“You care about me?” I laughed, knowing the truth. You don’t shove people away who you care about. I backed away.
She looked down and shook her head, “Why do you think I pushed you away when you kissed me?” She hesitated for a brief moment and sighed. “You think I didn’t want to kiss you? All I’ve thought about was that kiss. All I think about is this loud-mouth, flirty cop who looks at Martinez, and my chest catches fire. And all I think about is how stupid I was to think what I felt for Anderson was anywhere near real, because sometimes when I’m near you, it feels fifty times more intense than it ever was with him.”
“Lydia Martinez?” I asked, grabbing an empty glass from the cabinet and reaching up higher for an old bottle of brandy I kept around for shitty occasions.
“Yeah. I know I don’t have the right to feel jealous or anything,” she whispered, as I poured her a small taste. Her shoulders were still shivering, and her finger still trembled; she needed a hard drink to shake it all off.
“You’re right. You don’t. You told me you and I wouldn’t happen. You told me you weren’t interested in being with me,” I said, handing her the glass.
“I know. I just—”
“Martinez and I have a date this weekend.”
“Wow. That’s…great,” she said with a tight smile. “Well, then. You can just scratch the silly thing I said before about…things,” she said, looking blankly at the glass in her hands.
“Trust me. It’s already forgotten.”
She swallowed the brandy in one huge gulp, “Okay,” she said, inhaling deeply and coughing. “Good. That’s great.” She slid the glass over the table toward me. “I’m going to need a few more of those to catch up to the all the humiliation I keep getting slammed with today.” She brushed her hair out of her face and swallowed hard, “So, just keep ‘em coming.”
