Page 64 of Unexpected Hero

“Shit. I did it again.” The back of his head hits the headrest when his posture all but collapses.

Did what again? Is he talking about some other woman in front of me? Does he make a habit of saving broke girls from gas pumps, making them feel special for a hot minute, before kissing them for the simple purpose of making them sit still and look pretty?

He may be a bit on the socially awkward side — hey, me too — but he should know better than to talk about another woman a minute after kissing me like that.

And to think I almost kissed him again. Let alone fantasized about giving him my V-card.

Bon voyage to that ship as it sails off in the sunset.

My arms curl around my midsection, and I inhale to steady myself.

“Lettie, don’t you remember what I said a few minutes ago?”

“When you said you only like me when I’m happy? Yeah. Hard to forget.”

“No. Not that. And hey, I didn’t say that.”

“Same difference.”

“What I meant was... remember when I said that I sometimes do or say shit wrong, and if I upset you, please tell me why so I can fix it?”

Oh. Shit. Is that what he meant by I did it again?

Remorse clogs my throat, making my response choppy. “Yes. I recall that.”

“This is precisely what I meant. I didn’t intend to cause this reaction. I don’t want to upset you. I like you and only want to make you happy. Now, please tell me how I made you this upset.”

My head cants to one side as I force my scowl to recede. “You really have no idea why I’m upset?”

He shakes his head dismissively but not at me. It’s directed at himself.

My stupid, soft, pathetic heart thumps erratically, and guilt over my reaction sprouts to life.

I overreacted. In typical Lettie fashion.

At least I’m consistent.

Not only can I kiss whatever this job opportunity is goodbye, but more importantly, my chance at him wanting to get to know me better has caught the express train out of town. No return ticket.

Calmly this time, I attempt to explain. “James, I’m upset for two reasons.”

“What’s the first?”

“Because you said you like me better when I’m smiling and happy.”

“What’s wrong with that? It’s true.”

He seems intelligent. But I’m quite sure his IQ doesn’t extend to interpersonal relations.

“Okay, but what’s the alternative to that?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you say you like me better when I’m smiling and happy, that implies it’s not acceptable for me to be upset. It makes me feel as if you don’t like me any other way. Or that my value is diminished when I’m not shiny happy.”

“That’s not what I... Oh. I think I see now.”

He puts his head down and picks at the denim covering his upper thighs. A nervous tic. Glad to know it’s not just me that’s feeling fidgety right now.

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