Amber felt stupid. Chasing a guy was not her style, and now standing outside Jack’s apartment door, she knew she looked like the quintessential stalker. It didn’t help matters that she drove over on impulse, having just left the gym. So my hair and makeup aren’t perfect, she thought. So what? She raised her hand to knock again and sighed, thinking, I should have called.
No, what she should have done is waited for him to call back. But I told him I would call when I was ready. Her self-imposed and arbitrary deadline had passed, though, without her calling, and by all rights the ball was in his court. She guessed Jack wasn’t the ball-playing type. He’s also not home.
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