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“Sorry, Elizabeth. That’s not how it works.”
I’m suddenly inexplicably angry. Angry at him for giving me the silent treatment for the better part of a week. Angry at him for being such a hostile hermit that I can’t tell what he’s thinking from one moment to the next. Angry at him for doing something like that TO ME.
I want to stomp my foot, shout in rage, storm out, back in, out again. I want to peel him open and see his heart beat just to ensure he’s human.
“I think I hate you,” I say, speaking truthfully. “Why can’t you just behave like a normal human? Why can’t you just greet me in the morning with a cheerful ‘Good morning!’ and ask me about my day and smile when I say something nice?”
“I don’t work like that.”
This proclamation is accompanied by a shrug so confident, so rooted in arrogance it sends me right over the edge.
I release a crazed shout and turn to leave, but not before tossing out one more taunt.
“Don’t ever kiss me again!”
“You’re my wife—I can kiss you anytime I damn well please,” he replies, almost lazily.
“No you can’t! Absolutely not. Don’t spout that old-timey bullshit at me. You’re my husband in name only. If you kiss me again, I’ll…” I look around as if trying to get inspired. “I’ll…”
“You’ll what?”
“I’ll file for divorce.”
I realize later, as I’m stewing in my room in a vat of regret, that I didn’t exactly behave like I wish I had in regard to Walt. Where was the class? The suave? The cool-girl don’t-give-a-rip attitude? I could have simply laughed and brushed him off when he kissed me. I could have been the bigger person. I could have kissed him back…just to see if the zing I felt was real or imagined.
I hear him leave the apartment a few minutes later, probably to go on that run, or maybe to go see Camila…to confess to her that he kissed me but it meant nothing. It was hardly a peck, less than a peck. She’ll be upset, but he’ll assuage her concerns, tell her he only has eyes for her and then they’ll fall even deeper in love. I’m aggressively wringing out my pillow, so I apologize to it and toss it back on my bed.
When I get a text later from Matthew, I’m nervous to open it, worried Walt might have spilled the beans to his brother.
Instead, I find a friendly message asking me if I want to get lunch tomorrow.
We meet at a deli near the NYU campus because he only has an hour in between classes. Matthew’s as polite as ever, well-dressed and in a good mood. The antithesis of his brother…the brother I can’t stop thinking about. Matthew talks my ear off as we wait in line to order and I grow more and more anxious. Then, when we’re sitting across from each other in a little booth, our sandwiches unwrapped on their wax paper, Matthew’s about to shove his first bite into his mouth and I confess in a sudden burst, “Your brother kissed me yesterday.”
Matthew glances up from his food before straightening his glasses. He’s more than a little taken aback. “That’s…”
“Weird, right?”
“Yeah. I mean…” He nods his head from side to side, thinking it over. “Like I said at the dinner party, you’re his type and all…but I just assumed he wasn’t interested.”
“He’s not interested,” I say in a rush, wanting to clarify the obvious.
“But he kissed you.”
I shake my head, adamant in my stance. “It wasn’t a kiss like how you’re thinking.” He looks thoroughly confused now, so I’m forced to explain further. “It was an I-hate-you kiss. Haven’t you ever had one of those?”
“I have no idea what that is.”
“It’s a kiss not born out of love, but out of hate.”
“Yeah, thanks. That’s evident in the name. I’m just confused because I don’t go around kissing people I hate.”
“Well you probably don’t hate a lot of people. You’re much nicer than your brother, y’know?”
“Yeah, that’s obvious.”
I roll my eyes and he laughs, taking a bite of his sandwich. He studies me as he chews, his eyes narrowing in thought.
“Did you like the kiss?” he finally asks after finishing his bite.
I mime gagging exaggeratedly. Inside, though, my heart leaps around, trying to be heard.
Yes! She liked the kiss! She liked it! She’s a liar!
“Okay, point taken,” he says with a nod. “Do you think he liked the kiss?”
I look down. “How should I know? We didn’t exactly chat about it afterward. I sort of shouted at him and he shouted right back.”
“You two seem to have really fostered a healthy relationship.”
My gaze flits up to him. “Don’t look at me like that. I tried. I was nice to him from the get-go. He’s been all bristly and cold, a regular Mr. Darcy.”
