“I don’t want tea. I didn’t ask for tea and you know it. Dammit, look at me!” I took her by the shoulders and spun her around. It was a mistake. Not because of the antagonism that we used to revel in. Touching her riled up all the other feelings I’d been trying to control. I wanted to kiss her and hug her and make her laugh and go take a nap with her so I could curl up around her. “What’s the matter, Mona? I just don’t know what’s going on. What happened?”
She shrugged my hands off and picked up the teapot to rinse it out. “Nothing. Nothing’s going on. I did you a favor and pretended to be your girlfriend for the weekend, and now we’re back to normal. That’s it. I don’t know why you think it’s anything else.”
“So, you admit to going away with me. I thought you were pretending that The Virgin Islands was a figment of my imagination. But no, you admit it actually happened.”
“Of course it did, you jackass” she snapped. She was peeved. She went to the counter and opened up a jar of dried leaves and flowers, scooping tea into the teapot. “I’m not delusional. We went away.”
“And is that all that happened? We just went away?” I had to laugh.
She turned back to face me, finally. “What do you want me to say? What happened in the Virgin Islands stays in the Virgin Islands, remember? I know you’re self-centered, but do you think you can just change our agreement without my say-so. Those were the rules.”
“I don’t—” That wasn’t what I wanted at all but she was right. Those were the ground rules she’d laid out. That was what she’d asked for. I had agreed because I thought I could get her to fall for me, and she wouldn’t want to follow those rules anymore. I wanted her to love me. I thought somewhere inside of her, she did love me. But here she was, ready to pick up fighting the way we used to instead of talking about what was happening between us. “Mona . . .”
“Mona what? What do you want from me?”
I wanted everything.
But she, apparently, didn’t. Her face was closed. Tight. She blinked and shook her head. “I thought we were supposed to be friends. Believe it or not, I do value you, as a friend. And maybe I don’t want to ruin that.”
I leaned up against her refrigerator, feeling like I’d gotten the wind knocked out of me. I don’t know why I was surprised. She’d made it clear, hadn’t she, with the way she left it? On the island, we were hot and passionate, but once we left, we were nothing. Just buds. I swallowed back a wave of nausea. Then, I nodded. “Right. We are friends. We don’t need to fight anymore. And you don’t need to avoid me like the plague. Right?”
“The plague? You flatter yourself.”
“Ah. You still know how to deflate my ego. I am worse than the plague.” My ego and my heart were pretty much flattened right now.
“I pride myself on putting you in your place.”
“Yes. You can put me wherever you want me.”
Her dark eyes flashed for a moment. As if she knew I meant something more than what the words said. I did. She was right. I never could hide my selfish urges from her. She had always been able to see into me. I hadn’t liked that once upon a time, but now? I wished she’d never stop looking at me, really seeing me. But she wanted to be friends. If that’s what she wanted, that’s what I’d do. I’d still have her, at least as a friend, and that was almost good enough. And maybe just being her friend she’d come to love me the way I loved her. We’d had a real connection. I was sure. Maybe it wasn’t what I wanted, but it was real.
“So,” I moved on. “Do friends sit and talk about their week over tea?”
She scowled at me suspiciously. “Yes, that sounds like a friendly thing.”
“And cookies.”
“Excuse me?”
“Tea and cookies. I’d like to sit and talk to you over tea and cookies. You do have cookies, don’t you? Sugar, butter, flour, maybe some chocolate? You can offer your guest some cookies. Not everything you eat is made out of rabbit food is it?”
She rolled her eyes. “You are so stupid.” But as she went to the cupboard and pulled a tin out, I caught the tilt of her smile. She was still my friend at least. I repressed the sigh of relief.
“Chocolate chip,” she said. “The good stuff. Lissie won’t eat them because they’re not vegan, but I have to hide them from Duke. The man will eat everything.”
“And you trust me with them?”
“Yes,” she said, handing them to me. A flash of fear crossed her face, then she ducked her head. “Go sit down in the living room, and I’ll put the kettle on for our tea.
I did as she directed. I was going to do it all as she directed. I would let her lead wherever our relationship went. I sat on the sofa with the tin on my lap and waited for her to join me.
She stopped in the doorway and took a visible breath before she looked at me, then looked at the tin, then wrinkled her nose. She shook her head and grinned, walking over to sit next to me. Everything she did fascinated me. She sat next to me and took the tin.
“Were you afraid I would yell at you again if you opened it?”
“No.” I had to be honest. “I like it when you yell at me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Stop.” She opened the tin and held it out to me until I took one. She took one, too, and then held it up like a prize. “To friendship,” she said. She tapped my cookie with hers. “A toast.”
“A toast with a cookie?”
She nodded.
I smiled but the smile felt tight and unnatural. “All right. To friendship.” I took a bite. “To friendship.”
She didn’t take a bite. Her pleasant smile slipped. She put the cookie back in the tin. “I can’t do this.”
“Mona. We can do whatever you want us to. If you want to be friends, that’s it. If you want to pretend like we never hooked up, I’m okay with that. Whatever you want—just don’t throw us away. Don’t throw me away.”
“I can’t. I can’t be your friend.”
“Why not?” Panic ripped through me. “You said you trusted me. We can keep going the way we always have. I promise I won’t push you farther than you want. I’m okay with being your friend.”
“You are?” She didn’t look happy. “After that weekend? You’ll settle for just friends?” She scoffed.
“I know you think I’m a jackass, but I’m not that much of a jackass. You said yes that weekend. That is not an implied forever yes. You don’t want to go to bed with me, anymore. That’s the choice you made. I respect your choice.”
“You’re okay with that?” She did not seem happy. She stood and stared down at me. “You’re okay with just friends?”
I stood too, warily. What was going on? “If that’s what you want.”
“You’re okay with seeing me and not . . .” She flailed around for words and found none. Just stared at me.
“Not what?”
Her eyes filled with tears. Her fists clenched at her side. “Not kissing me?”
“What?”
“You can see me and not want to touch me? That’s okay for you? You don’t . . .” she inhaled a broken breath. “Want me?”