His face scrunches up a little, like he’s recovering from a blow. “So, that’s what you think this is about?” he whispers.
“Well? What else? You used to bring home a new girl almost every night. You used to go out; you had a social life. Now, you’re a homebody, and you got annoyed with me because I had something to do on Sunday night. I’m sorry if I can’t arrange my schedule around your lack of a social life.”
Kitty, what is wrong with you? Where is this coming from?
I can’t seem to keep my mouth shut. I don’t even believe half of what I’m saying, but he’s hurt me so much, left me feeling hopeless and inadequate. Not to mention hopelessly naive, like a real idiot for ever thinking Paxton might get serious about me.
He shakes his head with a sad little smile. “You know, you’re one of the smartest people I know. I give you a lot of shit; I realize that. I tease you; I joke around. But really, your intelligence has impressed me on more than one occasion.”
I should be kind, shouldn’t I? I should extend an olive branch.
Instead, I double down out of a stupid sense of self-preservation. “Um, thanks? What’s that got to do with anything?”
“You just don’t get it. You still don’t see. I’m starting to think you never will. Because you don’t want to. I guess I need to get a grip once and for all.” With that, he picks up the rest of his food and motions for Phoebe to follow him back to their place.
I trot behind them. “Wait a second! I’m not finished yet.”
“Too bad because I am.”
He tries to close the apartment door before I can get through, but he’s too late. I manage to shove my way in and follow him to the kitchen.
“If there’s something I need to get, as you put it, why won’t you come right out and tell me? What’s with all this secrecy? Since when do you not tell it like it is?”
“Some things can’t be said so easily.” Now, it’s his turn to go to the fridge, like I’m not even here.
“Can’t you just talk to me? What is going on? I’m sorry for being nasty before. Don’t shut me out, please.”
He barks out a bitter laugh before closing the refrigerator door and turning to me. The expression on his face makes me fall back a step. It’s something between anger and … desperation? Frustration?
“You think saying you’re sorry erases what you just said? Like I’m going to forget? It doesn’t work that way. Trust me, if it did, my life would be a lot simpler right now.”
“Meaning what?”
He tries to turn away, and I give him a little shove to hold his attention.
“Don’t turn your back on me! Tell me what it is. What is so hard about your life right now? What haven’t you told me?”
He looks at the floor. “Don’t do this. I’m serious. Just go home.”
“Why won’t you talk to me?”
His eyes lift, darting over my face before narrowing. “Fine. You want me to talk to you? I’ll talk to you. You live in this little bubble. You only see what you want to see; you only hear what you feel like hearing. And maybe that’s my fault. In fact, I know a lot of it is my fault.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“What else is new? You don’t give any thought to how you might affect other people. Or how, sometimes, being in your corner is more trouble than it’s worth.”
“Is that how you feel right now? That I’m more trouble than I’m worth?”
“Right now? Hell yeah. My life was a lot simpler before you drunkenly stumbled over here one night and asked me how to write a sex scene.”
I take a step back, flabbergasted. “Well, if I’m such a problem for you, don’t let me screw up your life anymore. But don’t get pissy with me when we can’t get together on a Sunday night either.”
He snorts. The disdain written on his face is striking, disheartening. “Are you blind? Or are you willfully ignorant? I’m trying to tell you something here, and you’re not listening.”
“Then, just come out and say it because I’m no closer to understanding you than I was before!”
He doesn’t say it.
Instead, he does something I wouldn’t have anticipated in a million years.
He reaches out.
Takes me by the arms.
Pulls me to him before I even know what’s happening.
And he kisses me.
My body goes stiff in surprise, total shock. It’s not a sweet kiss. Not tender. It’s hard. Fierce. But no less passionate. I don’t have time to register what’s happening, how I should react, before he pulls away.
“Does that answer your question?” He lets me go and turns away again, breathing heavy. “Seriously, you should go. I shouldn’t have done that. This has gotten out of hand. It would be best—”
I don’t need to hear any more. I don’t want to either. Because I have absolutely no idea what the hell just happened. I’m out the door before he has a chance to finish his sentence.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“And that’s it. I texted you, like, two seconds later. And then I buried myself under my blankets for most of the afternoon because I didn’t know how to deal with it.”
Hayley sits across from me, sipping her drink with an air of nonchalance that I find truly disturbing.
I wave a hand in front of her face. “Hello? Did you hear anything I just said? Matt kissed me. Matt! Of all people! Help me figure this out because I am lost.”
She tips her head to the side. “Are you though?”
“What?”
“You’re seriously lost? It comes as such a massive shock that Matt kissed you?”
“Okay, did I stumble into a parallel universe? Because nothing is making any sense right now. Why would I not be surprised? He’s practically my brother.”
My beautiful, brilliant best friend lowers her glass to the table with a sigh before reaching across and taking my hand. “Kitty, I’m telling you this with all the love in my heart. You are completely delusional when you set your mind to it.”
“Wow, and that was said with love? I would hate to hear it if it wasn’t.”
“Be a smart-ass all you want; that doesn’t change anything.” She has to let go of me when our server brings a plate of nachos.
“Your extra side of guacamole and one of extra cheese,” he murmurs, placing the pair of ramekins beside the platter.
If nothing else, this is a situation that requires extra cheese and guacamole.
Even the sight and smell of the nachos doesn’t dissuade me from what’s going on. “I don’t understand.”
She rolls her eyes. “Kitty, when are you going to wake up and figure out that he’s in love with you?”
My head snaps back hard enough that I’m afraid I might have whiplash.
She only picks up her drink again, and with the other hand, she pulls a large chip loaded with chicken and cheese from the pile between us. “Act as surprised as you want, but somebody has to tell you eventually. He’s crazy about you. And maybe you honestly haven’t seen it. I’m not trying to call you ignorant or anything like that. Maybe you truly didn’t know. But it’s plain to me that he’s had feelings for you for a long time. Just looking at the two of you together makes it pretty clear to me.”