by Ellie Danes
But of course Ian would be there to drag me right back down in the muck with him. He didn’t even look fazed by the way he was acting.
Craig at least had the good grace to look embarrassed.
But the more I watched Ian, I wasn’t entirely sure he was sober.
“Kate, can I speak with you?” he asked, through somewhat gritted teeth as he leaned down to where my face was, so that he was just a few inches away. Immediately, with him so close, I smelled the alcohol on his breath.
“Seriously?” I questioned, my anger growing. “Been in the whiskey tonight?” The more I smelled his breath, the angrier I got.
“Ian!” the barista called loudly from across the room, but Ian ignored it. He clearly wasn’t interested in coffee at that point.
Instead, he just looked at me, and I back at him. And that’s just how it was, for what felt like decades, but was only a few seconds. I just sat there, letting the situation sink in and fuel my anger.
“I might have had one or two,” Ian muttered.
But then, when I really looked at him, I saw actual pain behind his eyes. Immediately, I felt an emotion I hadn’t intended on feeling from the moment I’d seen him across the room.
I had felt irritation. I had felt anger. I had felt a whole lot of confusion. And God, I had felt a shit ton of embarrassment in front of Craig.
But in that moment, eyes locked with Ian’s, I felt nothing but pain.
He was holding back tears that were visible in the brim of his eyes. It looked like he was ready to cry. His face was reddening by the second, and I wasn’t sure if he was angry or straining of holding the tears back. But whatever it was, I could tell that he wasn’t okay.
I took a deep breath, and tried to figure out what the hell I could do.
I wanted to diffuse the situation; calm it all down before it got out of hand.
Ian was upset, but he had no right to be. This situation was all on him. And despite the fact that I was growing in anger all over again, I smiled at him. Fully intending to have that talk he wanted. Even though he might not like what I had to say. As soon as I did, though, I wished I hadn’t. Because his face darkened, and I watched anger roll over it.
Question was, why the hell was he angry?
Chapter 9
Ian
I didn’t think I was capable of emotions quite as complex as the ones I felt after seeing Kate sitting with another man — sipping coffee, laughing, flirting.
I almost believed my own lie — that Kate hadn’t really been out with anyone. I was wrong. She really was out with someone. And all of a sudden the hurt came rushing back.
I stood at their table and stared at the two of them, feeling anger and hurt well up and fill the gaping hole that was left in my chest.
Kate smiled at me, which hurt, but it started to falter relatively quickly after, just before she glanced over to her date. I wondered if she was scared I was about to make a scene.
I suppose I was, though. Sort of. I mean, I walked over to their table. Still drunk. Angry and upset. I was being immature. I was being petty. But damn it all, this was our place! And I wanted nothing more than to talk to her; to hear her laugh because of me, not some other guy! I wanted to whisk her away and carry her to a magical fucking land where I hadn’t fucked up. I wanted to still be with her. I didn’t want to have lost her.
Kate motioned to me and then glanced back to the guy. “Anyway,” she sounded off abruptly. “Ian… he…uh…” she said as she glanced back at me. But no more words came out. It was like she’d lost her train of thought. Lost what she was about to say about me.
It was like she could see the hurt in my eyes. Like it had distracted her from finishing her sentence. I wanted to smirk. I felt almost good that she felt bad that I looked like a ridiculous emotional mess.
I’d heard her voice as soon as I spotted her. I’d heard her all the way across the busy restaurant with him. She had a cup in hand, taking sip after sip, laughing in between them — at whatever the hell the guy was saying. I wondered if he was that charming.
She looked beautiful, though. I had sighed and turned back to the barista, waiting for my drink, trying to ignore her — but I couldn’t. Not even a little bit.
With her coat off, I could see the black top she wore and the way it hugged her body. It wasn’t seductive. It wasn’t even really what I’d consider “date wear”. It was actually pretty professional, actually. Classy. But the way it fit her made me almost crazy. It was sexy that she could be that hot without even trying.
