The words were hard to hear, and I don't mean because
he spoke too low, or mumbled. They were hard for me to
he spoke too low, or mumbled. They were hard for me to
listen to because I didn't know what to say. I didn't want
him to miss me.
I sat across from him, instead. The recliner's springs
sometimes poked through the faded material, though I'd
tossed a fleece throw over it. One did now, and I winced
as I shifted.
'I do,' he said, as though my expression had been in
response to his statement and not a coil of wire in my butt.
'Austin.' Nothing else would come out.
He shrugged. I hadn't falen in love with him because of his
way with words. Back then it hadn't mattered if he spoke
more with his hands than his mouth. Back then we'd both
been young and dumb.
'You look good, Paige. This place,' he gestured, 'it's nice.'
'Thanks.'
His hair used to be bleached almost white by the sun, and
he wore it so short I could see his scalp. When I ran my
fingers through it, my nails scraped skin. Now it fel
fingers through it, my nails scraped skin. Now it fel
forward over his ears and forehead and was the color of
wheat in a field, waiting to be cut. His eyes, moving over
my face, made me think he was waiting to be cut, too.
I almost couldn't do it. I mean, the night before I'd let him
put his tongue down my throat and his hands al over me.
When the warmth of him wafted over me, I wanted to
close my eyes at how familiar it was. How easy it would
have been to take him by the hand and lead him to my
bedroom.
I kept my eyes open, a lesson I'd been taught a long time
ago but had taken me a long time to learn. 'I don't miss
you, Austin. Last night was a mistake.'
'C'mon, Paige. Don't say that. We were always good
together.'
'We haven't been together for a long time,' I said, not
quite as evenly as I wanted.
'It's not just the sex.' Austin leaned forward, too, his
hands on the knees of his dirty denim jeans. A white spot
had worn through just below his kneecap, not quite a hole,
but on its way to becoming one. 'I didn't just mean that. I
but on its way to becoming one. 'I didn't just mean that. I
can get laid anytime I want.'
'I'm sure you can.' I got up, my arms folded across my
chest.
He got up, too. 'I didn't mean it that way.'
I wasn't going to bend. Not over the chair, not over the
bed, and not over this. 'It doesn't matter how you meant it.
I think you should go.'
