Two Way Street

My eyes were glazed over as I sat on the couch, watching an old re-run of some fashion-type reality show. I would have changed the channel, but the remote was across the room, and I didn’t want to have to get up while I was holding the bundle of ice against my lip. But the show was pretty awful. Dumb things like sewing machines not working properly caused a huge uproar. So dramatic.

I was half-asleep in the middle of the episode when a loud knocking noise tore me from my relaxed state. “Come in!” I called, figuring it was one of the guys. And I didn’t give a damn if they saw me nursing my swollen mouth on the couch while watching a show that was very clearly aimed at middle-aged women.

But when the door opened and a person stepped in, it wasn’t one of the boys. It wasn’t a boy at all. “Hey,” Mara greeted, smiling slightly.

Trying to fight a blush, I stood up and stuffed the ice under one of the cushions on the couch. As I walked over to her, I shut off the TV, cutting off one of the contestant’s testimonials about how much better their design was than the others.

“Hi,” I responded, coughing a little. “How did you find out where I lived?”

“Uh, Harry,” she answered.

We both stood, neither of us looking at each other, feeling excruciatingly awkward. What the hell was she doing at my apartment? I just wanted to mope by myself, whining about my lip being swollen larger than my head, and watch shitty television.

She cleared her throat and sighed. “Okay, this is really uncomfortable. I’m just going to come right out and say it.”

“You’re a lesbian?” I joked.

“What?” she shot back, raising her eyebrows.

“What?” I followed up without hesitation in her exact tone.

She shook her head. “Oh my God, you’re ridiculous. Look, I feel really bad about hitting you in the face. It looks like shit, by the way.”

My hand instinctively went to my face, gently prodding the hurt area, while I answered, “I told you, you don’t have to worry about it. It was an accident. I’m over it.”

“Well, I’m not,” she snapped, her tone starting to get a bit of attitude in it. “So will you hear me out?”

I nodded, shutting my mouth.

“I want to take you out for coffee, just as an apology. My treat.”

Staring at her, I contemplated the idea. It really didn’t sound like a good one. Why in the world would I want to spend time alone with Mara, when I could only tolerate her somewhat in a group setting? In a one-to-one situation, I couldn’t guarantee that I wouldn’t lose my temper and destroy any chance we had of getting on.

She noticed my hesitation and laughed lightly. “Don’t worry. I promise to be on my best behavior. No sarcasm, no trash-talking…You’ll get to talk to me as I really am.”

That didn’t sound so bad, if she actually went through it. And I hadn’t decided if I trusted her or not. But, despite my better judgment, I nodded. “Alright, fine.”

“Great,” she grinned. “Grab your jacket. We’re going to walk to the café near Louis’ apartment.”

Wow. She really had thought everything out. I wondered what she would have done if I said no as I grabbed a jumper out of my closet. She probably would have kidnapped me and taken me anyway, kicking and screaming or not.

The walk there was pretty quiet, both of us focusing on our feet, kicking rocks down the sidewalks. A couple of times, she tried to start conversation, but I always responded with a grunt or a mumble. I wasn’t one of the people who liked to walk through the cold and talk at the same time.

When we finally got to the warmth of the café, I breathed out a sigh of relief. Mara led the way to the counter while I stayed a couple steps behind her.

Once we had our drinks, we sat down at a table near the window. Mara stirred her latte absentmindedly while I took a sip of my coffee.

Well, I thought sarcastically, this is nice.

Mara finally looked up at me, her hazel eyes darker than usual, as she asked point-blank, “Why don’t you like me?”

That was direct. I swallowed uncomfortably, opening and closing my mouth a few times, trying to figure out what to say without offending her. Finally, I decided on, “The way you acted when we first met just turned me off. And first impressions are important to me.”

“I’m trying to prove your first impression wrong,” she pointed out. “But you haven’t been very receptive.”

“You keep proving me right, though. Trash-talking and all that.”

Her eyes went wide. “Hey, you started that!”

“You told Zayn and me to stop celebrating, and then called us a couple of girls.”

She huffed. “Alright, maybe you’ve got a point there.”

Another silence settled between us, both of us making eye contact only with our coffees. After a few minutes, she said, “I’m just saying that I want us to get on. I think it really upsets Louis that we don’t like each other.”

I knew she was right. It was easy to see in his blue eyes that, whenever we bickered or one of us said something bad about the other, it pained him. “I want to get on, too.”

“Good.” She grinned and sat up straighter in her seat. “I’m glad that we have that settled.”

I nodded in agreement as I took another sip of my coffee.

“Alright, now I’ve no idea what to talk about,” she sighed. “Do you?”

I pondered for a second. “Do you watch Project Runway?”

She gave me the most confused look I had ever seen a person make. “What? No. Why?”

“It was on the telly when you came in. I’ve never seen such a stupid show in my life.”

“Uh, it’s a reality show,” she pointed out. “Of course it’s dumb.”

“No, there’s dumb, and then there’s this show. I mean, all these designers hate each other, and they all pretend to be nice to each other to their faces, then talk shit about them to the confessional cameras.”

Mara laughed at me, a real, genuine, not-in-the-least-malicious laugh. “Welcome to the life of reality television, hon. It’s all like that.”

“Really? Does everyone whine about broken sewing machines?”

“Hey!” she chuckled. “Think of how you’d feel if you were trying to get an outfit done or whatever in, like, no time, and you found out that you had to sew by hand.”

“No!” I interjected. “They didn’t have to sew by hand. There were other sewing machines. But still, the one not working properly sent this guy into a total breakdown.”

“Oh.” She smirked at me. “Then I have no idea. You shouldn’t watch such idiotic shows.”

“I don’t usually,” I muttered, “but the remote was across the room.”

“And you were too lazy to go get it?”

“Partly,” I mumbled embarrassedly. “And partly because I had ice on my face.”

Mara cringed at the mention of my face. “I won’t be able to apologize for that enough.”

“Hey, it was an accident,” I shrugged, smiling at her. “It’s really fine. I’ll just look ridiculous for a little while.”

And for the first time, I actually meant it when I said it didn’t bother me.