But if I cared, wouldn’t I be happy that she was happy instead of crushed because I was an asshole?
But she was happy without me.
Her laugh rang through my ear again, almost instantly crushing my heart like a vice. It was loud, genuine.
I both loved and hated how it made me feel.
I wanted to go up the guy, punch him square in the face and growl, “Keep your hands off of my fucking girlfriend!” But it didn’t matter. She wasn’t my girlfriend. I had no right to be jealous.
But I was.
My God, I was.
Chapter 10
Kate
I looked from Craig to Ian, and back again. I knew no good could come from the three of us being in the coffee shop together.
I could tell that Craig wanted to get up and walk away, and I wouldn’t have blamed him. I could tell he was getting nervous, and maybe even a little embarrassed since a few nearby coffee-drinkers were noticing that something was amiss with the three of us.
The situation was getting tense.
I knew Craig felt awkward. I grabbed his hand as soon as it looked like he was about to push his chair back, halting his movements. His head snapped up to look at me.
And immediately, I felt Ian’s gaze on me, too. It was like a razor blade; sharp, cutting.
He was embarrassing Craig — and me for that matter — and I didn’t give a damn that I was basically holding his hand in front of Ian. It served him right. He could take his drunk ass somewhere else and sober up, as far as I was concerned.
And just as I was about to say something — just as I was about to formulate my befuddled thoughts into words — I remembered that this was all sort of my fault, too.
I was who told Ian I was going out in the first place. I was the one who made it sound like it was a date. And I knew that was exactly why he was acting like such a dick. It had to be. Why else would he be?
“Craig, I’m sorry,” Ian said, and immediately I glanced up, hoping it was the end, but I could tell by his facial expression that it wasn’t. He didn’t look apologetic at all. A drunken haze, and slight glaze was still present over his eyes, which were narrowed into dagger slits. His jaw was still angrily clenched, and his nostrils continued to flare. “But I really would like a moment to speak about boyfriend-related things with Kate.”
“Your boyfriend?” Craig questioned, looking over to me, his reflexes pulling his hand away.
“Ye—” Ian started, without me even moving to say a word. “Um, well, actually, no,” he corrected, almost a little snappily. “I’m not her boyfriend.”
I was getting irritated. I couldn’t stand it anymore. Aggressively, I pushed myself up from the table and stood. I huffed and turned my head heatedly toward the door leading outside, gesturing for Ian to go out it.
“You want to talk, let’s talk,” I demanded.
I tried to relax my muscles — and my face — as to not give away what I was really feeling. I didn’t want to give away that I was angry; beyond angry, actually. Not to mention, that I was hurt as well as a shit ton of other confusing emotions.
I took another deep breath as I walked to the front of the coffee shop. I turned my head back around to see Craig watching after us. I threw a half smile over at him and waved apologetically with the other hand as soon as I pushed Ian through the double doors, outside.
“Why did you bring me out here? Aren’t you supposed to still be flirting with that dude?” he
snapped, whirling his head around to look at me as soon as the door shut behind us. He stormed over to the side of the building with emotional disdain plastered across his face.
I took a deep breath and said, “Are you acting like this just because things aren’t going the way you planned? And what exactly was your plan here, Ian?”
“You were supposed to be curled up in bed fucking depressed because we were over! Not out here gallivanting with who-knows-who!” He’d moved off from against the wall, clearly heated. But damn it all, so was I. My jaw dropped, and nothing but scorching heat flowed through me.
“Ex-cuse me?” I whirled on him. “Why are you here and what the hell do you want, Ian?!” I demanded, but instead of responding, he just kept quiet.
I tapped my foot impatiently waiting for him to answer. But he looked down at the ground, his shoulders rising and falling in one long, slow motion.
“What did you expect me to be doing?!” I yelled at him. People were looking at us. “Why the hell should I be laid up in bed sad as fuck when you’re the one that ended it! And with a text message, no less! You didn’t even have the decency for a phone call!”
