-calf but it wasn’t as distinctive or flattering
as most of her other outfits.
    She must look like the spinster librarian
everyone tried to stereotype her as.
    Everyone but Greg.
    “I thought maybe we could talk,” he said,
his forehead wrinkling as if he were confused. “Is there somewhere we could
go?”
    They could go to her office, but she didn’t
want him there. She was supposed to be getting over him, and this would already
set her back a full two weeks. “Not really. And I don’t know what we need to
talk about anyway.”
    “Are you angry with me for some reason?” He
took a step closer to her, his brown eyes scrutinizing her face.
    “No.” She had to look away from his
familiar, observant expression. She used to feel a secret thrill when he looked
at her like that—thrilled at the idea that someone cared enough about how she
felt to try to understand what she was thinking.
    Now it just made her belly clench with
anxiety. She was disoriented and confused, and she wanted to lash out at Greg
for making her feel this way. “I just don’t like personal stuff interfering
with work.”
    “Oh.” He frowned slightly. “I could stop by
your apartment after work, if you’d rather.”
    “No!” The word came out too sharply, and a
few people glanced over at her in curiosity.
    Flushing with embarrassment, Victoria was
slammed with another wave of annoyance. “Why do we need to talk at all? I
thought things were settled between us.”
    She couldn’t stand to look at him anymore so
she walked distractedly over to a cart of books that needed to be reshelved.
She fiddled with them, pretending to put them in order just so she could do
something with her hands.
    Greg stepped over until he was beside her,
and he tilted his head to study her tense face. “You are angry with me.”
    “I’m not angry,” she bit out.
    Why, oh why, wouldn’t he just go away? He
would just make everything worse.
    Just make her tangibly recognize everything
she could never have.
    “Victoria,” he murmured, his voice huskier
than before. He gently put his hand on her forearm, “Tell me why you’re angry.”
    She couldn’t tell him—couldn’t tell him
anger was the only way she could defend herself from the flood of emotions she
felt when