walked through with a sunny smile. “Thanks. Anyway, I’m really not that drunk—but we could wait until tomorrow if you’re worried.”
He followed her out of the gate and onto the field, hands shoved in his pockets, the glittering night suddenly dark and oppressive. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to stop this train.
“I’m always free on Sundays,” she said, like they were discussing brunch. “I know you’re often busy, but I’m not asking for a marathon. I’d just need you to pop my cherry.” She snorted at her own words.
He paused, staring at her. “I don’t think that means what you think it means.”
“Oh, my God, Zach, I know what it means.” She laughed and kept walking, or rather, weaving. “I don’t think I’m explaining this very well. I meant my post-divorce… oh, never mind. I just need to get it over with, you know?”
No, he didn’t know. She wanted to have sex with him, but only to get it over with? What a bloody charmer. Zach took a breath and bit out, “I’m not fucking you, and it’s not because you’re drunk.”
She raised her eyebrows, all interested surprise, like she couldn’t quite grasp that the town bike would ever turn a woman down. Unsurprisingly, that pissed him off even more. He was over here twisting himself in knots about her feelings while she acted like he was a foregone conclusion—and not even a pleasurable one. His temper surged.
He stopped walking again and looked her in the eye, just to make sure she really got the message. “I’m saying no—now and tomorrow and next fucking week—because I don’t want to. Is that so hard to understand? Or do you think I sleep with anything breathing?”
“Oh.” She stepped back. It was the tiniest movement—barely even a real step—but it hit him hard. Then she lifted her chin and said tightly, “No. I don’t think that at all. For one thing, I consider myself better than just breathing.”
Oh, fuck. He inhaled sharply. “Rae, that’s not what I meant. I swear it isn’t.”
Her gaze skittered away from his. She looked like she was about to dig a hole in the grass with her bare hands and curl up inside it. Like his words had slapped her and the dizzy, drunken light in her chest had been snuffed out.
“I just—” He grappled helplessly for words. “I just meant… no.”
“It’s fine,” she said softly. “It’s my fault. I mean, I think I just harassed you.” Her hollow laugh was a good effort, but not quite good enough. “Gosh, I really am drunk. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
His heart sagged. He reached for her, but she jerked away.
“You don’t need to make me feel better.” This time, her smile was slightly more believable. “I messed up, and I know it. I’m a big girl.” An awkward silence hovered before she added, “I’m going to head home, okay?”
“I’ll walk you.”
“I have Duke, so—”
“I’ll walk you,” he repeated.
She set her jaw and nodded.
Their journey to the park had been tipsy and sparkling with laughter. The journey to Rae’s house was dark, tense, swollen with things left unsaid. Zach couldn’t keep his eyes off her, couldn’t make his mouth open, couldn’t figure out a way to say, “You’re beautiful, you know,” without making it a consolation. He replayed his own words and cursed the angry panic that had made him harsh. He was never harsh. He hated harsh.
He wondered if, after tonight, Rae would become another friend he used to have.
When they reached her house, he blurted out, “I’m sorry,” a last-ditch effort to save the relationship he was certain had just crumbled.
She frowned at him, clearly confused, and asked, “For what?”
That was… unexpected. He didn’t quite know how to answer. For not being easier. Not being nicer. Not bending over backwards for you and hurting myself to do it.
But he didn’t want to apologise for any of those things. And she didn’t let him. After a pause, she said softly, “Goodnight, Zach.”
And then she went.
4
By the time Monday morning rolled around, Zach still wasn’t sure how to fix the mess of Friday night. He couldn’t forget the stricken look on Rae’s face as she’d clipped out, I consider myself better than just breathing. Maybe he should’ve told her the truth: that he was off sex until he could be sure he was doing it for the right reasons. Or a deeper truth: that she was lovely, she just didn’t do it for him, but