Page 15 of The Art of Professing Love

“Just a moment.” Sylvan held up a hand to shush his cousin, still looking at me with a certain curiosity in his eyes. “I understand what my cousin was trying to do here today, and I think you do as well. But, please, don’t blame them for any of this.”

“I don’t blame them,” I said.

“Good.”

“I blame you.”

Sylvan’s eyes widened, his voice raising to an inappropriate volume for inside a library. “You what?”

The Librarian cringed, making a half-hearted effort to shush their cousin, but neither of us was paying much attention to them anymore.

“If you hadn’t dragged things along with them,” I said, my own voice losing the calmness I had a few minutes ago, “they would never have thought our relationship might have worked out. I wanted to leave after that first date, and somehow you convinced me to go back home with you.”

One of the people nearby looked up from her book. Another leaned into the pages as if he were trying to block out the conversation with the text.

“Don’t be ridiculous! I never forced you to go home with me; you made that decision all on your own.”

“I did it for you.”

“Gentleman, please!” the Librarian whispered harshly. “If you’re going to shout at each other, take it outside.”

“All right,” Sylvan and I said in unison.

I glowered at him, silently daring him to keep talking. “We will.”

I stormed out, Sylvan on my heels, and whirled around to face him once we were safely on the empty side of the parking lot.

“Don’t you ever try to contact me again,” I told him, “and don’t send me any more presents either. We’re done.”

“You got my painting?” Sylvan’s tone changed, his brow relaxing and his eyes softening.

I was caught off guard. “Yes, I did.”

“Did you like it?”

“Never mind that. Did you even hear the first part of what I said?”

“Don’t contact you. Got it. But did you like the painting?”

“It’s…fine. A wholly inappropriate gift for a one-night-stand, though.”

Sylvan snorted. “Of course you would think that. Why can’t you lighten up a little, Irving? Have some fun, let loose. Everyone else does.”

“I do let loose,” I protested. “Remember last week at your place?”

“That was one time. You’re not special just because you had sex once.” His voice rose again. “You know what?”

“What?”

“I’m glad you don’t want anything to do with me because I don’t want anything to do with you either. You’re a miserable man and you deserve someone equally miserable as your partner.”

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that.” I was practically spitting with rage now. “Some of us have to live in the real world so creatures like you can dream away in fantasy land all day. If anything, you should be grateful toward me.”

“Grateful?” Sylvan laughed, leaning in so our faces were mere inches apart, his hot breath making my face flush. “I can’t imagine ever feeling grateful toward you.”

“And that right there is one of your problems,” I shot back. “You don’t know who deserves your thanks and who deserves to be treated like the dirt you step on.”

“Believe me, I care much more about the dirt I step on than you.” Sylvan pointed his finger in my face, pausing for emphasis. I stared back at him, eyes flashing. And before I could stop him, his hands were on my waist and his lips against mine.

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