He kept his stare fixed on the ground, shuffling his feet ever so slightly, ignoring the people staring at us.
“I don't know,” he sighed, “I just thought that—”
“You thought what?” I urged him to continue when he stopped mid-sentence.
“I didn’t expect you to go hanging out with some douchebag!” he countered, and immediately I rounded on him again.
“He’s a nice guy! We were just talking! And you didn’t have to be rude or cause me to be rude!”
But finally, when his head finally snapped up, he cut me off, “You weren't just talking with him, Kate! You were fucking flirting with him! I saw the lust in his eyes. And honestly, I saw it in yours!” He threw his hands up in the air, animatedly. It would have been amusing had I not been so pissed.
“I saw how you were talking to him. You were grinning, smirking, and even twirling your damn hair! That’s not flirting?”
“And so what, Ian?” I said. “That’s what you do when you break up. You move on!”
He looked back to the ground once again, staring even harder than before. I gulped, my throat tightening. Tears were starting to form in my eyes. Not from sadness. From anger. I wanted to smack him in his big fat egotistical head.
“Are you going to talk to me?” I asked. “Because if you’re not, I’m going back inside.”
“I am so fucking jealous right now. And it isn’t going away,” he admitted running a hand through his hair. “So I don’t know if I should talk.”
“You’re not the only one that was hurt here, Ian,” I said. “Hell, before now I didn’t know you were hurt at all. Not really. I knew you looked hurt, but why the hell would you be hurt when you’re the one that did this!”
He didn’t speak and so I turned to leave.
“I want you, and I hate it!” he yelled after me.
I stopped and closed my eyes. Shit…
I couldn’t move, could hardly even breathe. I turned slowly, after gaining some sort of courage that I wasn’t sure was even possible to grab ahold of at the moment, and looked at him. His eyes were wide. I could tell he couldn’t believe what he’d said. I could tell he hadn’t meant to. But I could also tell that he meant it.
He nodded, slowly, and his eyes were dead set on me. People around us were whispering, watching intently, but I didn’t care. Instead, my body turned back to face him and without even realizing it I started by taking a couple of tentative steps towards him until I was face-to-face with him.
“What the hell, Ian?” I whispered.
He grasped my hips in his hands, and pulled me closer to him.
“I just don’t want you to think that you’re not wanted. You are wanted…” he gasped out. “I really want you.”
I blinked back tears because what he was saying was exactly what I’d wanted to hear the entire time.
“I just hate feeling so damned vulnerable,” he breathed, leaning forward so that his forehead was pressed against mine. “I just don't want…” he started, but stopped himself and pulled back slowly from my head.
“You don't want what?” I asked curiously, almost missing the feel of his flesh against mine immediately.
“I don't want my stupidity to ruin everything. I don’t want you to feel like you didn’t matter. You did. You do. I don’t want you to think that I don't want to kiss you; that I don't want to devour you. To take you in my arms, hold you, to ravish you in my apartment all over again. I don’t want you to think I just erased you from my thoughts…”
His words were growing soft, and so was my heart. Damn him.
Chapter 11
Ian
“You broke up with me,” she said, hurt clear in her voice. “Over text message, no less,” she scoffed. “I haven’t even talked to you since until today, and you interrupt my coffee with a friend, acting like you did, and then you throw this at me?”
The thoughts of Kate with another man were killing me, slowly but surely. I was literally going crazy with jealousy.
I could only blame myself for it, though.
But who the fuck was that guy?
He was clearly flirting.
I turned my head to her, pain probably super visible in my eyes once again. I couldn’t hide how I felt. I’d tried. I was usually so much better at hiding it, but not this time. Not in this moment. I knew there was a crowd of people looking — another scene was unfolding — and I hated it, but at the same time, it was worth it.
It was worth it just to be near her.
