17. Knox
17
KNOX
T his underlying tension between Selene and I has been simmering for a while, but it has now hit an all-time high. Not that I didn’t expect this when I asked her to come out with me this evening in order to ‘clear the air’.
“That's why I wanted to talk,” I say, leaning forward. “To make things right.”
Selene's eyes drift back to the menu, but I know it’s because she doesn’t want to look at me. “And once again, I appreciate it but?—”
“But you're scared it'll happen again,” I interject, trying to soften my tone. “That I'll freak out and hurt you. Selene, I get it. I really do.”
She sighs, closing the menu and setting it aside. “It's not just that I'm scared, Knox,” she says. “It's that I don't know if I can go through it again. The whiplash was... hard. I know we were casual, but for that to happen was insane.”
Silence follows her statement. I can almost see her calculating an escape route, weighing the cost of staying versus the cost of running now while she still has the chance. This is uncharted territory for me because, usually, I'm the one bailing before things get too real. The irony isn't lost on me.
“I was an idiot,” I say, breaking the silence that had started to stretch uncomfortably long. “A complete and utter idiot. You have every right to be pissed.”
“Pissed?” She snorts, a bitter twist of a smile playing at her lips. “Knox, this isn't about being angry. If I were just pissed, it would be so much simpler.”
“Then what is it?” I ask, though I already know. Or at least, I think I do, but I’m not ready to voice my opinion. This is her time, her opportunity to tell me everything she’s been feeling.
She doesn't answer right away, and during that time, we’re served our glasses of water and her sangria. Instead, she takes a sip of water and studies our surroundings before her eyes land back on me.
“I was hurt. Part of it was your words, but…the other part of it is how I view myself.”
I expected her to say something along the lines of how much I hurt her, but I wasn’t expecting the rest of that sentence. “How you view yourself?”
“Yeah,” she says, swirling her sangria, watching the fruit spin in a lazy orbit. “Knox, I’ve heard about your type. They're... different from me.”
I let the weight of her words sink in. I never thought Selene was the type to care about labels or what other people said. She always seemed so sure of herself, so confident. But now, seeing this vulnerable side of her, I realize just how deep my actions have cut.
“Selene,” I start, but she holds up a hand to stop me.
“I'm not saying that to fish for compliments or reassurance,” she says firmly. “I just need you to understand where I'm coming from. When you pulled away like that, it wasn't just confusing. It made me question everything. Why did you entertain these conversations with me? Or why did you want to have sex with me in the first place, if I was just some kind of... experiment for you?”
“An experiment?” The word tastes like bile in my mouth. “You think that little of me?”
“I don't know what to think,” she admits. “That's the problem.”
I run a hand through my hair, frustrated, but more at myself than at her. This whole thing is a mess, and it’s a mess I created. How do I even begin to untangle it?
“We had something good,” I say slowly, choosing each word carefully. “Something easy and fun between our text messages and conversations at parties. When it started to shift into something more, I panicked because I didn't expect it. Because I didn't expect things to feel so…intense.”
She raises an eyebrow, skepticism clear on her face. “Feel so intense? Knox, you were the one who said you don't do feelings.”
“I don’t,” I say quickly, then catch myself. “I mean, I didn't think I did. Fuck.”
I pause, taking a deep breath. This is harder than I thought it would be, and every second that ticks by feels like a countdown to an explosion I can't defuse.
“Look, I'm not good at this,” I confess. “At talking about what's going on in my head. But I'm trying, Selene. I'm really trying.”
She takes another sip of her sangria, her eyes never leaving mine. She's waiting for something, and I hope like hell I have whatever it is she needs to hear.
“When we started talking and hanging out, I liked you. A lot more than I planned to,” I continue. “But liking someone isn't the same as being with them. I thought I could keep it casual, keep it cool, but then, when we had sex... everything just rushed in all at once.”
“Rushed in?” she echoes, her tone softer but still guarded.
“Yeah,” I say, as I run a hand over my face. “The way you laughed at my stupid jokes, the way you looked at me when you thought I wasn't paying attention. The way you kissed me. It was all so much more than I bargained for.”
