Chapter 16 #2
I walk a short distance through the trees before turning in the direction Fiona headed, deliberately making noise as I walk. As jumpy as she is, she wouldn’t appreciate thinking I snuck up on her in the dark.
The long zip of a tent flap comes from slightly ahead and to the right. My pulse is pounding in my neck as the nerves kick in. Don’t be stupid this time. Don’t fuck this up again. I make my way in that direction, softly calling out, “Fiona?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute. You can go back,” she answers from the darkness. The light from the campfire is merely a suggestion of color on the trees behind me at this point.
“It’s me. It’s Tre. I’m, uh, not asking you to go back. I wanted to talk to you in private, actually.”
“Oh, now you want to talk, but you didn’t bother to tell me an ATF agent was in town? At Betty’s!”
“When would I have told you? The only way we can communicate is through notes, and you didn’t come in for coffee all week.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
“I would’ve told you if I could, but I didn’t know how. But that’s not what I want to talk about.”
“I thought I made it clear already. We can’t be together. We can’t be seen together, I mean.” Her voice sounds closer now.
“Well, nobody is seeing us here. And everyone is hanging out tonight, so even if any of them notice, it won’t matter.”
“Look around, Tre. Does it seem like I want to talk right now?” Fiona snaps.
“Yeah, I get that. How about I talk and you just be there? And, so you know, you hadn’t made anything clear about why you’ve had a problem with me.
” I hasten to add, “But I did find out from Ewan, and I get it. I wanted to talk to you ever since, but there was never an opportunity. I had hoped to apologize last weekend, after… But we were in such a rush that I couldn’t, and it came out all wrong, and I’m sorry. ”
I pause, expecting her to yell at me, but the woods are silent. If my eyes hadn’t adjusted to the dappled starlight filtering through the trees enough to let me make out her silhouette a few feet away, I’d be afraid she’d left.
“Fiona, I’m sorry for the awful things I said after your mom died. It was mean and cruel, and I was an idiot.”
“Oh, well it’s all better now.”
“I realize ‘sorry’ doesn’t actually fix anything, especially after it’s hurt for this long. I wish apologizing wouldn’t open an old wound, but until Ewan explained, I had no idea. I completely forgot I ever said anything, much less something so terrible. I guess that probably makes it worse…”
“You really have a high opinion of yourself if you think I’ve thought about you at all before six months ago.”
I expected she’d lash out, so I ignore the jab and continue.
“I’ve spent the last decade trying to be the opposite of that asshole and to not be like my family, which is where I think I got that from in the first place.
Actually, it doesn’t matter where I heard it.
I never should have repeated it, and I definitely don’t think it’s true.
I’m certain it’s not true, I mean. Shit.
Look, I’m not dumb enough to believe we can take back the words we’ve said. There’s no starting over.”
“If we could go back, your stupid words wouldn’t be anywhere close to what I’d change,” Fiona says softly, voice full of emotion.
“I get why you’re always mad at me. If I were you, I’d still hate me too. I’m not asking you to forgive me. I just need you to know that I’m sorry for being so cruel and stupid. I wish I had never said it. I understand if you can’t be my friend, and I’ll leave it alone from now on.”
I don’t know what else to say, so I fall silent. After a few moments, a stick cracks under her feet as she steps closer.
“What did Ewan say after he told you what we heard? Since you two are such annoyingly close friends.”
“Well, I was shocked at first, and I apologized. But he said he knew I wasn’t like that anymore, and that’s why he was trying to get you and me to be friends. I didn’t think of it in the moment, but since then I’ve kinda been disappointed in Ewan.”
“You’re disappointed he forgave you?” She’s close enough now that I can see the shock on her face matches the incredulous tone of her voice.
“Not that he forgave me last month. I’m disappointed he let me off the hook before I ever apologized. I’d sure as hell hold a grudge in his place. I still hold grudges against my family.”
Fiona scoffs. “Yeah, I told him pretty much the same thing.”
I pause long enough to be sure she’s done, then I grin. “So, you talk to your brother about me?”
“Oh my god. You’re such an ass.”
I don’t hear the same angry edge to her voice now. That might even have been amusement. “You’ve always said I was a Dick,” I tease. I can’t make out her gorgeous eyes in the darkness, but I’m certain she just rolled them.
More seriously, I ask, “Do you think we might be able to become friends?” I reach for her right hand with my left, clasping my fingers around hers.
Amazingly, she steps slightly closer. Progress.
“We’ve worked well together, we obviously have some shared interests, and it felt like we even had a connection once. ”
I take a small step. There are only a few inches separating us when I lean forward, and my mind is swirling. Half of me is dying to kiss her again the way I’ve imagined so many times, half of me is worried about driving her further away, and half of me is waiting to get slapped in the face.
Our lips touch, and I’m not sure who closed the final gap between us.
Conscious thought falls away. Heat rises in my face, and then in my dick.
Fiona kisses me back, and I run hot all over.
I drop her hand and slide mine across her back.
The other is already in her hair. I want to hold her so tightly that this kiss can’t end.
The pressure in my dick is so strong that it flexes rhythmically, trapped in my pants.
She presses her hips against mine, making me groan against her mouth.
I start to raise her shirt, but suddenly she presses a hand to my chest, breaking the kiss and stepping back. The abrupt end leaves me breathing heavily, and the aching throb of tension with no release is back between my legs.
“I don’t know what to feel about you, Tre. But I do know we’re not doing this. And I’m not doing anything with you out here.”
I growl in frustration, but I’m unwilling to jeopardize whatever happened here by pushing for more. “Alright. Well, I meant what I said. I’m so sorry. If you want to talk, my tent is the red one at the end. If not, hopefully I’ll see you at breakfast. Everybody knows I make some mean eggs.”
I turn to leave, but she says, “You cook for other people every day, and you’re still cooking for everyone on vacation? Why?”
I simply shrug. “We all do what we can.”