Page 84 of The Sweetness of Life

“Well, from the sounds of it, you two knocked this assignment out of the park.”

“That’s baseball,” Shelby states flatly.

“Excuse me?” Kelly flips her hair off her shoulder.

“He played football,” she responds.

“Yes, I know.”

Shelby looks at me and shakes her head. I think we’ve all officially had enough of this interview.

“Well, Kelly, thank you for coming.” Shelby and I both stand with Kelly shuffling to follow. “We appreciate you making the trip back down here and look forward to seeing the interview online.”

I shove my hands into my pockets, attempting to ward off a handshake, and step closer to Shelby. She’s the only person in this room I want touching me, and based on the look she’s giving me, I think she’d rather cut her hands off.

“It was my pleasure, honestly.” Kelly adjusts her top so more of her cleavage is exposed and winks at me.

I’m officially uncomfortable, and my face glowers.

“Honesty sure is an underrated quality these days,” Shelby says as she glances at me soberly. Without giving me time to respond, she turns, holds her head high, and heads for the door.

“Excuse me,” I mumble to Kelly and follow before she has enough time to get in her car and drive away.

Humidity hits me as I run through the front door and catch up to her on the landing at the top of the steps.

“Shelby, please wait,” I beg, reaching for her arm and pulling. I’m trying my hardest to stay calm, but all I want is to jerk her into my arms and hold on to her for as long as I can.

Pausing, she keeps her back to me and drops her head.

“Why, Zach? The project is over. That horrible interview is over, we are over, and I just want to go home.”

Running my free hand through my hair, I look around at anything and everything, praying for something to pop into my head that will make her stay.

“But I don’t want you to leave, not like this . . .” That’s when she turns around, and that’s when I see it.

The end.

Her eyes are flat, her face is devoid of any emotion, and the only tiny tell she’s giving me to show she isn’t completely indifferent is that she’s chewing on the inside of her lip.

“Look, I don’t know what more you want from me, but I’m done.” Her eyes bounce back and forth between mine, and she lets out a slow defeated sigh. “You. Win. Isn’t that what this is all about anyway? Winning. Well, guess what . . . you won. Game’s over.”

A chill sets in, and I’m numbed by the realization that she truly thinks all my actions—every touch and every word whispered to her over the last week—were insincere. She believes I was using her the entire time.

Yes, I wanted the blog post. I should have just asked her for it instead of playing games. And instead of asking her to write one, which she would have done because she cares, I continued to let her believe she was doing something nice for us, but that isn’t why I kissed her or made love to her.

One of the things I’ve always said I value most in people I now have to question about myself—character.

“Shelby—” I try to speak, but my throat’s constricting with guilt, and then I feel a pinch and a burning sting in my neck. “Shit.” My free hand slaps at the spot, pushing away the bee that stung me. Shelby and I both watch as it falls to the ground. Neither of us move, and neither of us says anything.

How ironic that I get stung by a bee at this exact moment. Between my mother’s symbolism, Shelby’s love of honey, her nickname . . . I’m at a loss. For two weeks these damn bees have been beloved, and as it all comes to an end, I get stung. Just perfect.

Looking up into my face, Shelby’s eyes are large as she takes in what just happened. Slowly blinking twice, she pulls her arm out of my grasp then backs away. Reaching the steps, she takes one long last look at me and the manor, turns, and walks away. The only sound I register is the clicking of her heels, heels I hated on her in the beginning and now love.

Peach Cobbler

DON’T LOOK BACK!

I mentally chant to myself as I make my way to the car.