Page 89 of The Worst Guy Ever
“Don’t bother Rob, that’s literally what just happened. You saw me with a man and you thought‘there she is, Hattie the slutty one’. I don’t know what you’re trying to prove here.”
“I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed anything.” I try to reach for her hand, but she yanks her arm away and downs the rest of her drink.
“Have you paid for these?” she asks and I nod. Grabbing her coat from the back of her chair, she weaves her way through the throng of drinkers. I follow as fast as I can but she’s nimble, pushing through the doors and down the street.
“Hattie, wait,” I call after her, dodging tourists to catch up. The sun has set while we’ve been inside and there’s a chill in the air. I want to take her hand, as effortlessly as I have all day, but she’s tucked both into her armpits as she marches on. “I’m sorry. Please don’t go.”
“Of course, there’s no possible way on earth a man could talk to me without wanting to get in my pants,” she shouts, continuing her pace.
“I’m really sorry, I just… I saw him with your phone and thought the worst.”
“Darren is gay, Rob. And even if he wasn’t, I can sleep with whoever I want. You’re not my boyfriend.”
“I’m fucking trying to be!”
“What?” she stops short, spinning to face me. I drag my hands through my hair and catch my breath. This is not how I wanted to have this conversation. “What are you talking about?”
“Why do you think I really brought you here today? I wanted to show you how things could be with us. Without sneaking around, only seeing each other at night.”
“For fuck’s sake, Rob,” she says, throwing her hands up in the air. “Please don’t do this. I already have enough stress in my life. I don’t need more.”
“Is this stressful to you?” I cup her shoulders and step into the space between us. Dipping my head, I force her to look at me. “The time we’ve spent together these past few months has been amazing for me. Not stressful at all.”
“Then what happens when you decide you don’t need this anymore? I’m not waiting around for you to destroy me.” She’s not the only one who would be destroyed if this ended. Even the suggestion of losing her rattles my heart loose in my chest.
“I don’tneedyou, Hattie.” She looks hurt, and I wince at my clumsy words. “Iwantyou. I’m not here because I’m thinking of my dick, I’m here because I... because I...”
“You don’t want this, not really,” she interrupts. “This is how it would be. You don’t trust me, even though I’ve never given you a reason not to. You’ll always be looking for a reason to get out of this, and that reason will always be something I get the blame for. You’ll find someone better.”
“You’re looking for excuses.”
She wraps her arms tight across her chest and shakes her head from side to side, staring at the ground between us. “I’m not capable of having a relationship. You know I don’t do that shit.”
Can’t she see that’s what we’re already doing? How is it so easy for her to pretend there’s nothing going on here? “What if you tried?”
“I can’t. I don’t know how.”
“You need to let me in. Let me help you.”
“What I need is to go home,” she says, pushing past me, and I let her go. Like a complete idiot, I watch her make her way down to the underground station even though we’ll be catching the same train home. I have zero desire to spend another second in London without her. Or anywhere, for that matter.
Chapter 36
Hattie
Afterafewdaysapart, and several nights spent replaying our argument, I’m willing to admit that Imighthave overreacted. Or maybe I didn’t, I don’t know. What I do know is Rob pulled that shit on me out of nowhere, so I’m never getting drunk with him again if he’s going to act all territorial and serious about our little arrangement.
I hate feeling like we’re in a fight, though, especially when we’d been having such a fun day together. Despite me doing a runner, he did the decent thing and followed me to our train home, but kept enough of a distance that I could cool off. Back home, he walked me to my flat in silence, and didn’t argue when I went inside alone.
Obviously, I legged it up the stairs, and peeked behind the curtain to watch him from my bedroom window. The sight of him all slumped in the shoulders as he made his way across the road is not one I want to have as my most recent memory of him, so I’m determined to make amends. And I can’t think of a better way than on my knees on his bedroom floor.
August is in full heat, a sticky summer evening where you don’t need more than a t-shirt, and the air-con in my car is no match for winding all the windows down instead. Maybe after I’ve said sorry, I’ll make us drinks and we can sit out in the garden and watch the sunset.
Rob takes ages to answer the door and when he finally does, he looks the opposite of happy to see me. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to say sorry.” I’ll need a little time to warm up before I can give him more of an apology than that. “And I’m horny.”
“But it’s Tuesday?” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, I’m busy.”
