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“No, I know, I know.” I sigh. “I don’t want to talk about…things.” God, I’m eloquent.
“We don’t have to talk about that,” Lucas says. “We don’t have to talk about anything. We don’t even have to talk.”
“So you want to just sit in silence?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Let’s just go back to normal.”
“That’s exactly it,” I say. “How can I pretend everything’s normal after what happened?”
“What happened?”
You got on your knees. “We had sex,” I whisper, as if someone’s listening in.
“So what?” he asks in a tone I know all too well, the one that sounds bored and above it all. “If I recall correctly, you were the one who said we didn’t have to talk about it, that it didn’t mean anything. That was your idea.”
I flinch. He’s right.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, and you don’t want to pretend nothing happened, then what’s the alternative?” he continues. “Continue avoiding me?”
“I’m not avoiding you.” That’s an obvious lie. I try again. “You avoid me too.”
Lucas’s jaw clenches. “If you didn’t want to go home with me, or have dinner with me, you should’ve just said. In fact, why don’t you just give me your schedule so I can make a concentrated effort to stay out of your way? That way, we won’t have a repeat of today. While you’re at it, why don’t you give me a minute-by-minute plan of your life so in twenty years, I don’t accidentally run into you in a supermarket and, god forbid, make you uncomfortable.” He’s curled both fists.
“Did I do something to upset you?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Then why do you look so angry?”
He follows my gaze to his hands and forcibly relaxes them. “I’m not angry. Sorry.”
Despite his size, in this moment, he looks so small as cold water slams down on his back, his hair soaked and dripping. I wonder how much courage it took him to ask me to dinner. To confess to me, all those weeks ago. And I reacted in the worst possible way.
I reach out and slam the tap, hissing as freezing droplets cover my arm. Lucas has been standing under the water for way too long, and it’s a wonder his teeth aren’t chattering.
“Maybe you’re right,” I admit. “I know I’m being annoying, hiding and changing my mind and —”
“Charlie, I’m not annoyed,” he says quietly. “If I seem like I’m on edge, it’s because…” he cuts himself off.
“Because?” I prompt.
He looks at me, and I flush.
“But you just had a cold shower,” I say lamely.
“Yeah, it was working pretty well until you marched back in here.”
I look down, unable to meet his eyes. “But…but I’m fully dressed. You’re the one who’s naked. If anything, I’m the one who should be…” I trail off.
It’s silent a moment too long before Lucas says, “It wouldn’t matter whether you were fully dressed or wearing a potato sack.”
I blink at him. “Really?”
“Really,” he says. “Welcome to my hell.” With a sigh, he grabs his towel and heads towards the door.
“Wait,” I say, grabbing his arm.
He looks down at my hand around his arm, then slowly meets my eyes.
