Page 38 of The Problem with Dating

There we were, both beyond irritated with one another, shoving the stupid bowl back and forth, back and forth, back and forth until I simply gave up and stepped backward completely, pulling my hold away from the bowl.

As she shoved it back toward me, she let go, and it slipped from her grip, falling to the floor and shattering into a million pieces.

Within mere seconds, her eyes flooded with tears. She swallowed hard, and her hands flew to cover the sob that choked out of her. All because of a freaking bowl. She darted over to the bowl in a complete fit as tears fell down her cheeks. She began picking up the pieces of the broken bowl with shaky hands, and a pound of guilt hit my chest.

Crap.

Sure, I didn’t want the bowl, but I didn’t think she’d break into a hissy fit of emotions from the thing breaking.

I grumbled and bent down to help her pick up the pieces. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Just go!” she barked, wiping her tears. “I should’ve never given you a chance because of a stupid crush that never existed!”

“What are you talking about?”

“It doesn’t matter, okay? We don’t vibe clearly, so let’s stay out of each other’s hair. You don’t come into my shop, and I’ll stay out of yours,” she aggressively spat out, her eyes piercing into me.

That was the point when I should’ve apologized. That was when I should’ve tucked my tail between my legs and told her I was sorry for being a monster each time we crossed paths. She’d somehow managed to cross my path at the worst moments. It wasn’t her fault. But for some reason, I didn’t know how to be soft.

How to admit fault.

How to be human.

So I puffed out my chest and hollered, “Trust me, I’ll never step foot inside this place again, and I wouldn’t have if I didn’t have to give you that thing back!”

She stood to her feet, puffed her chest out, and shouted back. “Trust me, I’ll never step foot inside your stupid restaurant! You and your stupid fusion crappy food!”

“My food isn’t crappy!”

“It’s the crappiest crap!” she argued. “And anyone who eats there is a buffoon!”

“That’s a lie!”

“No, it’s not. Anyone who walks into that stupid place is a clown! You might as well have the hostess put a red nose on each person who shows up.”

“You’re beyond ridiculous.”

“You’re even worse than that!”

“Do you have to get the last word in?”

“Do you?!” she rebutted.

“No, I don’t!”

“Good then, leave!”

“I am!”

“Go faster!”

“I am!” I shouted back, tossing my hands up in frustration.

“Like now!”

“Like I said—I am!”

But I wasn’t. I hadn’t moved. I hadn’t taken one step toward the front door and didn’t know why. I couldn’t stop staring at her. I couldn’t stop looking at the tears rolling down her cheeks. I couldn’t do anything.

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