Page 78 of Unbossly Manners

He threw the stick into the brush behind me. “Why do you have to be so vulgar?”

“I’m trying to get you to be honest with me and stop avoiding my question.” My voice rose, high and tight. “You can’t be angry at me for that.”

“I’m not angry.” He slammed his boots on the ground and stood. “You keep pushing me.”

“Because you’re lying to me!”

A family who’d been a few hundred yards behind us had also reached the top but didn’t stop long as our voices reached a crescendo.

“I’m sorry.” He shoved his arms through the arms of his backpack. “I’m stressed because of work.”

“Bullshit. What else happened? Tell me.”

“We kissed.” His hands flew up. “Okay. That’s it.”

My palm flew to my mouth. I dug deep in my brain but I couldn’t excavate the memory of a kiss.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” I brought my hands on my hips, demanding answers.

“I didn’t want you to know.”

My gut spasmed as if it had been punched.

“Why not?” My voice was low, raspy, weary.

“I didn’t want you to think it meant something.”

I sucked in a sharp breath, my arms dropping to my side.

“Who initiated the kiss?” I asked softly.

He gripped the straps of his backpack, shuffling his feet, avoiding my eyes. “You did.”

“And you felt bad for me so you kissed me.” I could just picture it. Me, off my nut, clawing at it, asking him to hold me, to kiss me. I wanted to fold into myself and disappear.

“It wasn’t like that.” Jackson stepped toward me, but I shoved past him.

“Forget it.”

A pity kiss. I shut my eyes as that sunk in, lumbering down the trail. My boot caught on a root, and I clutched a branch above my hand rebalancing, my heart racing.

“Are you okay?” He called from behind, his feet crunching on the small rocks and dirt.

“I was obviously out of my mind if I wanted to kiss you.”

“Why do you say that?” he asked, his blue eyes locking onto mine.

“You didn’t even want to kiss me!” I continued down the mountain, wanting to outrun the revelation.

“Peyton, slow down.”

“I don’t even remember it, so let’s forget it,” I called over my shoulder. “In my world, it didn’t happen.”

“Why are you mad?” he asked, his voice strained.

“I’m not. It just threw me,” I said, but even I could hear the overly-bright, fake tone.

My foot slipped on the little pebbles and rocks and I skidded several feet down the path. Jackson hurried to my side and grabbed my waist. He yanked me up, hard, his fingers digging into my ribs.

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