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“I’m not trying to hide anything,” she said in the most defensive tone I’d ever heard out of her. “I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m going on a date.”
It hurt. Deep in my bones. Pain.
“With who?” I asked, not pulling off the fake calm anymore.
“No one you know. I met him at church.”
I stared, and it was not friendly. “At a church dance?”
She flushed.
“I knew it! I knew that was some kind of meat market.”
“Stop. I met him after… we were totally done.”
I had to bite my lips not to say what I wanted to, which was that we’d never be done, let alone totally.
She was still talking, still stomping on my heart with her cute little feet. “He’s new to town. I’m showing him around.”
“What’s his name?”
“Aaron.”
I hated his name. It sounded so clean cut and normal. “What does he do?” I asked. I was willing to bet he didn’t make more money than me, the punk.
“He’s an accountant.”
Oh I hated his guts. Cast aside for a fucking number cruncher. “Where’s he taking you?”
She blushed and I wanted to howl at the moon. “We have a reservation at that new hot restaurant in the Cavendish casino. James was nice enough—”
“Oh, it’s James, is it?”
“Well, James through Bianca. She was nice enough to get us in, after I met her at that party and started going to that girls’ night thing.”
“Fuck anonymous? That thing is sexist, you know. No men allowed? Not very progressive.”
She ignored that completely. “I’m meeting him there. Don’t be rude about it. I’m nervous enough as it is. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been on a date.”
I had to sit down, mind reeling. My heart felt like it had stopped in my chest.
I’d never even taken her on a proper date.
I was staring at her, eyes stinging.
She saw something on my face that had her feeling my forehead. I closed my eyes, leaning into her touch.
“I think you might be coming down with something,” she mused.
“I might,” I agreed. “I’m sorry I never took you on a real date,” I said, voice low and agonized. “I have no excuse.”
Her tone was completely innocent when she said, “Oh, stop. I never expected that from you. I knew what I was getting into.
I felt a stream of self-loathing pour into me that was unprecedented.
“I’m sorry I didn’t make you expect more from me,” I said quietly.
And then. “Please don’t go out with him.” I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
