“No,” I rasp, my throat tight. “I don’t.” How long was I going to pretend that I didn’t want her? She’d invaded my thoughts, dreams, and senses for weeks. The harder I fought them, the stronger my feelings became. I think about how beautiful she looked tonight.
Beautiful and furious.
“Look, whatever it is that you feel for her, I don’t think it’s one-sided.” Callum stands and starts taking cash from his wallet. “Talk to her.”
“I don’t know what I feel. And I don’t know what I can offer her.”
“Whether you stay friends or get married, it all starts with a conversation.” He pats me on my back. “Alright. I’m all out of wisdom and I’ve got a date.”
“Just one?” I raise an eyebrow at him.
“It’s been a slow week.”
Callum leaves and I finish my beer alone. I try to conjure the words to make Betty forgive me. I don’t think a simple apology for acting like a dick is going to cut it this time. She’ll want to know why, and I’ll have to find a way to explain myself.
I spend the walk home working on what to say. I don’t know whether to wait until the morning to give us both a chance to cool off or talk to her tonight, but when I find myself in front of her door, I decide to go for it and knock. Regret fills me instantly, and I curse at myself. She might have taken him home with her and if she had, this interruption would just upset her more. I start to retreat to my place when the sound of her deadbolt clicks and the door inches open. A fragment of Betty’s face stares up at me through the crack, but she says nothing.
“I’m sorry.” After writing an entire speech in my head, that’s all that comes out of my mouth. She stares at me a moment more, then opens the door and walks back into her apartment. I follow her in, closing the door behind me. She disappears into the kitchen and when I follow, I find her turning off the kettle and pouring herself a cup of tea. She doesn’t offer me one. I try to figure out what to say next, but I’m distracted by the sight of her. Her brown hair is in a loose braid and some strands have escaped, softly framing her face. She’s wearing blue plaid pj pants and a Boston Celtics muscle tank. She is not wearing a bra and I have to tear my eyes away from her. Sometimes it hurts to look at her and at this moment, my entire body aches. She abandons her tea and hops up to sit on the counter facing me. We stare at each other, neither wanting to be the first to speak. I break first.
“I didn’t mean to ruin your night.” It’s the truth.
“You could have fooled me.”
“I’m not sure how to explain what came over me.”
“Try,” she says tightly. God, she’s gorgeous when she’s pissed.
I run my hands through my hair, exasperated. “I wasn’t expecting you to be on a date with some guy.”
“Andrew,” she corrects me.
“Andrew.” His name leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. “I didn’t like his vibe.”
“His vibe?”
“Yes. The way he looked at you. I didn’t like it.”
Her green eyes blaze.
“So, you interpreted his interest in me as some sort of character flaw?” There’s not only anger in her voice now, but hurt as well.
“What? No, I just—”
“Because if a guy wants to date me, there must be something wrong with him?”
“Betty, I didn’t—”
“Just because you don’t want me doesn’t mean no one will.”
I cross the room in two strides and place my hands on either side of her on the counter, caging her in.
“Who says I don’t want you?” My voice is low and even. Our faces are inches apart and we’re both breathing heavily. Her position on the counter makes us at the same eye level. She looks quickly at my lips, then back up to my eyes. Her eyes have lost some of their anger and are now filled with doubt.
“You… you’ve never wanted me,” she says quietly. My mouth is on hers before she can draw air. I hadn’t meant to kiss her so hard, but a need like I’ve never experienced has taken over. I step back to look at her, but her hands find my hair and pull me back to her with even more force than before. Her mouth is warm and wanting, opening for me without hesitation.
“Betty.” I groan, breaking away from her kiss and resting my forehead against hers. We both need to catch our breath. I cup her perfect face in my hand and stroke her cheek with my thumb. “This is a bad idea.”
“I know,” she says softly, then pulls her head back slightly, her eyes meeting mine. “Can we do it anyway?”
