Joshua leaned in closer, sliding his arm along the back of my seat. Try it out with a guy you haven’t been with forever? I just kept agreeing to go out with him when he asked, telling myself I was being too picky. Leaning across the console, I toyed with the corner of his crisp collar. Unfortunately Joshua’s sloppy kisses and pasty palms hadn’t exactly turned me on. And now I was angry with myself for not trusting my instincts.
The last of the snow had melted a few weeks ago, and the grass hadn’t quite recovered yet.
I turned my gaze to stare out the windshield at the lawn of dead grass bordering my dorm.
Suddenly the pasta primavera I’d had for dinner felt like acid in my stomach.
He continued, “I’m just not ready for that kind of commitment yet.” I pulled back until the back of my head bumped the cold glass of the passenger window.
I pushed it to silent and returned to the hot awkwardness of the moment. “You’ve got marriage written all over your face.” My cheeks went hot.
“I’m sorry, Georgia,” he uttered, making a tsking sound with his tongue. After dinner tonight, he’d invited me back to his apartment. “I’m not looking for a replacement.” “You should lighten up, Georgia.” He gave my shoulder an obnoxious squeeze. A cloud of expensive-smelling cologne engulfed me, stinging my nostrils. If I had slept with him, would he still be “breaking up” with me? “I mean, you think I want to marry you after four dates.” I shook my head. “I’m not up for being his replacement.” I fumbled for the door handle. Like he had to get closer to impart whatever he was about to say. “You have a high opinion of yourself.” “No more than you do.” I snorted. You told me yourself that you were with your last boyfriend since high school and you thought you were going to marry the guy.” He shook his head and gave me that pitying look again. Stop being so serious and have some fun.” I flung open the door and swung my legs out onto the curb. I chafed my suddenly sweating palms against my jeans and told myself it wasn’t possible. .” I waited, staring at his handsome face and too white teeth, feeling an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. So why was he looking at me with that familiar pitying expression? This was how the conversation started when Harris broke up with me months ago.