Running Scared

         Her heart pounded as she tucked herself into a dark corner. Her eyes snapped shut, hoping if she couldn’t see him maybe he couldn’t see her. She’d spent this much time not seeing him; it would be such a shame to end it now.
         She heard his urgent heavy footsteps and could tell which shoes he was wearing. The footsteps slowed as they grew louder, finally stopping and she knew she’d been found. She could have sworn she heard his lips curl into a smile. She frowned in response and reluctantly opened her eyes. Even in the dimly lit hall with shadows cast on his face she noticed things about him right away.
         His dark hair had grown out and fell into his eyes, he’d lost a few pounds, he smelt like cigarettes, and his eyes were tired and empty. His voice was different too, rougher and sadder. “Who are you running from Tilly?”
         The way he said her name hadn’t changed, it brought back a flood of memories. The first time they’d met, the first time he’d introduced her to his friends, the way he whispered it in her ear the first time they’d made love, and the condescending way it had spilt from his lips when they fought so much towards the end. The bitter memories shook her from her thoughts. “No one,” she replied stiffly.
         “For someone who ain’t running, you’ve done a hell of a job covering your tracks.”
         She pushed passed him, out of the corner she’d trapped herself in. “For someone I don’t have anything to do with anymore, you sure did a great job of tracking me down.”
         “You want to know what I think, Til?”
         She laughed a bit, it was dry and forced, “Let’s be real Xander, you’re going to tell me whether I want you to or not.” She glanced around before picking a direction and walking in it, knowing he’d follow her and only half-hoping he wouldn’t.
         “You are running. You’re not running from someone, but you’re running scared. Because that’s what you do, things get rough and you run until you feel safe. You used to run to me, and then when we got rough you ran to Tom—he fell through and you don’t know where to run. So you’re just running.”
         “You think you know me so well,” she muttered.
         “I know,” he corrected her. “I know that I know you so well.” He said it so seriously that it unnerved her. “I know you better than anyone because whether you like it or not you gave me a part of you and I gave you a part of me, no refunds, money-back guarantee, or exchange. I’ve got you, I’ll always have you.”
         She wondered if he knew that he could still break her heart and that’s why he was talking to her this way. Out of spite for her leaving. She shook her head, willing herself to get angry rather than sad. “I hate you,” she spat out as if the words were venom. She wanted to hurt him just like he hurt her. If he had all that power over her it was only fair she take a bit back.
         Suddenly he moved towards her and she felt her back against the wall of the corridor, his hands on her waist pinning her in place. “Yeah, I imagine you hate me as much as I hate you right now.” He said, despite the position they were in, his voice was gentler than it had been. She bit her lip before leaning up to press her mouth against his. Hating him because she could never really hate him.