I cross my arms, watching him run to the cliff where we left our clothes.
Shame starts creeping in—holy shit, I think I almost just kissed him. What the hell happened? I couldn't even fight it. It overpowered my entire system.
Not good. Definitely not appropriate, this whole date.
No, this isn't a date, Emma.
And this... this was a mistake. Clearly, just a glitch. That's all... That's all.
When he comes back, he holds my dress with his arm outstretched, gaze fixed the other way to give me privacy.
I snatch it from him and fumble to drag the fabric down my thighs, hoping my face doesn't give away how pathetic I feel.
"I think we had enough fun for one day," he says, his tone somewhat detached. He clears his throat. "We should go home."
I search his face, struck by the sudden shift, and he gives me a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
"Yeah. We should," I say then. "I have to make lunch for Richard."
Why did I say that?A protective measure? Trying to sting him for feeling like crap after he changed his whole mood?
Ben blinks, looks at me with a flicker of something I can’t name—hurt? annoyance?—and then it’s gone.
He straightens. “Yeah, Lisa and I have plans too.”
Internally, I snort, but to him, I nod. "Of course."
He starts packing, racing some invisible clock only he can hear, and before I pick up my bag, he's zipped, ready, already halfway up to the car as I trail after him.
Is he feeling bad about it? Is he thinking about his wife? The way I should be thinking about Richard?
I think I get it. He's running from the girl who dives off cliffs. Lisa doesn't do that. Doesn't strip mid-argument. Lisa is stable. Which is why he married her and not me.
Seriously, what is wrong with me? Why can't I be normal for once?
The drive back is almost silent, lacking the hums, taps, and stupid jokes about my melodrama. Both of us pretend the kiss that nearly happened didn't even start, so now it's just the hiss of tires on asphalt and my reeling thoughts.
Only when we step into the elevator and I reach for a goodbye hug, does Ben hold on a bit longer. Or maybe I just want to imagine it.
"Try to get some rest today," he says, letting go as the door opens on my floor.
I step out, feeling miserable beyond measure, but try not to let it show. "You too. Is your shoulder really okay?"
He shrugs with the wounded shoulder. "After a few stitches..."
"Should I drive you to the hospital?" I say, eyes widening, and step back in the elevator.
He gives me a half-smile. "I am the hospital. Relax. I'm kidding." Then he leans back on the mirror, pulls out his phone, and gives me a brief smile. "Take care."
"You too." I give him a humble smile back and walk out again, watching his body vanish behind the closing doors.
No "we'll do this again." Just the humming blue of thecorridor light and me, standing alone.
It's over. Finally. No more if-onlys. Isn't that what I wanted?
Yes. Now I can come home and tell Richard everything.
Minus the cliff.
