Page 67 of Dreaming of Dawson

“Yes. Like I said, this is a really bad idea, Dawson. I knew it would be, right from the start, and I’m sorry… I’m sorry I let things go this far.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says. “But I don’t get it. You like me, and I think it’s pretty obvious I like you, so…”

“You’re my boss,” I say, interrupting him as I pull back, releasing myself from his grip. That means letting go of his arm, too, and I regret that… just like I regret having to come clean, which I know I’ll have to.

“I know that.” He pushes his fingers back through his hair, looking confused. “What’s the problem?”

“It’s a recipe for disaster.”

“Why? What makes you say that?”

“Experience,” I murmur, although he obviously hears me and steps closer again. His eyes darken, and I realize I owe him the truth. He clearly wants this as much as I do, but it can’t happen, and the very least I can do is explain why. I can’t look at him, although he reaches out and places his finger beneath my chin, raising my face until our eyes lock. He seems troubled… maybe even a little lost and I have to wonder… “Do you need a drink before you hear about it?”

He stifles a half-laugh. “Fuck, yes. But I’m not gonna have one.” He looks around the room. “If you’re gonna tell me your life story, and I’m gonna have to be sober to hear it, can we at least go somewhere more comfortable?”

“Of course.” It’ll give me time to work out where to start, and what to say.

He takes my hand, leading me out of the room, and although I expect him to return to the bar, he doesn’t. He unlocks the door that leads up to his apartment.

“Why are we going up here?” I ask, putting my foot on the first step, but turning to face him.

“Because I said I wanted us to be comfortable.”

“I know. But we could be comfortable in the bar, couldn’t we?”

“We could. But I just told you I need a drink… and this is the time of night when I’d usually empty a bottle, and maybe start a new one. It’s taken me most of the day to feel vaguely human again. I’m still getting accustomed to being sober and how that feels. The last thing I need is to surround myself with temptation.”

“You’ve been surrounded by temptation all day,” I say and he pauses for a moment before nodding his head.

“Yeah. In different circumstances. I have a feeling I might not like what I’m about to hear.”

“I have a feeling I might not like telling you.”

“I’d like to say we could leave it and save ourselves the trouble, but I need to know why you think we can’t be together.”

“Iknowwe can’t be together, Dawson.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he says and nods up the stairs.

I turn away and climb up ahead of him, waiting until he’s switched on the lights before I move further into the room.

“Take a seat,” he says. “I’ll get that coffee you didn’t want.”

“When did I say I didn’t want it? If memory serves, I said I couldn’t stay for coffee, not that I didn’t want to.”

He holds up his hands. “Okay. I’m still gonna make it now. I think we both need it.”

He’s probably right, and while he goes into the kitchen, I make my way to the far end of the room, although I don’t sit down. Instead, I wander to the glass doors that lead onto his balcony, and gaze out at the snow-laden rooftops opposite. The sight of them makes me I realize I ought to text my aunt, just in case she’s not asleep yet, and I pull out my phone, sending her a quick message. I don’t explain why I’m still here, but just tell her I’ve decided to stop for a coffee with Dawson, and leave it at that. It’s unlikely she’ll even pick up my message until the morning, and I can explain it all then… somehow.

“Here you are,” Dawson says, and I turn to find him standing behind me, holding two cups of coffee. He offers me one and I take it, stepping over to his couch and sitting down. He waits until I’m comfortable, and then sits beside me, leaving a gap between us.

“I just sent a message to my aunt,” I say. “She’s probably gone to bed already, but I didn’t want her to worry.” He nods hishead as I put my cup on the table in front of us, and he copies me. “At least it hasn’t started snowing again yet.”

“No… and you’re stalling.”

“I know I am.”

“Why? Don’t you trust me?”

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