“I already answered that question. Yes.” He didn’t even look at me.
A doorman ushered us down the stairs into a dark, cozy underground space. Intimate booths lined the walls, black linens topped the tables, and candles gave the room a soft warm glow. We were seated at a table at the edge of the dance floor, and I hoped maybe Miles would ask me to dance at some point in the evening, just for fun, but he never did. In fact, the night was just one disappointment after another where he was concerned. The setting was romantic and elegant, the food and wine delicious, the jazz standards played by a trio next to the small dance floor enchanting—it should have been the perfect date, and it would have been, except that Miles was kind of an asshole all night.
Never mind the limited conversation and eye contact. Once he got a drink in him, he made several comments about our waitress’s awesome rack, he took two phone calls from his editor, he texted at the table, and he flirted openly with the female bartender when we moved to the bar after our meal. He even gave her his number! Right in front of me! By the time we paid the bar tab, I was fuming. I’d known he was a flirt and player, but he’d never been so disrespectful to me. It wasn’t like him at all.
Clearly the magic was gone.
My throat constricted, and I swallowed hard. Is this it, then? This is how he pulls away?
It pissed me off, actually. I got that I wasn’t his girlfriend, but I wasn’t just another one of his blog bunnies or whatever. Or wait…was I? After all, there was a post about me now. Good old Cinnamon Buns. I chewed my bottom lip.
Still, he shouldn’t treat me this way. And if he thought I was going to jump into bed with him when we got back to his apartment, he had another thing coming.
The ride home was uncomfortably silent, as was the elevator ride up to his floor. I could have laughed aloud thinking about how different our earlier return to his apartment had been—we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. What the hell had happened since? I racked my brain trying to come up with what I must have said or done to scare him off, but I couldn’t think of anything.
It’s nothing. This is the way he is. He’s the kind of guy who just wants sex and once he gets it, he’s done. Even with you. Why are you surprised about this? You’ve known this about him for years!
You never should have slept with him.
Angry at myself and him, I stomped down the hallway and waited stiffly for him to unlock the door. When he opened it, I stormed through the apartment and went right upstairs to pack my stuff. I wanted to be ready to go first thing in the morning. Biting back sobs, I folded up clothes, wound the cord around my hair dryer, and tossed everything in haphazardly. Once everything was packed, I took off my heels and dress, but realized I hadn’t brought anything to sleep in.
Of course, Miles chose that moment to come upstairs, and he found me standing there over my suitcase in my underwear, arms folded across my chest. “Hey,” he said grimly.
“Do you have a shirt I could sleep in, please?” I asked, careful to keep my tone and expression impassive.
“Sure.” Moving slowly, he went into his closet and came out with a folded gray t-shirt.
“Thanks.” I grabbed it from him, turned away, and threw it on.
He sank down onto the bed and sighed. “Natalie, I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” Avoiding his eyes, I pulled the pins out of my hair and dropped them into my makeup bag.
“For being an asshole tonight. I’ve been downstairs hating myself ever since we got back.”
“Whatever. No big deal.” I breezed by him and went into the bathroom, where I pulled a clean washcloth from a bathroom drawer, wet it with warm water, and started scrubbing off my makeup. I had no intention of letting him see how much he’d hurt me.
He came and stood in the bathroom doorway. “It is a big deal. You’re angry.”
“I was, earlier. But now I realize that was stupid. You were just being you. You don’t owe me anything.”
He flinched. “Yes, I do. An explanation, at least.”
I shrugged and rinsed out the cloth, hanging it on a towel bar.
“Hey. Look at me.” He took me by the shoulders and forced me to face him. “I need to tell you something.”
“OK.” I hoped my expression read Cool and Detached, but my stomach was churning.
“I’ve been a dick all night, and I can’t keep it up.” He cocked his head. “But that will be the only time I ever say something like that. I can always keep it up.”
I remained stone-faced.
“Wow. You’re really mad. OK.” He cleared his throat. “Here’s the thing. I’m…”