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I do.
She pulls away. "You can't just fix everything with that."
Another kiss. "No?"
She pulls away. "I mean it, Landon. I don't know if I can do this."
"What are you saying?"
She puts down the baguette she's accidentally crumbled in her hand. "I'm saying that this is all messed up. You. Me. Us. I swore I'd never get involved with you again, and now, here I am, having a freaking picnic with you, and - "
I take her hand, squeeze it gently. "Hey."
She's looking away, almost as if she can't bear to look at me. "I don't think I hate you anymore."
A surprised laugh bursts out of me. "That's what this is all about?"
"No, of course not! Just - there's a lot at stake for me here."
"And there isn't for me?"
Now, she's looking at the ground. Even in her severe yet sexy lawyer suit, her hair pulled back into a bun, she's almost painfully gorgeous. I just want to pick her up in my arms, run my hand along her hair, kiss her forehead. Make it better.
But she doesn't want that now.
"What are we doing, Landon?" she asks quietly, finally looking at me. The look she gives me is so sad I'm the one who has to look away.
"I don't care if this doesn't make sense," I find myself saying. "I don't care. OK?"
"OK," she says dully.
"I want to see you. Do you want to see me?"
"It isn't that simple."
"Yes, it is." I turn her chin to face me. "Do you?"
"Yes, of course." A sad smile. "But Landon - "
A finger to her lips. "No buts. Let's just enjoy this picnic, and I'll keep doing a good job not ripping that sexy little suit of yours off in public."
She gives me a playful smack. "Perv."
"You like it."
She laughs. "Just pass me the strawberries."
Too fast, we eat through the baguette and cheese and strawberries. Even the big bar of dark Swiss chocolate we devour in no time.
Talk is easy, light. My mouth is sore from grinning too much.
The sun's come out from the clouds. The rays only serve to illuminate her porcelain skin. That slight honey tint of her eyes. She's so pretty when she smiles.
"So, about tonight," I begin.
"No dice."
"You didn't even hear what I was going to say." Her playing hard to get is getting old.
"Landon."
"Kyra."
"I meant what I said. I'm busy." She checks her phone. "I should be going now, actually."
"Sure."
That phone again. Who knows what the fuck is up.
We get packed up quickly enough. I don't answer the question I want to until we're in my car and I'm driving us back: "Why can't you tell me what you're doing tonight?"
"Why do I have to?"
"You don't have to." I frown. This isn't how I wanted this to go. "Just - I don't see why it's a big secret."
"It's not. I'm just not telling you."
"Isn't that the definition of a secret?"
A sigh. She shakes her head. "I'm not getting into this with you."
"Then don't."
"Good."
"Great."
She turns to face the window. Fuck.
"I didn't want today to end like this," I say.
"Neither did I. You brought it up, though."
"Is it so wrong that I'm curious about you?"
"No." A pause. "Demanding to know what I'm up to isn't being curious, though."
"You're the one who said there's so many things I don't know about you, and then you won't even tell me your slightest plans for tonight."
"Alright." She rounds on me, eyes flashing. Once again, I'm right and she knows it. "Tonight, I have a nice bowl of Moroccan stew I'm going to eat. OK. Happy?"
"I got passed over for stew?"
"Ugh! There's no winning with you."
"You already said that today."
"Guess this is the second time, then."
She turns to the window again.
I'm glaring at the road, the stupid slow drivers. This drive is fucked. This afternoon is. This day is.
I need to get home, do some push-ups. Better yet, go to the gym and lift some weights.
Maybe Nolan is right: I'm letting Kyra too far into my head.
But as for this, I don't think I'm wrong either. Something is up with Kyra. Of course it's up to her whether to tell me. But if she isn't going to, she shouldn't go down the 'there's so many things you don't know about me' path. It's just shitty.
She puts her hand on mine. "Sorry. Guess I'm still in lawyer mode."
"I am too. I don't mean to pry. Not my place."
"It's fine. You were right about me being a hypocrite."
"I said that?"
A chuckle. "Not exactly. But I have been. Saying that you don't know me - and then not letting you. I just - " Her face crumples. "I'm just not ready, I don't think."
"Hey, it's fine." I open my hand so her fingers can thread down through mine.
"It's not, though." At a red light, a glance over finds her face with that same sadness. It takes me a second to get what else is there. Hopelessness.
