Page 35 of The Apparent Trap

But I’m not succeeding either.

“What do you mean?” I ask, tentative.

“I know you’re mad at me . . . for what happened before.”

“You’re going to have to say it, Lee.” My heart’s beating so fast it feels like it’s going to pop out of my chest. But I have to know.

He looks down. His hand is in his hair again, moving like it’s getting out his energy, his thoughts, his unstillable nature. He’s deciding, and it makes every second drag out like it’s coated in molasses.

“I’m sorry I left you there,” he finally says, not looking me in the eye.

“Left me where.”

“And I’m sorry I pretended.”

“Lee.” My voice is a warning. And it makes him look up. His eyes are so sad.

“I saw Carmen walk in, and I panicked. I’d been drinking, and I didn’t want her to see me like that. She walked in, and I immediately went into flight mode. But it had nothing to do with you. I didn’t even know who you were that night, I really didn’t.”

“Obviously,” I say on an exhale, trying to make myself breathe through all this honesty he’s suddenly handing me. Everything I’ve been thinking for the last two months has been turned completely on its head. The words are coming at me too fast.

“When I saw you that day, standing with Carmen, it all clicked so horribly instantly, and I had no idea what to do.”

“You said ‘nice to meet you,’” I point out, another memory seared into my brain.

“I just thought . . . I thought it would be better for everyone.”

“Even if I believed that—which I don’t—that would just mean it would’ve been easier for you,” I spit out. He looks down again. “You wouldn’t have thought about how it would affect me. You wouldn’t think about pretending to flirt with someone and then having to admit it was just a stupid game when you sobered up and saw them again.”

I’m surprised how much bite there is now in my words. For weeks, I’d shoved it all down so far that I didn’t realize that when it all came back up, all that force from hiding would unfurl like a loaded spring.

And it’s clear from the surprise on his face that he wasn’t expecting me to say that.

“I didn’t . . . I wasn’t pretending,” he repeats, and that response is so him. It makes me want to throttle him.

“You just brought this stupid conversation up. So you don’t get to absolve yourself because you’re feeling guilty,” I snap. “I’ve been perfectly fine. It doesn’t matter what happened in that bar, because it wasn’t a big deal. But you don’t get to act like it was something it wasn’t.”

His jaw is slack, like he’s been walloped. I guess he wasn’t expecting me to not just accept his bullshit.

“It makes sense you’d leave when you saw Carmen,” I continue. “I get that now, obviously.” The memory is turning itself over in my mind, that part finally clicking into place. “But then you wouldn’t have pretended we’d never met, if you remembered. It wasn’t a big deal. You could’ve just said hello and not made me feel completely forgettable. But you did forget.”

“You keep saying it wasn’t a big deal, but if it wasn’t, why would it matter?”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“It matters to me,” he snaps back.

“No it doesn’t.”

“Ezzie . . .” he says and stops. There it goes again, that indecision, that indecipherable look. It’s shaking me up from the inside. “Of course it mattered,” he exclaims, his breathing hard, that indecision seemingly, finally, tossed aside. “Of course I regret running out. Of course I wanted to kiss you in that bar and take you out and do everything I said I wanted to do. You really thought . . .” He’s going to pull his hair out, he’s running his hand through it so fast. “You really thought I didn’t recognize you? You didn’t just assume I was being a coward?”

Now I’m the one with the walloped expression. “Hoodwinked by contacts and eyeliner?” I say, everything now a question mark.

He leans against the counter, like my words are the most surprising thing he’s heard in his life. That gaze is incinerating now. I swallow, unsure of everything I thought I knew.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Ezzie.” He shakes his head. He takes a step toward me and then stops, thinking better of it, leaning back against the counter again like he needs a tether. “I didn’t forget you. How could anyone forget you?”

I look away, his words hurting in how untrue they are. “I mean, my dad just basically did on Thanksgiving,” I blurt out, my shot nerves making all the inside thoughts tumble outside.