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“Yes, I kind of had to,” she said and nodded toward the closest door at the back of the arcade.
“Why?”
“Why?” Belle pulled the door open for Chandler. “Well, you kissed me and then proceeded to make fun of me, ridicule me, throw my clothes in the toilet in the boys’ bathroom, I should mention, which is even more disgusting. You–”
“I didn’t do that,” Chandler interjected when they got into the back hallway.
“Yes, you did, Chandler.”
“No, I didn’t,” the woman insisted.
“You were there,” Belle argued. “So, even if you didn’t shove my very expensive figure skating costumes that my parents could barely afford, along with my street clothes, down not one but two toilets, you were still involved.”
Chandler placed her hand on Belle’s forearm and said, “No, I wasn’t. I walked in after Sarah, Penelope, and Olivia did that. I was the one who pulled everything out of the toilets they’d just shoved it all into.”
Belle leaned back against the wall and asked, “You were?”
“Yeah. You walked in right after that. I didn’t know what to do because they were all laughing at you, and I’d already called them jerks and pulled the clothes out, so I didn’t want to get on their bad sides. I just stood there. I’ve been just standing there for a long time now.”
Belle crossed her arms over her chest and asked, “What do you mean?”
“Just that I’m sensing a theme in my life. Can we go to your office now?”
“Sure. It’s through here,” Belle replied, pointing down the hallway.
They walked without saying anything else until they were inside, and Belle closed the door.
“Belle, I am sorry.”
“For what?”
“You know for what.”
“I need you to say it, Chandler.” Belle sat on the cot, leaving Chandler her desk chair.
“I’m sorry that I made fun of you with them,” Chandler told her as she sat down.
“That’s it?”
“What else am I supposed to be sorry for? I just told you I didn’t do the clothes thing. I am sorry that I didn’t say anything else other than calling them jerks, but–”
“You kissed me, Chandler.”
“You kissed me first.”
“On the cheek.”
“So, I kissed you.”
“You’re not sorry for that?”
Chandler’s face changed from a mix of anger and confusion to hurt if Belle had read it right.
“You want me to be sorry for kissing you?”
“Aren’t you?”
“No,” Chandler replied. “I’m not sorry that I kissed you, Belle. You… You were my first kiss.”