She sets her glass down gently, and for a moment I think she might reach across the table, but her hands rest in her lap instead.
“So you freaked out because you started to care,” she says, more as a statement than a question.
I nod slowly. “Yeah. And because caring means risking something. Means putting myself out there in a way I'm not used to. And the last time I did that, I got hurt.”
“By Tessa.”
I’m taken aback by her matter-of-fact statement. “How do you know about her?”
This time Selene rolls her eyes. “Long story short, she warned me about sleeping with you because she wants to get back together.”
Tessa wants to get back together? And she's been talking to Selene?
“She what? That’s probably why she was texting me a few weeks ago…” My voice trails off.
Selene waves me off. “I don’t want to know about your conversation.”
“There wasn’t one. I didn’t reply to her because I’m not interested.”
“Fascinating,” she says as she turns to look at the woman who was standing behind the bar who has now brought over a selection of cheeses, fruits, and crackers.
“Is there anything else I can get for you?”
I wonder if she can sense the tension between Selene and me. Selene looks at me, then at the bartender. “Can we have one more minute?” she asks, and the woman nods, walking away with a curious glance over her shoulder.
We sit in a silent standoff, each of us deciding what we want to eat. Once we place our orders, Selene folds her hands on the table, and the way she’s looking at me, I swear she’s staring through my soul.
“So,” she says slowly, “you didn’t reply to her because you’re not interested. But if you had replied, what would you have said?”
I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms. “I would've told her exactly that. That I'm not interested, that it's over and has been over for years now.”
She studies me, her eyes narrowing as if she's trying to read the fine print of a contract. “You could've just blocked her number.”
“Maybe I should have,” I admit. “But I didn't because... I don't know. Maybe because some part of me wanted closure? Or maybe because I'm an idiot who likes to keep his options open, even when he knows he's not going to take them.”
Her expression shifts subtly, a flicker of something I can't quite place. “At least you're honest about being an idiot.”
“I’m trying to be honest about everything.”
For a moment, it seems like we might have reached an understanding, but that only lasts long enough for Selene to finish the cheese and fruit she was eating. But just as quickly, that thought flees my mind when she tilts her head.
“So what does all of this mean? Are you ‘trying to come clean’ because you want me to be some option you're keeping open?”
“Selene, it’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like?” she demands. “Because from where I'm sitting, it looks a lot like you’re playing the same game with me that you did with Tessa. Keeping me in some kind of holding pattern until you figure your shit out.”
“I’m not playing a game,” I say, more forcefully than I intend. “I’m just trying to be real with you.”
“Real?” She lets out a bitter laugh. “The reality is, Knox, I don’t think you even know what you want.”
She’s right, of course. That’s the shitty part. I thought I had everything figured out: my life, my friends, the girls I hooked up with. It was all simple and straightforward. Predictable. Now, with Selene, everything is murky and complicated, and I’m floundering.
I unclench my fists and take another deep breath. “You’re right,” I say, the words heavy on my tongue. “I don’t know what I want. But I do know that I want to figure it out. That I want to figure us out.”
She crosses her arms as she regards me. “But there isn’t an us . Why should I wait around while you ‘figure it out’? Why not just cut your losses and leave me alone?”
“Because I think we could have something real,” I say. “Something more than just easy and fun. Something worth the risk.”
Selene’s eyes soften, but only for a fraction of a second. She's built a wall around herself, one that I'm all too familiar with because it's the same kind of wall I've spent years hiding behind.
“I liked you, Knox,” she says, and the past tense stings more than I want to admit. “I liked you a lot and respected the fact that you wanted to keep things casual. But you hurt me. You can't just come in here and expect to say a few nice things and make it all better.”
“I don’t expect that,” I say quickly. “I know it’s not that simple. I just… I just want a chance to show you that I know what I did was wrong, and hopefully you’ll give me another chance.”
“I don't know, Knox,” she says. “A chance is asking a lot.”
“I know. But it's all I'm asking for. Just a chance.”
