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He then went to the proving drawer and took out the bread.
I watched as he oiled it, dimpled it and salted it. He also sprinkled it with rosemary and minced garlic.
I was salivating, and it wasn’t even baking yet.
He slid the pan in the oven then went to the sink to wash his hands.
By this time, I was on a stool.
And by this time, I’d realized his mood had changed. He hadn’t instigated a different conversation topic. He wasn’t even looking at me.
So I found my mouth saying, “I’m sorry I seemed pushy. I’m just trying to get to know you.”
He put a pan he’d filled with water on the stove and looked me dead in the eye. “Right. So it’d be good you did that without it coming off as a tell-all interview. All of life isn’t an episode of Elsa’s Exchange.”
Struck by his words, I said nothing.
He salted the water like he hadn’t just been a dick to me.
I’d dated. I’d hooked up. I’d even had a couple of men who’d stuck around for a while, though that “while” didn’t last very long.
But I was realizing right then that I had no experience in how to deal with this kind of situation. Frankly, since he’d been a jerk, my first thought was, I wanted to leave.
Hale started on a salad, put the spaghetti on, indeed finished off dinner while asking about my day. Asking after Fliss. Asking if I’d touched base with my dad.
I’d answered his questions shortly, with detachment, to the point where, by the time he served up and sat beside me, we ate in silence.
It registered vaguely, how restaurant-quality delicious his food was, but in a sense, I didn’t really taste it.
He’d gone to the trouble, though, so I was going to eat it.
After that, I thought the safest bet for the both of us was me getting my stuff and leaving.
He wasn’t ready to bare all. I understood. We’d been texting banter for a year, fighting our attraction for months, and only just decided to give this a go. If I was pushing too hard too fast, okay.
But there were ways to communicate that without lowkey lashing out.
We were halfway through the food when Hale muttered to his bowl of spaghetti, “So glad I put all that effort into this.”
“It’s delicious,” I forced out.
He made no reply.
I ate two more bites in excruciating silence and then announced, “You know, I think we went at this too much, too fast. Maybe I should sleep at my place tonight.”
“Running away, I see.”
Again, he said this to his food, which annoyed the hell out of me.
“I’m not running away. But I’m certain you haven’t missed there isn’t a good vibe happening right now.”
He finally looked at me. “Because you came home, got up in my shit, and I asked you to back off. And you’re ticked because I did.”
“No, I didn’t get up in your shit. And no again, I’m not ticked because you asked me to back off. I’m ticked because ofhowyou asked me to do it. I like you. I’m curious about you. You aren’t very forthcoming, so I was trying to get to know you. We were having aconversation, Hale. And you didn’t shut it down in the nicest way.”
“It doesn’t take a licensed therapist to know I have trust issues, Elsa, and why, and to understand I need to establish boundaries, and from there, cut me some slack.”
“I have been, Hale. I give in every time you pull away.”
