Page 128 of Smut

Her voice is thin and reedy and stretched by the anger I know she’s barely holding back.

I raise my hands and inch backward. “I can explain.”

“You asshole!” she yells, running at me, pounding her fists on my shoulders, arms, chest. Damn she has hands like rocks.

“Ow, ow, ow,” I say, trying to shield myself, holding up my knee to keep her back. “Please just listen.”

“You told them our secret!” she yells, her face as crimson as her hair, a vein ticking in her forehead. “Do you know what you’ve done?”

She breaks away and walks back into the living room, her hands grasping her head. “How could you do this?” she whispers.

“Hey, I did it for you,” I call after her, keeping the kitchen island between us just in case.

“What?” she snaps, slowly turning around and coming back to me. “You did what for me?” she asks, leaning against the counter, eyes flashing.

“Look, that tosser of yours and his girlfriend were saying mean things, okay? You know, those underhanded comments about how weird you are and how you’re a dreamer and the usual, good luck with being a writer, you’ll never make it, so what was I supposed to do?”

“They said that?” she asks, horrified.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter! Now they know I’m an erotica author! Do you think that made them respect me? You should have just punched him in the face.”

“I wanted to!” I yell at her. “And it did make them respect you, as they should! You should have seen their faces when I told them. I may have dropped how much money we make too, and believe me, in the long term, it’s more than they’ll ever know. They were impressed, Amanda. I shut them right up in their tracks. Words work better than fists.”

Her face softens with worry, and for a moment I think the anger is fading but then some kind of wall goes back up again and her eyes turn hard and mean. “That wasn’t your secret to tell. Now everyone knows. My parents.” She shakes her head, looking away. “You have no idea what it’s like to be a constant disappointment in your parents’ life. Now I’m practically disowned because of you.”

“Amanda, it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, fuck you!” she yells, spinning around and jabbing her finger in the air. “Fuck you, Blake. You keep telling me what matters and what doesn’t, and guess what? Some things do! Some things do and you don’t get the right to comment on what things matter to me because it’s personal and you should know that. You should know that about me. How do you think your father will feel when he finds out?”

I still and swallow hard. “He doesn’t have to find out.”

“Oh really? Because I’ve already gotten an email from someone at the Victoria Times Colonist wanting to interview us both for being secret successes.”

Fuck. “You didn’t say yes…”

“Of course I didn’t! I wouldn’t betray our trust like that. I’m not like you.”

Now I’m angry. “Hey, I was defending you!”

“And I didn’t need you to defend me. I just needed you to keep your stupid mouth shut for once!”

“You could be a bit more grateful, you know,” I tell her, unable to keep the edge from my voice. “It wouldn’t kill you.”

“Grateful? You ruined everything for the sake of your ego.”

“My ego?” I practically roar. “What the fuck? You’re fucking daft, you know that!”

“We had an understanding. We were in this together. And to think I trusted you. I trusted you with my heart!” she sobs.

I stare at her, gobsmacked, as the rage boils within me. “Your heart?” I repeat incredulously. “You’ve never given me your heart!”

She swallows hard, her chin wavering. She quickly rubs the makeup out from under her eyes and part of me wants to rush over to her, to hold her and tell her I’m sorry and that everything will be all right.

And the other part of me is breaking apart and coming back together, hardened. Not understanding how easily she can flip like this, how she can just say these things like I haven’t meant anything to her, like she’s never trusted me at all.

I had to have meant something to her. It couldn’t have just been in my head.

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