Page 117 of Let's Kiss and Tell

There’s a look on Lucy’s face that I can’t quite read. It’s a look I haven’t seen before in our time together, but I hate it.

“Right,” she says. “Okay, well, have a good night.”

She awkwardly opens the door and gets out. I would get out and help with her bag in the trunk, but my fists are gripping the wheel so firmly I can’t. She pops the trunk open herself, and it’s not until I hear it closing that I snap back to reality. She’s walking toward the front door, not even looking back, and I’m just in shock. I’m in shock that this was so easy for her.

“You’re really leaving?” I call out through the open window.

Lucy stops in her tracks, turning around. “What?”

“You’re really leaving,” I say now like a statement. I open the car door and step out. It’s dark now and dead silent. There’s only the sound of traffic up the street, but I don’t care.

“Yeah…” she says, confused. “I live here?”

“Last night meant nothing to you?” I ask because I need her to say it to me. Not whatever self-righteous bullshit monologue she gave me this morning that left me speechless.

She closes her eyes. “Marsh…”

“I just”—I lift my glasses and pinch the bridge of my nose—“I’m not good at this, okay?”

“You’re not good at what?”

“This.” I point between us. “The idea offake datingis something I could barely wrap my head around. It’s been three weeks and I still don’t know how to do this,” I say, not hiding my frustration very well.

“And you think I do?” she says.

“Well, clearly.” I gesture. “You’re totally fine with just spending every day together, getting to know each other?” I say. “Talking about our hypothetical future, meeting my family, sharing stories we haven’t told anyone else before? Sleeping together andthen just acting like this is normal? Like all of this means literally nothing to you?”

“That’s the whole point, Marsh,” she says, now sounding as frustrated as I am. “We knew what we were signing up for when we did this, so ithasto mean nothing.”

“Why does ithaveto mean nothing?”

“Because it does!” She drops her bag on the ground. “Because if it starts to mean something then what the fuck are we even doing?”

“Well, call me old-fashioned or whatever label you want to slap on, but I can’t just sleep with someone and have it mean nothing.”

“Marsh, that’s theeasypart.” She looks at me like I’ve somehow disappointed her. “That’s the part that’s supposed to mean nothing for men.”

“Well, I guess I’m not like other men,” I say.

“Yeah, no shit,” she scoffs.

“What the hell does that mean, Lucy?” I make a face. “You’re mad that it meant something to me?”

“It means that you’re not like other men, Marshall,” she spits out. “And do you know how hard that is for me? Sometimes I wish I asked literally anyone else to do this instead of you, because it would be so much easier to pretend to date someone if they were an asshole to me, if they didn’t care.”

Lucy’s words feel like another swing to my gut. Like I’ve been a wet towel all day. Like she’s taken the most vulnerable part of me, pulled it out, and wrung it to dry. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I just be another guy? Why can’t I just take what happened last night and see it as a win and continue to do what we’re doing? Things would be so much easier for me if I didn’t care…but I do.

“I don’t think this is working,” I say.

Lucy looks at me, stunned. “Yeah…I guess not.”

It feels like that point in a conversation where it’s still okay to say,I’m sorry, I take it back,but maybe I have too much pride. Or maybe I just frankly can’t go through thisagain.

“I’m sorry—” I start.

“Don’t be,” Lucy says dismissively, lips pursed. “We had fun. I was able to get a few articles out and you were able to get the point across to Julia and your family.”

Julia and my family are the furthest thing from my mind.