Page 158 of Talk Nerdy To Me
“I just had an idea. Harley turned it into a vision. Then together we made it happen,” I quickly explain, most of my attention focused on the fact we’re about to be all alone for the first time since he told me he loved me…and kissed me…and…left.
“Sounds like you’re already stepping into your partner role earlier than projected,” he says as he steps in behind me and puts his bags off to the side.
I shrug, not really sure why we’re discussing business alone in the tent. It’s like he’s purposely not addressing the confusing situation.
I’m stalling while I think of any other solution, but I really don’t feel comfortable with letting him out of my sight. Girls actually invited him to their tent right in front of me because I have no right to say otherwise.
“I think you keep a lot of things quiet, because you try to make people forget how smart you are,” he goes on.
I have no idea what he’s talking about right now. I feel stupid. Not smart. Not smart at all.
I have one large pillow mattress, but it’s not really big enough for the two of us unless we’re sleeping very close. That’s a terrible idea.
“We should have separate sleeping areas,” I tell him with a firm nod.
He just glances over at me, eyebrow arched as he keeps a respectable amount of smile on his lips.
“Why’s that?” he asks like he doesn’t already know.
“For one, we’ve absolved our physical and romantic relationship, so it’s not considered appropriate,” I tell him as I stare at the pillow mattress, feeling warmer than I should as I step back. “And also, we’re a primary example of the controversial phenomenon that can only be described as animal magnetism.”
I look back over to see his smile growing as he tilts his head, eyes scanning me in that deliberate way of his that always does something inexplicable to me.
I take another step back, moving toward the tent’s entrance.
“Are you saying you won’t be able to keep your hands off me if we sleep in the same bed?” he asks with some amusement.
I nod again, because there’s simply no avoiding this conversation. I’ve worked on preparing it on the nights when I couldn’t sleep, because my mind wouldn’t rest until I did.
“I know you could correct every tedious thing you perceive to be relevant on that relationship chart you were never meant to see,” I tell him on a calm breath as I pinch the bridge of my nose, cringing at how horrible I currently feel for that. “You don’t have to prove it. You’re figuratively limitless.”
When I look back at him, he’s already staring at me like he’s genuinely surprised.
“You keep acting like you’ve done something wrong. Everyone does. I don’t know why, and the more I talk, the worse it just seems to get. Everyone is meddling, which makes the philosophy I’ve adopted to deal with this breakup a very taxing imposition, since you’re suddenly everywhere.”
“Are you asking me to leave you alone?” he asks as he slowly lowers himself to a chair, just staring at me a little blankly. “Do you really want to cut me out that bad, Britt?”
I start to open my mouth, but he keeps talking before I can speak.
“I was worked up, and yeah, it was stupid to throw an ultimatum at you, especially since I was just taking it out on you. I get it. I’m sorry. I can’t apologize enough,” he goes on. “But I’m not going to walk away every time we argue, and you should know that. I thought I’d give you time to think, process, and hopefully prove I’m more patient than I seemed that night. I’m—”
“Can I please finish?” I ask on a shaky breath.
He clicks his tongue as he sits back and crosses his arms over his chest.
“See? You’re still trying to make this about you. I never once said you did anything wrong. The relationship chart was unaddressed issues to make everyone stop asking why I was giving up so easily, because no one would listen to my practical answer.”
He frowns as he just stares at me, his head tilting. “You’re not ready for a relationship?” he asks like he’s confused. “That was the practical, bullshit answer?”
“Conflict is just one of my many issues. I also panic when I get really scared,” I tell him on another shaky exhale.
“Most people do, Britt. Don’t patronize me by listing your imperfections with your ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech,” he says on a groan as he scrubs his hand over his face. “It’s fine. I get it.”
I start feeling frustrated when I shake my head, tears starting to brim, but the panic stays down, because I’ve rehearsed multiple ways of explaining this correctly for once.
“No. You clearly don’t get it. You did nothing wrong to me,” I tell him as calmly as I can as I back up again, keeping more and more space between us so that I stay calm.
“You asked a reasonable question, and you deserved to have a prompt response to it,” I tell him. “In hindsight, you were just making your new intentions clear, and I made it entirely too complicated at a really vulnerable moment in your life. You had every right to get angry when I didn’t have the answer you deserved at the ready. I made that night about me, and it should have been about you.”