She closes her eyes and sighs. “Fine, but I’m not giving you a chance in the way you think I am.”
“I'm listening,” I say cautiously.
Selene crosses her arms but keeps her hands on the table. “You said you want to figure us out. That you think we could have something real. If that's true, then you need to understand who I am and what I want.”
“I’m willing to?—”
“Knox,” she interrupts, “this isn’t about you just sitting here and nodding along. This is about you actually getting it.”
“Okay. Please continue.”
“Here’s the thing,” she continues. “I’m not looking for some grand love affair that's going to sweep me off my feet and change my life overnight. I’m not even looking for a relationship right now. What I want is stability. Consistency. Something that I can count on, whether it's with a friend or?—”
“A lover,” I finish for her.
She nods. “Yeah. Someone who isn't going to freak out and disappear when things get too real or too complicated.”
“I can be that person,” I say without a second thought.
“You say that now,” Selene replies, her voice tinged with skepticism. “But can you really? Can you be steady and constant when everything about you screams volatility?”
I pause, considering her words. The bad boy persona I've cultivated over the years has become a second skin, but underneath it, I'm just as uncertain and vulnerable as anyone else. Maybe more so.
“I can try,” I say finally. “And if trying isn't enough, then I'll keep trying until it is.”
“Fine. Let’s see how this goes.”
It feels like I won the battle, but the war is far from over. Our meals arrive along with the receipt, and for a moment, the tension is gone. Selene picks at her salad, and I cut into my steak with more force than necessary, but things feel peaceful. Hopefully, this is the start of something better between the two of us.
“How's your food?” I ask.
“It's great,” she says, then takes a sip of water. “Yours?”
“Great. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until the food arrived.”
Silence takes over again until I can’t take it anymore. “I miss when you used to send me those random recipes,” I say suddenly, unable to stand the quiet any longer.
Selene looks up from her salad. “You miss them?”
“Yeah,” I say, shrugging. “I never actually tried cooking any of them, but it was nice to see what you were into.”
“I thought you deleted them.”
“I archived them,” I admit. “Figured I might need some culinary inspiration someday.”
She smirks, but it's not the playful kind I'm used to. “Cooking is like therapy for me. It's consistent. Predictable. You follow a recipe, and if you do everything right, you get the result you were aiming for. Too bad it’s harder to cook on campus.”
“I’m sure the guys wouldn’t mind if you used our kitchen. Let’s be honest, none of us are Michelin star chefs.”
“I'm not sure your teammates would be thrilled with me hanging around.”
“Selene, come on. You’re always welcome.” When she doesn’t respond, I continue talking to fill the silence. “So…would you say, I’m unpredictable?” I ask, smirking slightly as I cut another piece of steak.
Selene tilts her head. “I mean, yeah. You’re...complicated.”
“Complicated, huh?” I lean back in my chair. “Maybe I’m just full of surprises. Like...did you know I’m a biology major?”
Her eyebrows lift slightly. “Wait—you? Seriously?”
“What? Jocks can’t be into science?” I ask with a smirk.
She laughs softly, the tension between us easing by degrees. “I just didn’t expect that. What made you pick biology?”
I pause for a second, unsure if I want to dive into this part of myself. But something about Selene makes me want to let her in.
“My mom’s a biologist by trade and became a stay at home mom when she had me. She moved here from Mexico for college, met my dad, and…well, here I am,” I say with a shrug. “He took her last name, actually. Thought it was important that we carried on her family name.”
Selene’s eyes soften. “That’s...really sweet.”
“Yeah. Growing up, science was always there. Plus, it was one of the few constants I had since we moved around so much. Well, that and hockey.”
Her brows furrow slightly. “Moved around?”
“Yeah. My dad was in the military. Every couple of years, it was a new base, a new city. New school, new friends... or trying to make them, anyway.” I let out a low chuckle, though it doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “Guess I got used to not staying in one place for too long.”
Her expression shifts into something softer, more thoughtful. “I didn’t know that.”
“Didn’t exactly put it on my profile on Crestwood’s website,” I say with a shrug.
