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Nash: Why are you asking for permission?
I rolled my eyes.
Blair: Nash.
Nash: Yes I’ll be home. Come over. You hungry?
Blair: No.
That was a lie. I was starving, but it was not a conversation I wanted to have over food. I had considered dinner somewhere in neutral territory. Then I imagined telling him everything, watching his face change, and him deciding he couldn’t deal with me before getting up and leaving me sitting at a restaurant with half a plate of food and a waiter wondering if he should bring the check.
Absolutely the fuck not.
If Nash was going to reject me, he was going to do it at his house. That way I could stand up, grab my purse, walk to my car, and cry with dignity. I needed an escape vehicle.
When I pulled into his driveway, I sat in the car for over ten minutes. Nash called and I declined it.
Nash: I can literally see your car.
“Fuck.”
I looked toward the house and the front door opened. Nash stood there.
I rolled my window down. “You are so fucking annoying.”
“You’ve been sitting in my driveway for over ten minutes.”
“I was answering an email.”
“You also lie badly.”
My stomach twisted.
Nash’s smile disappeared. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Then come in.”
He stepped back inside.
I looked at myself in the mirror. “You can do this.”
I grabbed my purse, then stopped. “Or you could go home.”
That sounded better. I reached for the ignition.
The front door opened again. “BLAIR!”
“Goddammit.”
“GET OUT THE CAR!”
“I’M COMING!”
I got out and slammed the door. He was laughing when I reached him. He leaned down to kiss me. Instinctively, I turned my head.
His lips caught my cheek. Nash pulled back. “Okay.”
