Secrets That We Keep
Pointing, I growled, “You…” and I stepped into her house, slamming the door behind me. “Liar.”
Eyebrows lifting, she set her hands on her hips and glared back. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” I charged. “I called you a liar.”
“You said you wouldn’t freak out and start avoiding me. Well, where were you tonight?”
“I didn’t feel like—”
“Oh my God. Will you stop interrupting me.”
“Sure. When you stop avoiding me.”
“I’m not—” This time, she cut herself off to glance skyward for assistance as she mumbled curses about me. Once she was calmer, she looked me in the eye. “I’m not avoiding you. The reason I didn’t go tonight had nothing to do with you whatsoever.”
I stepped closer to her, my eyes flaring. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”
She gulped unsteadily—totally freaked out by my proximity—and then she jerked a step back.
I think that broke something inside me. She should never be too scared of getting close to me. It felt like the beginning of the end. I was going to lose her.
But once she had her space, she shot fire at me with her eyes, totally not intimidated at all. “Prove what?” she cried with a disbelieving snort. “That I didn’t go tonight because of—”
“Prove that you aren’t avoiding me,” I clarified.
She gurgled out an incredulous laugh. “How the hell does someone prove something like that?”
I shrugged. “Not my problem. Just get it done. Right now.”
Her eyes widened. “Right—”
“Right now?” she repeated, blinking at me as if I’d lost my mind.
I put my hand to my ear. “Is there an echo in here?” Then I glanced at the face of my watch. “Time’s ticking, baby doll.”
“Oh my God,” she exploded. She gave another dubious laugh. I couldn’t tell if she was getting a kick out of my stubbornness or if she was seriously annoyed by it. “You are such a pain in the ass.”
“Yeah,” I countered. “A pain in the ass that you’re avoiding.”
Her eyes narrowed. “This is getting ridiculous.” Darting her gaze around the room, probably looking for something heavy to hit me with, she groused, “I can’t believe you’re really making me do this.”
I yawned and reported, “Not convinced yet.”
“Oh, that’s it,” she snarled, fed up with my antics. Stepping close, she grabbed the front of my shirt. “You want to be convinced that I liked being with you, fine! I’ll convince you.”
I opened my mouth to tell her, no, I hadn’t mentioned anything about needing performance feedback. I just didn’t want her to hate me now. But she pulled me into her before I could say anything, and she plastered her mouth to mine.