She leaned back against the table. “Fine. What do you want me to say?”
Fuck. I hadn’t thought this bit through.
I took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s start with this. How long, Mol?”
“What?”
“How long have you liked me? How long have you had feelings for me?”
“Why? What does it even matter?”
“Because I want to know.”
She stared at me, refusing to speak. So. Fucking. Stubborn.
“Okay, it matters because you said that I didn’t know everything about you. But you know what I do know? I know that peanut butter ice cream is your favorite flavor, even though it’s disgusting. And I know that when you’re concentrating, you like to curl your hair around your pen. I know you love blue because it has so many different shades. You don’t eat any green candy, because green is a healthy color and candy isn’t healthy. And I know that your eyes change shade depending on your mood. So I might not know everything about you, but I do know some things. I know the important things. The little things. And I’d like to know the rest. I want to know the rest of you. And I want to know this. How long, Molly?”
“Did you just compare me to a mood ring?”
“That? That’s what you take away from what I said? For fuck’s sake!” I slammed my fist against the door, making her jump. “I don’t understand why you’re so mad at me. I’m the one who should be mad, especially because you’re being so fucking annoying right now.”
She narrowed her eyes further, scowling as she clenched her jaw before looking away. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad because I don’t want these feelings. I got rid of them and then you…” she pointed at me accusingly, “you came along and kissed me. Then they came back, and I need some space from you so they go away again.”
My belly clenched again. I didn’t like what I was hearing, didn’t like it one bit. “Why do you want them to go away?”
She kicked her foot to the floor, scuffing it as she muttered at me, “You weren’t even really conscious.”
“Because I was full of pain meds after you operated on me. You. The surgeon.” I sighed, not wanting this argument. I hated arguing with her, because we never argued, and it felt all wrong. We teased each other and bickered and had fun, but we never argued. My voice dropped. “Mol, I dreamed about it every night.”
Her eyes shot up, holding mine as my heart raced. “You did?”
“I did.”
“Well, it still doesn’t mean anything. It was just a repressed memory.”
I held her defiant scowl. “That’s not what it was, Molly. Don’t do this. Don’t dismiss me like I don’t know what I’m saying. Mol, we need to talk about this; and I want to know, how long have you liked me?”
“Loved you!” Her fists clenched against her sides, before she took a deep breath. “If you want to talk about it, it’s how long have I loved you. How long have I been in love with you, and that would be twelve years.”
I blinked as I tried to figure out if I’d heard her correctly.
Love?Love?And she saidtwelve years? Right?
I mean we loved each other, butinlove?
For twelve years.
Fuck. Me.
My heartbeat kicked up, like she just attached some jumper cables to it and dialed them to the max.
“Twelve years? You’ve been in love with me fortwelve years? But… but… I was a dick twelve years ago. We were kids, we both were.”
Her defensive glare returned. “Yeah, so? What does it matter? It doesn’t make a difference. Nothing’s going to happen; we just need to get on with our lives, which is what I’ve been trying to do.”
Oh my God, this fucking woman.
“No! You can’t just give me this information and expect me to be okay with it. You don’t get to make a unilateral decision for us, for how this is going to go!”
