Page 10 of Serenade Me

“No, please, stop. I’m not laughing with you, I’m definitely laughing at you.”

“So? I can laugh alongside. I’m a happy, laughing type of guy.”

“You’re an arrogant ass, is what you are.”

“There’s no reason I can’t be both. My parents always said I was an overachiever. I bet yours said the same.”

I stop laughing. And I don’t mean to, but my face freezes for a second, and then falls. Shit. After all this time, I still can’t control it.

He notices. Damn, he fucking notices, and asks, “What’s wrong?”

The last thing I’m worried about, though, is sparing his feelings, so I don’t bother.

“I don’t have parents, hotshot. But thanks for reminding me that I had no one to care if I was achieving or not. See you ‘round. Try not to depress anyone else tonight.” I hoist the strap of my handbag higher on my shoulder and spin to leave.

His hand on my arm stops me, and I fight with myself to tear it away, ignore him. But I know I can’t.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” There’s something genuine in his voice. Probably the first I’ve heard out of everything he’s said to me. I inwardly roll my eyes, knowing I might’ve gone too far and face him again.

My shoulders rise in a quick shrug, like I’ve brushed it up. “It’s fine.”

“No, really, um,” he lets out a short laugh exhale. “fuck, I feel really bad. Let me make it up to you, buy you a drink, prove I’m not really an asshole… unless you’re a recovering alcoholic, in which case I’ve stepped in it again and am just going to go stab myself with a breadstick.”

“Make it an ice pick and I might consider giving up alcohol for life.”

“Come on, one drink. It can be orange juice, just to prove I’m not trying to get you plastered and into bed.”

“I’d rather not, Lothario. But fine, I’ll accept your apology. Good night.”

“I’m not a Lothario.”

“You had me fooled with your speech and all. Do you roll that out for every woman you meet or is it just for weekends and public holidays? Because, either way, it needs work.”

“Seemed to work on you.”

“You seem to have mistaken my politeness for some sort of implication that you had any effect on me.”

“Oh, so your silence…”

“I was trying to think of something to let you down easy, buddy. You know, because you were so taken with me. I realize now that you actually do liiiike me, and all that tosh about it just being to win an argument is to spare your poor playboy rejected feelings.”

“Hmmm, one does seem to be feeling a sense of nostalgia for that silence.”

“You got it.”

“Surely you can’t let me have the last word.”

“You don’t.”

“Fine, good night.”

“No, I said good night first!”

“Well, I said it second. And last. Good night, silent girl.”

“NO!” I suddenly realize I’m chasing after him. “Hey, come back here!”

He spoons around, with that shit. Eating. Fucking. Grin. Again. “Hey, if you want me so bad, you just had to say.”