Silent Moments

Stephen looked surprised. “You don’t?”

I took a deep breath. “No. But that doesn’t mean it was right.”

“And so?”

I sighed. “Stephen, it can’t happen again.”

“Technically, it could. I mean, you have lips, I have lips, they seem to like touching….” He trailed off with a smile, which disappeared when I scoffed.

“I’m serious. So unless you promise that you won’t try anything else, I’m going to have to leave.”

I shuddered just thinking about going out in the storm, though I tried to hide it. Even though it had let up during my hours in the bathroom, it still wasn’t going to be any picnic to walk through.

“I won’t promise anything of the sort,” he replied haughtily. “But you won’t leave, either,” he added.

“What makes you so sure?”

“You want me,” he responded carelessly.

Duh. That was the problem!

I repeated this aloud, which I probably shouldn’t have, because the arrogance increased ten-fold, if that were even possible.

But I also saw a little bit of surprise behind his eyes—just a little bit. And suddenly I knew that the confidence he was giving off (almost as strongly as what had to be pheromones), was an act. A total and complete act. He had no clue, this entire time, how I was feeling about him, or myself, or the kiss we’d shared over half-a-year ago.

Meaning I’d just dug myself into a very, very big hole, because now he not only had power over me, but he knew it, too.

I looked over my shoulder at the window, which was still being pounded by rain, and sighed. I really didn’t want to go out there.

But I knew that I had no choice. It was either get wet, or get kissed, and although I ultimately preferred the latter (who wouldn’t), I knew the former was better for my sanity.

And my physical well being, too. Bruised lips are no joke.

I went into the back, got my coat, and slipped it on, zipping it up to my chin. I put on the hood, and walked back out to the front, with Stephen’s coat on my arm. I threw it at him, and he caught it, looking at me like I was crazy.

“You can’t seriously intend to walk in this.”

“Yes, and so do you.”

“Not a chance.”

“Well, you’re not staying here by yourself.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t trust you enough,” I said bluntly, and I picked up the keys from the desk. Out went the lights, up went the Closed sign in the door, and then I shoved him ahead of me into the storm.

“Which way’s your house?” he yelled over the wind.

I pointed behind me.

“Oh. I’m the other way.”

Thank God.

“Are you going to get me fired?” he wanted to know.

“Why would I do that?”

“So you don’t have to see me anymore.”

But I want to see you, I thought guiltily to myself. I didn’t respond to his statement, however.

I turned and started to walk away, but his voice stopped me.

“What will you do about Carl?” he shouted.

“I’ll tell him the truth,” I replied honestly. “And he can do whatever he wants to with it.”

And I knew that what he would want to do with it was use it as a reason to dump my cheating behind.

“Oh.”

He wasn’t so eloquent now. I would have laughed if I weren't feeling so idiotic... and guilty.

“I’ll see you later.” It was clearly more of a question than a statement.

I should have said no. I should have told him that, as a matter of fact, I had decided to tell Mrs. Sawyer that Stephen wasn't going to work out, and that we would never meet again. But I didn't, because, as I'm sure I've said before, I'm an idiot. So instead of shouting "No way!" at the top of my lungs the way my head told me to, I smiled at him.

“Yeah, you will.”