It’s louder over here, and I fight to keep close to them when they slip through a busy group near the largest fish tank. I can only hear them in the earbuds, and even then, it’s a bit staticky.
Finn’s baseball cap is still visible, and I focus on it. “There’s no need to be. I’m easy.”
“It’s not every day I’m asked to do this. Let alone with someone like you. Regardless of the circumstances, I still want to impress you, I guess.”
“Just be yourself. You don’t have to worry about impressing me.”
I flinch.
He says it so easily. Like he means it, which I know he does. My stomach sours as I think back to every date I’ve been on in the last year and how not a single man has ever said that to me.
I’ve heard other things that I wish I could forget. Like, “Please don’t argue with me” or “Why can’t you just let me pay for you?” There have been worse, sometimes cruel words that have been said when I haven’t been able to let certain things go. I’ve heard plenty of “Can’t you smile a bit more?”and “Have you ever considered not being such a cold bitch?”
The feeling of knowing you’re wrong for someone doesn’t get easier to swallow, regardless of how many times you’rereminded. I’ve never claimed to be the type of woman who most men enjoy going out with, but as the weeks and months,hell, even years go by, I’m realizing there may not be a single man on this earth who’s going to feel differently.
My steps are slow as I follow the two of them through the exhibit. Being here suddenly feels more like a punishment than a learning experience. If anything, I think the only thing I’ve learned is that a guy like Finn isn’t in my future. His understanding and patience isn’t shared with ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the male population, and watching him dote on a woman who he’s not even interested in isn’t doing anything for me besides hurt that sensitive part of myself that I wish didn’t exist.
My eyes begin to burn, and I’m quick to blink the moisture away before it can escape. I’ve already stepped away from the crowd of excited kids and turned back toward the bathroom a few feet to the left. Frustration burns like fire beneath my skin as I push the door open and duck into an empty stall, locking it with shaky fingers.
Blowing out a breath, I pull my phone from my bag and end the call I’ve been on this entire time, trying to focus on something else. Work, a friend, a fucking notification from the Solitaire app I check every night,anything. I swipe up on the screen and scroll my eyes over a few emails and calendar reminders before finding a text from Brielle.
Elle: Spa this week? I’m making Wes pay.
I tap out a reply while ignoring the way I’m pressing my lips together, willing them to stop quivering.
Me: Please. Just us, right?
She doesn’t reply instantly, which means she’s probably back at work. Brielle’s recently opened her own clothing boutique and works herself to the bone. Our work ethic is one of the things we have in common and what connected us so quickly when the guys introduced us. Being around someone with a like-minded point of view has saved me from one or fifty mental breakdowns over the years.
I want to spill everything I’m feeling to her right now, but knowing that she wouldn’t notice my messages until later has me shutting that idea down. The moment I leave this bathroom, it’ll be with my feelings locked away and the key lost in the sewage pipes. There won’t be any talking about them later.
My phone flashes with a call, and I let loose a rough, ragged laugh while I stare at the contact photo. The silence surrounding me becomes unbearable before I answer, bringing it up to my ear.
“It’s rude to call a woman when she’s in the washroom.”
“It would be worse if I’d stormed inside a women’s washroom while a thousand little kids are running around, wouldn’t it?” Finn rumbles.
I turn in the stall and face the door, inhaling slowly. “I just wasn’t feeling well for a minute.”
“Are you alone in there?”
“You can’t come in.”
“Come out, then.”
“I’ll be out in a few minutes. It’s rude to leave your date for a quick bathroom rendezvous,” I say lightly, pressing the corner of my thumbnail beneath my eye when it starts to burn again.
“What’s wrong?”
“Maybe I just got my period.”
“Did you?”
I pause, clenching my jaw when more pressure builds behind my eyes. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
“And I’ll be waiting right here.”
It’s damn near impossible not to cry now. I hang up before he can hear the laboured breath I suck in when my chest quakes. It’s regret that slashes through me now. The kind that has me wishing I’d never dragged him into this mess in the first place, because now that he is, it’s him that I’m comparing every man I’ve ever gone out with to. He’s the person I’m going to go into every next date expecting.
