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.