Then I couldn’t stand it anymore.
“I wasn’t going home with you.”
He said nothing.
“Just because you led me out to your car… I didn’t think you were taking me home.”
“I am taking you home.”
Ugh.Why did he have to be such a dick about it? “I meant, I wasn’t letting you get in my pants or something.”
“I wasn’t trying to get in your pants.”
“Good. Because you weren’t succeeding.”
Silence.
Then: “Where did you think I was taking you?”
“I don’t know,” I huffed.
“Then why did you let me lead you out of the bar?”
“You’re just trying to trick me.”
“Answer the question.”
“Because I was hoping you’d feel me up in the back alley.”
Silence. Ugly, strained silence. I could feel it… he was mad now, for sure.
I glanced over and watched the little vein pulsing at his temple.
“Isn’t that why girls usually let you lead them out of bars?” I said.
Silence again.
“I’m sorry, did I offend you?”
“That’s what you thought I was gonna do?” he asked, in a weirdly low voice.
“No.”
“Then why did you say it?”
“I don’t know. Who cares.”
“Why did you let me lead you out of the bar, Courteney?”
“Because I so enjoy your company.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Just chill, okay? I get that you were trying to protect me in some annoying, warped way.”
“So then why do you have to be such a bitch about it?”
I huffed. “Really? Now you’re calling me names?”
