IRIS
As I sitat the table in the middle of a busy restaurant, my mind races.
Last night I would have let Max kiss me.
I wanted him to kiss me. It was like every single fantasy of mine had come true.
In all honesty, I don’t know if I’ve ever wanted to be kissed so desperately.
Ever since, all I’ve been able to think about is him.
I feel like my mind is a whirl of emotions. I don’t know how to make sense of any of it.
Max never said that he felt anything for me. Sure, he said he loved me and always had, but he could have meant that as a friend. I don’t think he did, though. Not the way he brushed my lip. Or the way he stared as if he could devour me at any second.
I have never seen the side of Max that he showed me. Even when we sat down to watchSurvivor, he sat closer. It felt more intimate.
I forgot all about Clint and the basket he sent, not even sending a thank-you text until Clint asked about it.
I feel like shit. Clint is a good guy. He doesn’t deserve this. It is clear that I am not over Max. I don’t know if I ever will be. I need to break up with Clint before things get too serious. Max said I deserve better, but the truth is Clint does too. He did nothing to deserve anything less than devotion. I cannot offer that to him at this time.
So instead of meeting for an intimate dinner like he had planned, I asked if he could meet for a long lunch instead. It felt more appropriate. Besides, I couldn’t wait another moment.
I need to tell him how I feel as soon as I can. Dating him while having feelings for Max feels like cheating, and it makes my skin crawl. I don’t like it. I feel like I am betraying them both.
I’m sitting at the table tapping the toe of my heel as I wait for him to arrive. The longer I sit here, the more anxious I get.
I look down at my watch and sigh. He was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago. In the grand scheme of things, he’s not that late. This was last minute, and I know getting here can take time between traffic and the number of people milling about. Still, I want him to show up sooner rather than later.
“Hey beautiful. Sorry I’m late,” Clint says, startling me.
He leans down and kisses my cheek before taking a seat across from me.
“All good. I’m glad you could make it,” I tell him.
“Of course, it sounded important.”
The server comes over, interrupting anything I could have said in response.
“I’ll have a Coke, and can we get some bread? I’m famished,” he tells the woman.
Her cheeks turn red as she nods before turning to me.
She likes him. I don’t blame her. He’s good-looking and charming. Maybe I will suggest he get her number before he leaves.
“Water is fine with me. Can we have a few minutes before we order?” I ask.
“Of course. I will be right back,” she says before sneaking a peek at Clint, but he doesn’t notice.
“So I wanted to talk to you about us.”
He sets his menu down, giving me his undivided attention.
“Oh. That doesn’t sound great,” he admits.
Before I can answer him, his phone rings.
“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t normally take this, but I’m supposed to be at the office. Can I have one second?” he asks.
