Um, yeah. That’s just a cough that’s catching in my throat. It’s not emotion, I swear.
Gesturing for me to sit down, he takes some plastic food containers out of the bag and a small chill box containing a bottle of wine. Hmm, is he planning on getting me drunk? The food is an array of sandwiches, chips, and dips. The perfect picnic combination.
“This is nice,” I say, giving him a curious smile. “You planned all this yourself?”
When he looks at me, it’s not what I’m expecting. He seems guilty for some reason, and almost…sad. It’s a swift turnaround, and it takes me by surprise. Reaching to his neck and scratching, he replies, “Yeah, I wanted to do something for you, something you’d like.” He hands me a paper plate with some sandwiches. “Here, eat up.”
“Thanks,” I reply, still eyeing him. There’s something off about him all of a sudden, but I can’t put my finger on it.
Once it gets completely dark, the movie starts up, and Jay pulls me to sit between his legs, my back resting on his chest. The nearness makes me remember yesterday, his mouth on me, how incredible it felt. He runs his fingertips up and down my arms, noticing my skin pimpling with the cold.
“It’s getting chilly. I brought another blanket,” he says, pulling one from the bag and covering us both with it. I sink into him, feeling his breath tickle the back of my neck. A little into the movie, he pours us some wine into the plastic cups he brought. I sip on mine, savouring the moment, watching one of my favourite movies with a man my feelings are latching onto.
When I’m finished drinking, he takes the cup from me and sets it aside, wrapping both his arms around my middle and holding me tight. The scene I’d described to him comes on, and I close my eyes, unable to handle the intensity of watching it while he’s holding me so close.
I want him tonight. I want him to make love to me right here under the stars. I don’t care how cold it is or how short a time I’ve known him.
Toward the end of the film, I turn my face to his, and his lips are right there. Bravely, I lean in to kiss him, but he moves away, and I can’t tell if he does it to avoid my kiss or if it was an accident. He moves his nose to my temple, nuzzling. I accept the touch, even though it feels like a consolation prize.
The film ends, and a long sigh escapes him. We stay in our spot even while the people around us are packing up to leave.
“This is the difficult part,” says Jay in a low voice.
I turn in his arms to face him properly. “The difficult part?”
“Yeah,” he says, his mouth a bare inch from mine, his eyes full of emotion. “The part where I keep from touching you more. Touching you everywhere.”
I stare at him for a long time before replying in the tiniest voice, “You can touch me if you want to.”
His look is agonised, but I don’t understand why. “If I ask you to do something for me, will you do it and not ask questions? Just accept that this is how it has to be right now?”
Some kind of apprehension takes hold in my gut. “I’ll try.”
“I need you not to touch me, not to try to kiss me like you did during the movie. I know it’s hypocritical, given what’s been brewing between us lately, but it’s not in my power to explain yet. I need you to be my friend, Matilda, to spend time with me. But please don’t push for more, even if it feels like I want you so badly it hurts, even if I’m the one doing the pushing, because if you do, I might just have to be selfish and take you.” He pauses before finishing in a hushed voice, “and you’d destroy me.”
I’d destroy him? How ironic is it that it feels like he’s destroying me in this moment? “You don’t want me?”
He doesn’t answer immediately. Then he says, “You should be running in the other direction, darlin’.”
I study him, trying to figure him out. Finally, I realise what’s going on. He’s trying to let me down gently. He’s saying nice things but mixing them with bad things to make me feel less rejected, because, let’s face it, that’s what this is. A rejection.
Yesterday when we were together was a lapse of judgement on his part. He was satisfying a need, and that’s all. I allowed myself to get carried away, I guess. I gather my reserve, blinking back the tears that want to come out.
“So, you’re saying you just want to be friends?” The tears are in my throat now, too, and it’s impossible that he can’t hear them.
He takes my hand in his and squeezes it tight. “I want you to be my best friend.”
Steeling myself, I say, “Okay, I get it. You don’t have to lessen the blow.”
He squeezes my hand to the point of pain now. “I want you to be my best friend, darlin’. I’m not lessening the blow. That right there is the truth.”
I want to just stay quiet, but I can’t help it. The verbal diarrhoea comes spewing out. “Is there….” I stop and take a breath, biting back more tears. “Is there something wrong with me?”
“Jesus Christ, Watson, no. You’re perfect.” He pulls me into his arms and hugs me so hard it steals the air from my lungs.
I’m not perfect. He’s lying. If I were perfect, then this conversation wouldn’t even be happening. I hate how much I love the feel of his body wrapped around mine, and then comes the anger. Abruptly, I push away from him and get to my feet.
“Who brings a girl to see a movie like that and then tells her he doesn’t want to be with her? That was really shitty of you, Jay.”
“Can’t,” he says, standing up, too, and walking toward me. He stops when his chest brushes mine, completely invading my personal space.
“What?” I ask, my voice snappy.
“Can’t, not doesn’t.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“I will one day.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, can you just be straight with me for once? On second thought, forget it. I’m going home.”
At this I turn and stomp away from him, but he catches up to me, stopping me in my tracks when he forcefully grabs my elbow. “You’re not going home alone at this time of night,” he growls in my ear.
“Watch me.” I yank my elbow out of his hold and make a run for it. In this moment I’m so consumed by feelings of embarrassment and hurt, and I just don’t want to look at him. I don’t want to look at a person I want this badly but who doesn’t want me back.
A minute later I’m airborne as he catches me and grabs me around my middle, lifting me up and throwing me over his shoulder.
“Jay! Let me down!” I squeal, wiggling in his hold. He doesn’t put me down until he reaches his car and sets me in the back. I’m about to crawl out when he slams the door shut and locks it. I try the handle, but it won’t budge.
“It’s for your own safety,” I hear him say through the glass as he goes back inside the park.
Oh, my God, I couldn’t be any more pissed off right now. He just locked me inside his car. My anger trickles away after a minute, though, being replaced again by hurt feelings. I feel hideous. It’s the worst time for me to dwell on the fact that Owen still hasn’t called, which is the cherry on top of Jay’s rejection cake. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me that men just don’t seem to want me?
Maybe I’m just too boring? Okay, self-pity, I’m going to say good night.
Soon Jay returns, sliding into the driver’s seat and throwing the packed-up duffel bag in the back. He doesn’t say a word.
I hate him not talking to me even more than I hate him not wanting me.
Liquid leaks from my eyes, unable to hold back anymore. I dab at the tears with my sleeve and try not to sniffle, not wanting Jay to know I’m crying. In the end it doesn’t matter, because he looks at me through the overhead mirror and lets out a gruff breath.
“Darlin’, don’t cry.”
Now I do sniffle. “Don’t call me darlin’. I’m not your darlin’. I’m your friend.” I put as much animosity into the word as I can muster.
A tiny smile shapes his lips, and I feel like smacking him for it. “Really? It doesn’t sound like you’re my friend. It sounds like you hate my guts.”