His jaw clenches. “You still dating him?”
“He’s a friend. Did you want to talk about your secret project?” I ask, pushing the attention away from me.
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about the charity event coming up. I was wondering if you would want to go with me,” he says, making my heart race.
Did he just ask me out?
“Like old times,” he tacks on, making my heart shrivel up and die. “You know I hate these events.”
Never mind then. I can’t keep getting my hopes up.
I clear my throat to try and hide my hurt. “I wish you would have asked me sooner. I already have a date.”
The corner of his eye twitches. “You do?”
“Yeah, Clint was also invited, so we decided to go together.”
“Oh…” He looks away, and his knee begins to bounce.
“I thought you forgot about it,” I tell him honestly. “You hate going to those things. I figured you’d just send a check.”
“I wish,” he mutters.
“It’s not too late to find a date,” I say weakly.
Although I’m sure if he brought someone else, I would be jealous the whole night. I feel guilty now for saying yes to Clint. He didn’t want to go by himself, and I didn’t think Max would want to go. I love these events. I figured it was a way for me to enjoy it without having to drag Max into it.
I never thought Max would want to go.
He shrugs. “I meant to ask you sooner, but I didn’t find the time to. It’s okay. I’ll go alone.”
Of course he will. It’s not even a big deal to him to go alone. He probably only wanted me there as a buffer.
For a split second, I contemplate telling him I’ll cancel on Clint and go with him, but I won’t. Not only would that be incredibly rude, but I won’t change my plans just because he wants me to.
“I’ll save you a dance,” I tell him.
“Yeah, sure. You know what? You’re busy, so I’m going to go,” he says as he stands.
“What? You just got here.” I hate that I feel guilty right now.
“I’ll talk to you later,” he says before he stomps out of my apartment.
At the last second, before the door can slam closed behind him, he catches it, letting it close softly. Then I hear him press the lock button, the door automatically locking as he does.
Even when he’s clearly angry, he tries to keep me safe.
I tip my head back and groan.
Every time I feel like we are taking a step forward, I feel like something pushes us two back. Are we making any progress at all? Am I imagining all the long looks and lingering touches?
My phone rings, and I answer it without looking at the screen.
“Yeah?” I answer, annoyance in my tone.
“You left me on read, which isn’t like you,” Clint says with humor in his voice.
“Sorry, Max stopped by for a minute,” I admit.