She had every right to be mad at me. And she was. I knew that she was. She was fuming. So it didn’t make it any better when I asked my next question.
“So, who is that guy, anyway?”
I hoped looking into her eyes would somehow tell me something. But it didn’t. It told me nothing except how gorgeous her eyes were, and how pissed off she was as she looked at me through fiery, narrowed eyes.
“His name is Craig! If that’s what you’re asking! I introduced you! Remember?”
I rolled my eyes. I already knew that. I didn’t give a damn what his name was.
“That definitely isn’t what I’m asking,” I said. “I want to know who he is to you.”
I was upset, and I wasn’t going to hide it. A lot of that was probably due to the alcohol that was still rolling around inside my body, and a lot of it was also probably just overdue. I was sick of always keeping my feelings reined in; always burying them deep. I was sick of that part of me.
“Listen, Ian. I don’t know what the hell you want from me. He’s a friend!” She pulled away from me and took steps back until she was further than she had been before. Clearly she didn’t want to be near me. Not now, and probably not ever after the way I’d treated her. Yet, I couldn’t stop… I couldn’t stop being an ass.
I couldn’t just leave it alone. My jealousy just kept raging on. I couldn’t stand the idea of Kate with him. Or anyone, for that matter.
“You’ve clearly had way too much to drink tonight,” she growled. “So I’m just going to give you the benefit of the doubt and think that you’re not usually this big of an asshole and that everything I knew about you wasn’t total bullshit. Craig and I were just talking. Not that it’s any of your business.”
I hated the way I was making her react; I knew I’d fucked up, but the more I thought about it, the more jealous and hurt I was if she was moving on. And angry. No matter if it was all my fault in the first place. I still felt angry. I still felt a sense of betrayal. Wasn’t she supposed to have had real feelings for me? How could she put that aside so easily? I couldn’t.
“You call that fucking talking? His tongue was basically down your throat…” I growled, not really sure what was coming over me. His tongue was nowhere near her. I was being ridiculous. I knew that I was, but I couldn’t stop.
“Are you sure you’re co
mpletely sane? That you don’t have some mental illness you’re not sharing with me?” She crossed her arms over her chest and I wasn’t sure if it was a defensive movement, or if she was cold — or if it was a mix of both — but regardless I took a step towards her, almost instinctively hoping to hold her close.
But I couldn’t. I knew I had to hold my ground. Not only because I knew she’d slap me, but also because I wasn’t done.
“Oh, so now we’re going to poke at mental illness!” I groaned. “Thought we were on the page where we didn’t do that because of your sister!”
I didn't really even mean to say the words; didn’t mean to have them leave my wide-open trap. But they did.
“It wasn’t what you thought it was. Not that it even matters,” she said, and honestly what she was saying was true. It was reasonable. But I wasn’t. In fact, I was pretty damn unreasonable — irrational even. Nothing I was doing or thinking made sense. The only thing I knew was that I was pissed off, and more than that, I was hurt.
“And how was I supposed to know that? You were leaning in. I came here to forget you and there you are in our place schmoozing with some lame-ass!”
“You really don’t have any reason to be as ridiculous as you’re being right now! You shouldn’t have come over to the table! We shouldn’t be having this discussion! I mean, hell, Ian, if you’d not been a coward and walked away from us, there wouldn’t have even been any worries, now would there?”
“I’m not jealous!” I snapped, although I knew that I was. “I’m pissed off!”
“But why? Why are you pissed off? Please tell me! Because I would love to hear this!” By the end of all that, I could tell that she really was waiting for me to explain. Not because she cared about an explanation, but because she just wanted to yell at me more.
I could tell she wanted it. Maybe even part of her needed it.
But when I couldn’t say anything — when no words came out — I just found her looking at me. Her arms crossed, her face stern and questioning, and very angry.
I wanted, more than anything, to close the gap between us. No matter how upset I was. I wanted to invade every ounce of personal space she had.