An interminable silence follows in which she remains frozen. Has she taken a single breath since I started talking? Maybe she’s trying to induce a real seizure to get out of responding.
Because she’s clearly not responding positively.
Her brown eyes cloud over, her shoulders rise and fall and then words finally form. Her voice trips over what I now know to be the two worst words in the English language. “I—can’t.”
Ah. Ouch. Thought the pain couldn’t get worse. Universe needed to prove me wrong, I guess. Do people actually survive hurt like this? I drop my gaze to the floor. Looking at her makes it worse. Eyes are stinging.
Her breath hitches. “I... It isn’tyou. I’m— I can’t—”
“You don’t need to qualify it, Jocelyn.” My voice is miraculously steady. “It only makes it worse.”
Ten seconds of silence elapse.
“Take a shower,” I say. “I’ll pack up and we can head to the airport.”
Another few awkward moments pass before the bathroom door clicks closed, and I’m alone in the bedroom, staring at a luxurious bed full of regret.
One good thing about Joss not loving me: She bought a neck pillow. Shoulder is pain-free when we land.
Silver linings, am I right?
She makes a valiant effort at correcting the awkwardness between us, but I can’t play along. Too worn down to pretend. By the time we’re in my truck, she’s mute. Given up on me, I suppose.
Can’t blame her. I have to be the most pathetic man she’s ever dealt with. Why would she even want to remain friends after this?
At her front door, I set down her suitcase. “Thanks again for coming with me.”
She nods, arms crossed. “Yeah, of course.”
I flee down the porch stairs, two at a time.
“Asher—”
I don’t stop. “Yeah?”
Her gentle voice floats through the air between us. “Bye.”
“See you around.”
No answer follows, and I hop in my truck without looking at her again. There’s no relief in being free of her. If anything, it’s all the more bleak. Lonelier.
Back at my cold, empty house, I unpack the small suitcase I brought. When my fingers tangle in the G-string still wadded in my pants pocket, they clench involuntarily.
Can’t believe that was last night. Less than twenty-four hours.
How can so much change in so little time? Feel hollow, like I’m coming home from a war where the battleground was my chest, and the fight left nothing but scorched, barren nothingness.
Jeez. I’ve gotten maudlin in my heartbreak. Need to snap out of this.
But like... she said she was sure. Why say it when she knew she didn’t want more? She took advantage of my feelings for her. Used me to satisfy her own sick curiosity.
At the reality of that thought, a lightning bolt strikes the barrenness, bursting it into flames.
You’re my Lamborghini.
Did she really fucking say that? I drop the lacy fabric in my hands to pull out my phone.
“Asher?” Geoff answers on the third ring. “You back? How was the wedding, man?”
