Page 25 of Pitiful Lies

Clearing the air isn’t easy for me. I know I have this rep of being confrontational. Like tossing beer in Angel’s face when I thought he was Nico.

But the truth is, it’s easier for me to stick up for my family or my friends than it is for me to stick up for myself.

“I know,” I reply, and pause while he gets our drinks.

I take them from him and sit them down in their holders. Then, I busy myself opening our environmentally safe straws and pushing them through the plastic tops as he pulls out of the lot.

They’re not cardboard, and I am glad. I hate those. Nothing ruins coffee faster than having to sip it through a paper straw.

Anyway, the action is so normal. Just something a million other couples do every day when driving together.

But it’s nothing we ever shared.

Our relationship has always been hot, frantic, sexual encounters, and none of the tenderness or normalcy others seem to have achieved with little effort.

I want that. And even though I am embarrassed by my need, it’s time I own it.

I know it’s a bad idea to get involved with Angel again. I just have to tell him.

“We’ll be home in a couple of hours. You can nap if you want to,” he says, breaking my reverie.

He looks pensive, like he cares, and that does something inside me I know I need to ignore.

It’s a dangerous path to tread, thinking this man has feelings for me. He doesn’t. I know he doesn’t.

“I’m not tired,” I reply.

“Okay. You wanna talk?” he asks, surprising me.

“I do. I mean, I have to tell you,” I start, but it’s so damn hard. I huff a breath and turn my head away. I can’t look at him and say this.

“Look Angel, about what happened before?—”

“Giselle, you can tell me anything,” he says, shocking me, and I turn back to look at him with my mouth open.

“Look, I know what happened earlier was just everyday shenanigans for you, but it was a mistake. And it can’t happen again,” I blurt, narrowing my eyes.

Angel doesn’t answer, but his eyebrows narrow.

My nerves are beating me to death, but maybe that’s because I just fucked myself. I mean resisting Angel’s attentions doesn’t seem like something I am capable of, so laying it out is the only way I know to do this.

I stew in my seat. My best friend is married to his cousin and my new bestie is married to his closest friend. There is no way we won’t be running into one another, and I need to get this out.

“You didn’t enjoy this morning?” he asks.

“No—” I start, but he slides me a look and I have to correct myself. “I mean, yeah, I enjoyed it. You know I did,” I admit, “Angel, that’s not the point.”

He shakes his head.

“Then what is the point? I make you feel good, and you sure as fuck make me feel good. So, why can’t we do that again?”

He makes it seem so simple.

“Because!” I practically shout the word.

“Because why? I need words, Koukla. Tell me why we can’t do that again,” he demands, and it’s like I can’t refuse him even though I try.

I close my eyes, willing some strength into my spine. It’s like he won’t stop, won’t relent, until I reveal every secret aspect of myself.

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