Page 12 of Who I Really Am
I eye her over my cup. “Well, whatever you do, do not tell Tripp that. He’ll only get a big head.”
She rolls her eyes, but I see a kindred smile, “Too late for that—and I see he’s not the only one.”
“Oh, trust me, I know.” I enjoy her smile,
She surprises me by bringing her coffee and pulling out the chair across from me. It’s gratifying to know she doesn’t take me for a total creep.
She stirs in an obnoxiously large amount of cream, sets the spoon aside, and sips. I like having her near, but I don’t know what to say. I can’t say any of the things I’m thinking, things like,man, you’re gorgeous,orwhat were you thinking,or the completely rogue,any chance we can pick up where we left off.
Once or twice we make awkward eye contact. Still holding my mug, I sit back. The table is wide, but my intention is to give her more space, regardless of the fact that she’s the one who sat across from me. Truthfully, her actions are more than a bit confusing.
I tap my mug and dive in. “Don’t feel bad. The morning after is always jacked up, but I must say this one does take the cake.” I have the sense I’m passing along new information, but who am I to say she’s not an expert on this awkward dance herself? Secretly, I’m hoping she’s not, for my buddy’s sake and all—but what are the odds of that?
“Do you ever stop?”
“Rarely.”
“Well, now would be a good time.”
“Hey, only trying to help.”
“You’re obnoxious.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
I eagerly await a flippant comeback, but instead, I watch tears fill her eyes. At first, I think she’ll flee, but she droops back, pulling a knee up and wrapping it in her arms, perching her chin on top. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”
Truth? I’ve been served this line more than once in my day.
“I’ve never gone home with someone I didn’t know.”
But she has with someone she did? I think that’s what she’s saying and I’m part relieved, part disappointed. I freely acknowledge that the disappointed part is antiquated, sexist, and hypocritical.
I drum my fingers on the wooden surface. “Well, if I may, I strongly suggest you never do it again.” It’s Tripp I’m speaking for now.
The tears abate, and she throws herself against the cushion of the chair, still clutching her knee. “You are such a—”
“Hypocrite? Yes, I am aware of that.”
Tossing her head back she growls at the ceiling. “Men.”
So help me…I lean in to make my point. “Do you have any idea…you have to realize how dangerous that was, Annalise!”
She glares. “I had a gun.”
“Which I took from you in two seconds flat.”
Her eyes cut away.
“You need training with that thing.”
“I’ve had training.”
“Clearly you need more.”
Another glare. “Tell that to Tripp.”
Not on my life.