Page 37 of The Writer
“So, you let me sit here and talk about my stuff, my family, and then won’t indulge me with a few simple getting to know you conversations?” She sounds pissed.
“I don’t like talking about family. I don’t have a big family like you, and honestly, I’ve been pretty shitty to a lot of people, and I’m not going to run my mouth just because you asked a few questions.”
“Wow. Dick alert.” She drinks some of her coke, leans back.
“What?”
“Well, considering that I’m pretty sure I called you to hook up, and that I didn’t want food or conversation, and that you instigated this whole dinner thing, what the hell is going on?” She points her finger at me, as if accusing me of some heinous crime. “It’s all on you, Blake. I mean, if all you wanted was another session, come on, let's go, we can have a quicky in the toilet.”
“You’re being ridiculous.” I shake my head and take a breath. I can feel my calm start to slip, and I don’t want to fight.
“No. You’re acting like a child. You wanted dinner. You were happy to talk. I gave you an out of discussing anything by keeping this in buddy mode, but you pushed. And now I’ve not even asked you anything personal, and you’re shutting me down?”
“If you’d calm down-”
“Oh, piss off, Blake. I don't have time for morons.” She stands and walks around the table, marching towards the exit.
Hell, this was not how this was supposed to go. “Ivy, wait. I didn’t mean that. I’m happy to talk, but that doesn’t mean you have a free pass.”
She stops and turns to me. “You know, you don’t get to pick and choose, Blake. You answer everything, or you don't at all.”
“Err, Sir. Your bill.” One of the waiters makes a beeline for us, and I roll my eyes. I take more than enough cash from my wallet, hand it to the guy, and follow her outside.
“Wait,” I call, watching her storm towards her Porsche. “Would you stop!” I shove the car door closed, barring her from leaving.
“You’ve got about five seconds before I make you regret that, Blake Rhodes.”
“Really? I doubt that. And don’t walk out on me when we’re in the middle of a discussion. What kind of stuck-up princess are you? Storming out the minute I push back against you is more childish than what you're accusing me of.”
“Christ, you really don’t know when to quit, do you?” She folds her arms over her chest in defiance, but that only taunts my bad mood.
“Well, you’re making a fucking mess out of this,” I challenge.
“Me? All I wanted was to get to know you. What’s so wrong with that? I guess I misjudged you after all.”
“So, me not giving you chapter and verse changes the way you see me? Let me remind you, I’ve done nothing. You have to respect my boundaries. You might not have any, but I sure do.” Jesus, she's making me so fucking mad, and for what?
“Look. You pushed for this. Don’t clam up just because I asked you a hard question. This is a two-way street.” She motions between us. “I’m not going to be the only one at the table. I didn’t want your life history, but I’m not going to hang around if you can’t open up about the little things.”
“Family isn’t a little thing to me, Ivy. And you know what, perhaps I was wrong about you, too.”
“Fine.”
I back away from the car and watch as she wrenches the door open and slams it shut behind her. She revs the engine and peels out of the car park, her annoyance taken out on the wheels as they squeal around the first corner.
Fuck.
I scuff my boot through the dirt, kicking at a few loose stones.
Well, that went well.
Walking out of the car park and down the road, I heave in some much-needed fresh air to clear my head. I'm still fucking pissed by the time I reach the junction to the railway. She wouldn’t stop, just wanted to know more and more. Sharing isn’t my thing, especially about my past, and there's no way in hell I'm ready to talk about that. But after that showdown, I have to wonder if that’s what it’s going to take. After all, she was right about it being my idea for dinner. I didn’t want to just hook up with her then, don't now, either. There was something between us that made me get on that plane, so why the hell I've just pushed back so hard is a fucking mystery even I can't fathom at the moment.
The walk doesn’t give me any answers, but at least it calms me down enough to send a text.
I’m sorry. I’m not used to sharing.
Understatement of the year. At least there are feelings involved. There’s no way we could both get so fucking pissed if we didn’t feel anything. I just hope she’ll give me an opportunity to apologise and give it another go. After all, I told Dan I came back to see where this could go. I owe it to myself to fix this.
