Present
It’s been nearly two weeks since the almost kiss at midnight, the moment between Pax and me that, for once, wasn’t a patronizing moment to get under my skin. It wasn’t about control. It was something else, and I stopped him because it scared me—but what if I was wrong? What if it was nothing?
Since that night, we haven’t spoken more than a few hellos. He’s almost always gone when I wake in the morning and never comes home before I go to bed. So, when I walk in the door just after five o’clock to find him sitting at the table with his laptop, it’s a surprise.
I walk farther into the room and I stop, staring at him. Unease fills my chest.
When he looks up, he has a smile on his face that I haven’t seen in a while. “Hey, Cass, how was your day?” His voice sounds so calm, and the question is so normal. It doesn’t at all sound like a question a person giving someone the silent treatment would ask.
Tilting my head to the side, I try to figure out his game. “Uh, good. And yours?”
“Pretty good. I got a lot of work done today, so that’s always a good thing.” Pax sounds nonchalant, normal, like he doesn’t have a care in the world, like we haven’t avoided each other for the last two weeks.
He keeps doing whatever he was doing when I walked in, as if I’m not in the room staring at him, watching him with an intense curiosity, waiting for more. He doesn’t even look up.
I can’t hold back any longer. “Are we really going to do this?” I’m not going to pretend everything is fine between us. I’ve done that for years, and I’m not going to back down this time.
Dropping his pen, Pax keeps his head down and doesn’t say a word. I wait, and still nothing.
“Dammit, Paxton, look at me. Talk to me,” I demand, yet he still doesn’t move. It’s like he’s frozen in place, not even breathing. Dropping my things to the floor, I stomp over to where he’s sitting and slam my hand down on the table. “Don’t do this!”
Abruptly, he pushes the chair back, his eyes flashing to mine. I take a startled step backward. His gaze is hard. He has a look in his eyes I’ve never seen directed at me—at others maybe, but never me. He’s angry, and he’s fighting for control.
“I’m not doing anything,” he growls. “You made it clear you don’t want anything from me, so dammit, don’t you dare act like this is about me.” It’s not only his eyes that have a hardness to them; his voice is sharp too. Gone is the friendly greeting from a moment ago, replaced by frustration.
He’s not about to turn this on me; I’m not going to let him. I didn’t start this, he did, and I deserve to know why.
“I did not start this, Paxton Luke, you did, and I deserve more than the silent treatment for two weeks only to come home to you acting as if we’ve been warm and chummy.” I take a step toward him instinctively.
He laughs. He actually fucking laughs.
“Who says chummy?” He laughs even harder. It’s like a game. Everything is always a game between us.
“Dammit, stop trying to avoid this conversation. Admit it, you’ve been avoiding me since New Year’s Eve.” I take another step in his direction, leaving less space between us.
“Fine, maybe I have been, but I’m not now,” he admits, still with a hardness to his voice, a lack of emotion.
Shaking my head, I think about laughing, but I really don’t feel like it. “Well, that’s nice for you, but I want to talk. I want us to talk about that night. I want to explain.” I keep my voice calm even though I feel like I’m about to fall off the edge of a cliff.
The hardness shows a little of itself in his eyes again. “What is there to talk about? I think you made it pretty clear how you felt that night, and I’m just trying to remember that you’re Cass, my sister’s best friend. Cassandra Porter, the girl next door—the girl whose parents are best friends with mine, the Cass I spent my entire youth trying to protect, the Cass who was at every holiday or vacation for most of my life, because all that means something. I’m trying to remember everything I should so I can forget the one thing I shouldn’t think, the one thing that means nothing.” He sounds like he’s out of breath when he steps toward me. We’re now toe to toe, and I realize I’m breathing hard too.
The last words to leave his mouth are my breaking point, and that old hatred washes over me like a tidal wave. It’s so unexpected, although it’s happened to me before, on another day, in what feels like another lifetime. “Don’t you dare say that!” I shout, and without thinking, I put my hands on his chest and try to shove him with all the anger and hurt inside of me. He’s too fast, too strong, and he grabs both of my wrists, holding them against his chest. I try fighting him for my freedom, but he doesn’t let go. He just holds them.
Then we’re back there all over again, back to when the countdown started, and we’re holding each other in an intense gaze, a war between desire and fear. His head lowers, and I go up on my tiptoes. Our mouths touch lightly and we don’t move; we only press our lips together in tenderness. Just when we both decide to relinquish a little control, the doorbell rings. We freeze, our bodies still united by the brief connection of our lips. The air that was once heavy around us begins to dissipate with every chime of the bell.
Then we hear his voice—the person who isn’t really between us, but is there still.
Pax lets go of my arms and takes a step back. The hurt and anger have returned. The doorbell rings again. “I think you better get that.” He grimaces, then adds, “Never mind, I’m on my way out, so I’ll be more than happy to let him in.”
“Paxton, I…”
He grabs his coat and shakes his head. “No, Cass.”
I don’t move as I watch him walk away from me, open the door, and greet a surprised Richard, “Hey Dick, she’s all yours.” Paxton’s voice is full of tension. I hear it, and it’s like a knife to the heart.
I stare at him until the door is closed and Richard is left staring at me with a confused look on his face.
“What the hell was that all about?” Richard begins walking toward me. I shake my head a little and place a small smile on my face.
“Oh, he was annoyed at me because I…I yelled at him for forgetting to pick up more coffee and creamer. You know how I need my coffee in the morning. Anyway, I overreacted a little and was a bitch about it,” I lie. Changing the subject, I ask, “What are you doing here?”
Shrugging, Richard gives me a hug and I hug him back, my mind still on Paxton. “I thought I’d stop by and see if you wanted to have dinner.”
“Oh, umm, sure—sure, just let me get changed. I only just walked in the door a few minutes ago.” I don’t wait for a response, I just leave him in the living room while I go change my clothes.
When I close the door to my room behind me, I lean up against it, sliding to the floor with my hands over my heart. I’m afraid if I let go, all the hurt and sadness will pour out until my heart is broken beyond repair.