Page 46 of The Home Grown
I roll my eyes. “I didn’t—look, I simply want to make sure you don’t regret this in the morning.”
She sets her cocktail down.
“I’ve regretted nothing in my life,” she says, her voice trembling with doubt.
I snicker, unable to stop myself. “Yeah, right? I’m pretty sure you regret the girls’ trip to Germany.”
“I wouldn’t have regretted the girls’ trip if you’d have called me afterward—even for closure. But you didn’t, Mike, did you? Because you were already busy with whatever-her-name was.”
Her voice quivers again as she reaches for her drink, and because I’m such a gentleman, I feel it necessary to intervene, stepping towards her.
“Okay, now let’s take this away,” I say, pulling the glass away from her. “I thought we’d already established I tried to call you.”
“But you didn’t flirt with me either,” she says. “The whole day. Not a single lewd comment.”
“Is that what you think?” I flash her a puzzled look but she looks away, a warm glow settling on her cheeks. “The reason I didn’t flirt with you is because I didn’t want an open rejection from the only girl I’ve ever fancied.”
She laughs, but it’s a sort of slurry laugh that turns into a giggle.
“You did not fancy me,” she says.
“I definitely did. And for the record, I looked you up several weeks ago, wondering if we were going to be in with a possibility of cashing in on that pact. You know, if we’re both single when we’re thirty?”
She stares at me for a moment before swallowing.
“Because I’m a last resort?”
“No—because I was hoping you’d hold me to it, and I’d at least be in with a chance that way.”
The embarrassment of laying my feelings on the line has me stress smiling. And Ellie notices in a flash, whacking me across the arm.
“What the hell was that for?” I rub my forearm.
“You were smirking at me—like this is all one big joke to you. This is mylife,Mike. This is my life, and you ruined it with your crappy ideas for wedding experiences and whatever.”
“I was not smirkingatyou,” I say. “It was just a little smile.” But I take a second to realise I was—and—I still am smirking, not smiling in the slightest. My face positively aches.
Her mouth drops into a frown.
“Okay, maybe I was,” I say. “But you’re so … I don’t know—cute. And I’m trying to be honest with you … make you understand how much I?—”
But I don’t think she’s listening.
She’s staring at me; her lips sort of pouting outward like theywantto be kissed. And boy, do I want to kiss them—kissher.
I step forward, closing the gap between us. My hand finds her chin, and I gently tilt her head towards mine, locking eyes.
She’s beautiful.Ridiculouslybeautiful.
Too beautiful for me.
But I can’t help myself. I lean in—just a little … but there’s a little voice in my head.
She’s got a boyfriend, Betts. Don’t be that guy.
I swallow hard, drop my hand, but keep my gaze on hers.
“I’m just trying to be honest here, Kitch,” I say, voice low. “I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about you. Because I have. And I?—”
