Cowboy Baby Daddy

I stammer a bit, but I have no words to follow the string of unintelligible noises.

“When did this happen?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” I say. “Look, can we just forget that I said anything?”

“I just got a new job, and I’m going to be moving,” she says, putting her hands to her temples.

“Yeah, let’s just forget I said anything. I’m thrilled to hear about your—”

“Are you sure it’s not just a proximity thing?” she asks. “I know sometimes people—”

“Oh, let’s just drop it.”

She peers at me, and I can’t bring myself to return the gaze.

“You are—seriously, why didn’t you say something before? You know, maybe while I was drunk and throwing myself at you?”

“Well, I—”

“Wait,” she says, “that’s right. There was a naked woman in your room at the time.”

She starts laughing, and I want to kill myself.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “This really isn’t funny.”

She’s still laughing.

“Okay, well, I’m going to go now, but yeah, congratulations on the job.”

“Dane, I’m so sorry for laughing. It’s a nervous thing. I’m really not trying to laugh at you.”

“Really, it’s fine,” I tell her, and turn to go back to my room.

“I wish you had told me,” she says.

I stop.

“I have feelings for you, too, you know?”

“Yeah?” I ask.

I’m no good at this whole vulnerable thing.

“Yeah,” she says. “After that night, I realized that I’ve been really attracted to you for a while. I’m pretty sure that’s why I hated you for so long.”

“So you hated me because you like me?”

“I’m a girl,” she says. “That’s kind of how we roll. You guys do it, too, you know. That whole pushing girls down in the sandbox cliché; that’s the same thing.”

“Yeah, well, good talk.”

“I really wish you said something.”

She’s still talking.

Why are we dragging this out?

“I wish I said something, but I’ve got this new job and I don’t see any way this is going to work, Dane. I wish we just—”