Page 86 of Offside

I narrowed my eyes at him. He held it without flinching, and his eyes did that quiet warm thing that was its own giveaway, and I pointed at him before I could stop myself.

“Don’t you dare find this cute.”

“I’m not finding anything.”

“You have a face right now.”

“I’m just standing here.”

“Ryan.”

“Maren.” He said my name low and even, and it landed in my heart in the annoying way it always did. “Can we sit down?”

I sat. He took the other end of the couch, close but not crowding, angled toward me. The untouched wine glass was still on the coffee table between us. He glanced at it and said nothing.

“It wasn’t what you thought it was,” he said.

“I know that.”

“She came up behind me. I didn’t⁠—”

“Ryan.” I said his name more sharply than I meant to. “I know. I came out of that bathroom and watched you move her hand off you and tell her no. I watched your face the whole time and I know exactly what happened. I saw how uncomfortable you were.” I exhaled. “I’m not upset about what happened. I’m upset because I had to sit there and I couldn’t say a single thing. Couldn’t look at you, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything except make jokes to Cole while she had her hands on you and I had to sit across that table and pretend I didn’t feel anything. That it didn’t matter.” My voice went slightly uneven at the end. “I know it’s dumb.”

“It’s not dumb.”

“It’s a little dumb.”

“It really isn’t.” He said it plainly, no performance, no softening. “And I’m sorry. Not for what I did, because I did try to stop it right away. But I am sorry for what you felt because of me. It wasn’t fair.”

I studied him for a moment. “Was she nice? She seemed nice. That almost made it worse.” I was pouting now.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t listening.”

“You weren’t—” I stopped. “She was talking directly into your ear.”

“I was looking for you.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. I pulled at a loose thread on the hem of my shorts and did not say anything for a moment because if I said anything it was going to come out wrong.

“That’s a really good answer,” I said finally. “I hate it.”

“Älskling,” he started. The word softened me, warmed my skin a bit and I didn’t even know what it meant. It was said with such affection though, I took a deep inhale.

“I was perfectly fine until she touched you,” I admitted, ignoring whatever he’d just called me. I heard myself and winced. “I’m aware of how that sounds.”

“How does it sound?”

“Unhinged. Jealous⁠—”

“So you were jealous.” His voice had a teasing lilt to it that wasn’t quite a smirk but was adjacent to one, and I pointed at him immediately.

“Don’t.”

“I’m just⁠—”

“Ryan.” I really didn’t want to admit the longer he sat here patiently, kindly, warmly listening to me with his usual calmness, I was realizing I may have overreacted.

“You were a little jealous.” Now he was teasing me and enjoying it.