Page 17 of Give Me a Chance
“Fuck,” I mumble, just as Anne comes back.
“Where did she go to?” she asks.
“I fucked up.” Big time. I don’t treat women that way. My mom taught me better.
But this one woman breaks all my fucking rules. Typically, I don’t curse much, and I’ve usedfuckten times in the last minute. I slide my hand through my hair, messing it up in the process.
“Don’t you think it’s time you tell me what’s going on with you two?”
“I may have acted like an asshole, but this is something you need to ask her, not me. In the meantime, please don’t ask me tolunch if she’s coming.” I drop a couple of bills on the table, and we head back to the office.
11
NATALIE
The nerve of him.
A nice guy, my ass. It’s all pretend. It always is. They’re only nice as long as they get their way.
Rage speed-walking to the office makes me winded, but doesn’t calm me down.
I don’t want to calm down. He deserves my anger. He deserves more than one person calling it like it is, but if there aren’t more candidates, I’ll gladly carry the burden.
Besides, calming down will lead to noticing things—like the dark flecks in his emerald eyes when he’s pissed, the set to his jaw, or the way his biceps strained against his shirt when he crossed his arms over his chest.
Those silly, little details are completely insignificant in the total scheme of Matt Anderson. He’s an asshole...in a nice guy package.
He thinks he has the right to judge me? To judge who I decide to sleep with? Fuck that guy.
I spend the rest of the workday ignoring the right side of the office. The clock strikes five, and I storm out of the office. I amstill seething, too mad even for yoga, so I prepare for a night of bingeing ice cream and watching Netflix.
Unfortunately, I’m not that lucky because as soon as I leave the building, Anne runs after me, yelling for me to wait.
“I’m done with you two. So, we’re going to grab a drink—right now. And you’re going to tell me what the hell is going on.” She scolds me, a behavior so untypical for her I don’t have the nerve to say ‘no.’
“OK,” I say, quietly, and she lets out a breath of relief.
“Hey, do you have time to join us for a drink?” Anne asks Rina just as she exits the building.
“Sure. Connor’s picking Eric up, anyway.”
“Great. Let’s go.” This ‘angry mom’ Anne is scaring me.
We walk behind Anne in silence as she sets a fast pace. She stops and opens the door of a bar—the same one where it all started over a year ago. She leads us to an empty table in the least crowded part of the bar, and I slump into the brown leather seat.
“What’s going on? Is everything ok?” Rina asks Anne, concerned about her behavior.
She sighs. “This one here,” she points at me, “is finally going to tell us what is up with Matt and her before I strangle them both in their sleep.”
“Fuck, finally.” Rina perks up.
The waiter takes our order, and Anne hurries me with her hand.
“So . . . I think it’s safe to say we hate each other.”
“No kidding,” Rina murmurs.
“Quit stalling.” Anne isn’t joking around.
