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“Well, we're never going to know unless we give it a try,” I shrug.
“You're serious,” she scowls, squinting at me. She looks me over for a long time, as though checking for signs that I'm not serious.
“Totally. What's on your mind? Something wrong? How's the book going?”
She perches her elbow on the arm of the chair and drops her forehead against her palm, slumping even more. Part of me is relieved to see that I have found a way in, danced around those defenses just enough. She's about to tell me something that's on her mind, and I have to admit that feels pretty good. Just a slight concession toward trusting me.
“The book is going… well, I suppose it's pretty good. There certainly a lot of it, anyway.”
“Already? That was fast.”
She smiles with her lips still closed, though there is a tinge of something else there too, almost like sadness.
“Sometimes things just go really fast. Like, you barely need to plan them. They shoot off in one direction like a runaway train.”
“That's a good way of describing us,” I smile. She smiles back, then catches herself.
“Us?” she repeats, quirking an eyebrow at me. “You mean our arrangement?”
“If that is what you want to call it.”
I watch her reassembling her defenses quickly, drawing them in front of her like drawing the curtain closed. Desperately, want to reach out and pull her back closer to me.
“You know, you don't have to do that,” I blurt out.
“I'm not doing anything,” she scowls, looking down into her mug.
“You are. Every time you and I are on the brink of having a conversation, you withdraw like I've done something to you. But haven't done anything to you.”
“Oh you haven't?” she counters.
“No, I really haven't,” I answer honestly. “Think back, Bella. Has there ever been a single time when I've been anything but straight with you? Anything but nice, even?”
She purses her lips, glancing up at me. I see she's really trying to piece this out. To her surprise, there isn't anything.
It surprises me too, honestly.
“No… I guess not.”
I pat the cushion next to me with my fingertips. “Now why don’t you come and sit over here? Let me be nice to you up close and in person.”
She sighs through her nose, her nostrils flaring adorably. “See? I'm nice to you for twenty seconds, and you're already trying to take advantage.”
“I'm not trying to take advantage of you. I'm trying to get laid. Straight up, honest, direct. I feel like that would be good for both of us.”
Her mouth falls open. “Unbelievable!” she huffs, slapping her palms on the armrests of her chair. “You almost had me fooled with that nice guy act, just there.”
“What are you talking about? Fucking is nice, in case you haven't noticed!” I shrug, wondering why she is not appreciating the obvious. “I know you're not a prude. I was there, remember?”
“Just never mind!”
She stands again and walks over to me, then snatches the mug out of my hands. I hear her little heels pounding on the floorboards as she stalks back into the kitchen and get up to follow her.
The kitchen is really nice too, with porcelain subway tiles and an old-fashioned sink. She twists the faucet cruelly, rinsing up the cups and banging them against the bottom of the sink like they've offended her too.
“Okay, okay, okay…” I sigh. “I'm sorry for mentioning fucking when we’re not actually fucking. I suppose that is somehow extremely rude of me. Better?”
“You should not be here by yourself,” she says without turning around. She flings open a cabinet door and stands on her tiptoes to rearrange some boxed dry good items.