She offers a small smile. “So…this whole hockey thing. Is it about finally putting down roots somewhere?”
I blink, surprised at how easily she cuts through to the truth. “Maybe. Hockey’s the first thing that ever made me feel grounded. Biology’s the backup plan... but hockey? That’s the dream.”
“And if the dream comes true?” she asks, tilting her head slightly.
“Then I get to have my cake and eat it too,” I say with a grin. “Or, you know...cake and pumpkin pie. Perks of having a November birthday.”
Selene blinks. “Wait—your birthday’s in November?”
“Yeah, a few days before Thanksgiving,” I reply as I watch her reaction carefully.
She taps her fingers lightly against her glass as she processes what I said. “That’s right around the corner.”
“Yup. Cake, pie, and food comas. The holy trinity of November birthdays.”
Selene’s smile turns mischievous. “So, should I start brainstorming gift ideas now, or are you one of those ‘no presents, just vibes’ people?”
I chuckle. “Let’s just say I’m open to surprises.”
“Good to know,” she says, her gaze lingering on mine for a moment too long. She polishes off her sangria and then says, “I’m done eating and ready to go check out some books when you’re ready.”
I look at my plate that’s completely empty and then at Selene. She’s already standing, brushing invisible crumbs from her sweater. I grab the receipt and walk up to the front before she can protest. After I’m done paying for our meal, we make our way to the bookstore section of the restaurant.
Selene's eyes light up as we enter the cozy space filled with towering bookshelves. She runs a finger along the spines of various titles, her earlier tension seeming to melt away. This is her element and I’m glad to be sharing this with her.
She picks up a book and flips through the pages, then sets it back down with a sigh. “It's dangerous for me to come here, especially after having a drink. I already have a stack of unread books at home.”
“Get whatever you want. It's on me.”
She glances back at me, skeptical. “Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?”
“I'm always nice,” I say, feigning hurt.
“Right,” she says, rolling her eyes but with a hint of a smile. “Nice is the first word that comes to mind when I think of you.”
She has a point. “I'm trying to turn over a new leaf,” I say. “You know, be more consistent and predictable.”
Selene raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment. Instead, she picks up another book, examines the cover, and puts it back. I can see her mind turning, calculating whether she should let me buy her anything or tell me to shove it.
She finally speaks. “You know, buying me things isn't going to make me forgive you faster.”
“I know,” I say. “But it can't hurt, right?”
She laughs, a genuine sound that momentarily warms the cold front between us. “Fine. If you're so insistent, I'll take you up on it. But remember, this doesn't mean anything.”
“Noted,” I say, feeling a small victory.
Selene takes her time browsing, moving from one shelf to another. I grab a basket and trail behind her, not wanting to intrude but also not wanting to be left out. She grabs a few titles, considers them, then puts them back. This cycle repeats several times until she has a small stack cradled in her arms.
“I’ll take them. Put them in here.”
She looks over at me as if she’s just now noticing me for the first time. “When did you grab a basket?”
“A while ago. I didn’t know how many books you were thinking of getting.”
“Ah, okay,” she says as she delicately places the stack of books into the basket. “These are just maybes. I haven't committed yet.”
I glance down at the covers: a mix of fantasy, romance, and a cookbook. “Interesting selection.”
“I'm a woman of varied tastes,” she says, then pauses. “You know, you could pick out a book for yourself.”
I shrug noncommittally. “I don't have much time to read these days. Practice, classes, and other stuff keep me pretty busy.”
“Other stuff,” she echoes, and I can hear the unspoken accusations in those two words.
“Yeah,” I say, not rising to the bait. “But maybe I'll make time. What do you suggest? Or how about we both buy the same book, and we can read it together and talk about it or something?”
“You’re serious?”
“Yeah.”
Selene tilts her head, studying me like I'm an alien who just landed in her bookstore. “You mean like a book club for two?”
“Sure,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Why not? It could be fun.”
She gives me a big smile and says, “Okay. Let me find something we’ll both enjoy.”
And that’s when I knew I would do anything to get her to give me that smile for as long as she’d have me.