It Started with a Kiss

She makes her way into the apartment, setting the bag on the counter before leaning against it. Even though she’s hidden her hands from view, I can tell she’s gripping the edge. Now that we’re back here together, even I feel the discomfort that never existed between us before.

I keep some distance, not as a punishment for her but to protect myself. I choose a chair in the living room and sit. “Do you want to go first?”

Releasing the stone counter, she drops her arms to her sides. “Why aren’t you going to watch football today?”

“I will. Here.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Look, Marlow. You don’t have to check on me. I’m fine. Would I rather you have stayed? Yep. But I’m not holding it against you if that’s what you’re worried about. You know I’ve never been one to beat around the bush, so let’s address the elephant in the room.” I sit forward, resting my forearms on my legs. “I’m not going to their place because I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see you.”

The realization strikes her, widening her eyes and parting her lips. She’s quick to realign and straighten her shoulders. “I want to see you. That’s why I’m here.”

“You’re here all right.” Fucking gorgeous as always. Of all the people I had to set my sights on, why’d it have to be Marlow Marché? “And why is that?” I don’t know why I’m getting irritated, but I am.

“I’d say I read too much into your text, but it seems it landed how it was intended.” She tentatively steps closer, moving around the couch to the far side from me before sitting down. I think her pit stop to see me wasn’t part of her game plan because of how uncomfortable she appears with her stiff disposition.

I look away, trying to find interest in the area rug.

She says, “We said no strings.”

“We said a lot of things.” I tilt my gaze up, knowing I’m too weak to look away from her for long. The feelings I have for her have been brewing for years. It’s too bad they couldn’t have stayed buried.

“I don’t understand what’s wrong, Jackson.”

“I know you don’t.” I push up and go into the kitchen, not sure what I need but pretend it’s something in here. “I take it you’re not staying?” I grab a bottle of beer and twist off the cap. I don’t even know the time, but it seems like a reasonable hour for a drink since it’s a holiday.

“After that warm welcome,” she replies sarcastically, not making a move to leave, “I’m not sure it’s safe to stay.”

“Safe?” I laugh, but there’s no humor. I take a long pull from the bottle, letting the liquid coat my throat. Setting it down, I press my palms to the cold stone. “You want to talk, let’s talk. I’ll start. Safe is what I felt in bed next to you. Safe in the thought that you enjoyed the night as much as I did. Safe in the crazy fucking notion that you’d be there this morning. Safe that we were moving past the games we play into something . . . You know what? Fuck safe. Take your queso and go.”

She finally stands, her clicking heels causing an echo across the wood floors. Snatching the bag, she whips back to face me. “We have a good thing going, but you want something I can’t give you.”

“Which is?”

“More.” She’s already shaking her head when she adds, “I don’t have the emotional energy to spend on anything or anyone else. Don’t you understand? My life is a shit show right now. If I’m not being run ragged at work trying to constantly prove myself to a boss who will never see me as more than someone who runs her errands to dealing with creditors and bills I didn’t even know existed until a few months ago, I’m selling my stuff to try to earn extra money for a down payment I’ll never have.”

Like a rose, she blooms in anger, the thorns, the walls she uses to protect her. Or maybe more like an onion—layer by layer. Either way, I had no idea things were this bad because she wears bravado and attitude like the latest fashion. “Then tell me that instead of leaving me guessing.”

Coming closer, she presses the bag to my chest, crushing the chips in the process. “I just did. I can’t give you what you need, Jackson. Keep the queso.” Her words land like punches, and she keeps swinging. “Maybe it can keep you warm tonight.”

She leaves me holding the bag, literally, as her hair flies from her shoulders when she spins in her goddamn righteousness and storms toward the door with her walls sky high again.