“N. O.,” she said firmly. “If you cannot ask me nicely, and we’re not dating, then why would I go out of my way to do a favor for you? If you treat me like this – then you always will – and I deserve better from a friend.”
“We’re not friends,” he tossed out, using her words that she always brought up. “Is this about us? About me? About us dating?”
“You’ll know when we’re dating,” she mocked – and he could practically see her expression in his mind’s eye.
“Forget it.”
“Seriously?” she asks in disbelief. “Who are you going to get to feed Mulligan while you are out of town?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Actually – yes. I know you, and I know you won’t ask Gina again because in your mind, she went back on a promise. You’re not hard to read, Cujo…”
“Quit calling me that,” he interrupted and then quickly shot back “Sticks…”
“You win – no more nicknames…Cujo.”
“Wrong… Sticks. You’re my Sticks - my friend, my girlfriend, the woman I’m going to hold in my arms, the woman I want to see sleeping in my bed someday, and…”
“In your wet dreams,” she retorted, obviously flustered and interrupting him before he could continue or say something he’d regret – but that comment was like throwing gasoline on a wildfire.
Heat raced up his spine, flared in his brain, and caused his heart to skip a beat as his temper, his emotions, his everything ignited like a nuclear bomb within him.
“Maybe! Does that make you happy? Maybe, okay?” he exclaimed – and heard her gasp.Whoops…
Both sat there for a moment, neither saying a word. He could hear something in the background, maybe it was the television, but something was there, and he wondered if she could hear Mulligan’s purring.
“Bye,” he hesitated hoarsely, feeling very uncomfortable at her reaction.
“Uh-huh,” she whispered, ending the call.
This was not how he imagined his evening.
Twenty minutes later, Tate was glaring at the clock on the wall, waiting and wondering if he was going to have to make the first move again. Nettie could be so stubborn, almost as stubborn as he was sometimes, but he didn’t like how thingsended. Was it so repulsive to think that he might be interested in her as more than friends?
That hurt.
More than he wanted to admit.
Sitting up, he moved Mulligan off his chest and winced at the tiny daggers that tried to cling to his chest as he set the cat down beside him. Mulligan glared at him, hissed, and jumped away – obviously in a bad mood now, too.
“Kissandhissare both four-letter words, you mongrel…” Tate snarled after the cat. “You love me and we both know it – so hiss all you want! I’m here when you are done being pissy at me…”
Picking up his phone, he texted Nettie while whispering to himself, using a few tactics from Emil’s suggestions to help when he felt too strongly or got temperamental. According to his therapist, he was a high-intensity person, which sounded stupid as could be defining someone like that, but Emil managed to make it make sense.
“Some people cry when they feel overwhelmed, some laugh, while other’s lash out or get upset. You’re not actually mad, Tate – you just feel a high level of anxiety or struggle to cope in the moment, so let’s work on a few coping mechanisms…”
And they honestly helped.
Deep breathing exercises, a worry stone he kept in his pocket and rubbed when he felt it building inside of him, counting exercises, and reciting his goals with tactics on how to get there.
“Be nice, be approachable, ask for her input…”
I hope your toe is okay.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so stupid sometimes,” Tate muttered, staring at the screen as he saw the message was marked as Read.“I hope your toe is okay? Really? That’s what you are starting with?”
It’s fine.
