16. Cell Reproduction Mitosis #2
“Yes. But here’s another one. I suffer from making the fundamental attribution error all the time .
You know, that thing people do where their own mistakes can be explained away by circumstances outside of their control, but then they unilaterally decide other people’s mistakes are obviously due to faulty character traits?
I do that. I actually really hate this about myself and I’ve gotten so much better about recognizing it as I’ve aged.
” I looked up at the ceiling, thinking the matter over.
“So, let’s call that a half-unlikable thing. ”
Andreas made a short sound, pulling my attention back to him.
His hand fell away from his mouth. “Samantha, why are you telling me all this?”
“Because I want you to tell me something unlikable about yourself, so I figured I would share first.”
“Why? Why do you want to know something unlikable about me?”
I stared at Andreas, hoping he’d simply play along without making me explain myself. I stared for so long, I was forced to blink several times. And still he returned my stare, seemingly content to wait me out.
Well, this flex of superhuman patience is certainly unlikable.
Eventually, I glanced away, my eyes moving over the interior of his apartment while my attention shifted inward.
No more stalling. I was going to have to tell him about my unwelcome feelings, about this attraction I didn’t want and for which I needed his help dispelling.
There was no getting around saying it now.
“So, here’s the thing.” I crossed my arms again, determined to approach this subject as analytically and dispassionately as possible. I could not, however, immediately lift my eyes higher than the tabletop. “As it turns out, and quite against my will, I find myself in a precarious situation.”
Hazarding a glance, I noted how his gaze had grown narrowed and powerfully intent. I didn’t miss how Andreas leaned forward. Nor did I miss how wooden and useless my tongue felt, and how dry my mouth was, and how courage was beginning to taste like cowardice.
And yet, despite the sudden sweatiness of my palms, I forced myself to continue, because I was an adult.
“And I fully admit, I am to blame, obviously. Feelings aren’t facts, but they exist, nevertheless”—I swallowed convulsively, telling myself to slow down even as words cascaded out of me like a waterfall—“and despite my attempts to neutralize this—this issue, sometimes emotions exist outside of the Venn diagram of intentions and willful choices. And so, what I want to make you aware of before things take an unintentional turn for?—”
The sound of the front door chime cut off my rapid monologue and I flinched, my eyes darting toward the entryway. Despite my best efforts, my heart had taken off at a gallop and I suddenly became aware that my stomach was swimming. Ugh. I feel like I’m going to throw up.
“The food.” Andreas sounded mildly irritated by the interruption. He pushed away from the table and straightened slowly. “I will be right back. Do not leave.”
I nodded automatically. But then, as soon as he disappeared from view, I asked myself via a whisper spoken out loud, “What the hell am I doing?”
Was I really going to confess like this? I’d never confessed having feelings to anyone because I’d never caught feelings before that were worth confessing. Who the hell did I think I was?
Placing my palm over my now thundering heart and staring forward, my brain began to bargain and advocate for an alternate course of action. Because this was freaking scary.
It felt like ...
It feels like ...
Like what I imagined a wild animal felt when their paw was stuck in the jaws of a steel trap.
Was I really going to wait for the hunter to return and explain with reason and logic how I didn’t want my paw to be stuck in a steel trap, and would he please release me so that I could go back to being free and wild?
NO!
No, absolutely not. An animal does not try to reason with a hunter. Worst-case scenario, the hunter felt sorry for the animal and shot it on sight. Whereas, best-case scenario ...
Wait.
Who was I kidding? There was no best case! Was I insane?
I stood abruptly from the table, the chair making a muffled sound on the red carpet as it fell over behind me. Andreas reentered the room, two tied plastic bags dangling from his fingertips, and froze mid-stride when he spotted me and the toppled chair.
A pause, then, “Are you okay?”
I nodded, sucking in oxygen as I turned and forced my fingers and arms to right the chair. “Mm-hmm. I’m fine. I’m good.”
Haltingly, he asked, “Do you want to eat now? Or we can wait.”
I closed one eye, scrunching my face. “Um, you know—” I stopped myself and cleared my throat because the two words had arrived extremely high-pitched. Remodulating my voice, I tried again. “I’m not hungry. But you should eat.”
My mind thrashed around in my own stupidity, struggling to find a viable point to make, one that could take the place of my scary confession.
“Are you sure?” Andreas closed the distance to the table and set the bags on its surface. “I ordered quite a lot.”
“I’m sure.” I nodded tightly, my brain finally latching on to an alternate argument in place of my inadvisable admission of feelings. “I can talk while you eat.”
His eyes moved over me, his expression quizzical. But all he said was, “Okay,” as he reclaimed his seat.
I did not sit. I had too much adrenaline coursing through my system.
Instead, I folded my arms over my chest like armor and lifted my chin.
“All I was saying was that I don’t think it’s right for me to take the main bedroom.
This is your apartment and that room is too big for me and I don’t think it makes any sense for me to take the main bedroom when this is your apartment, after all.
I’d like to move my stuff into one of the other rooms and sleep there.
Tonight. If that’s okay. That’ll save us from having to change sheets in the morning. ”
Andreas had begun untying the knot in one of the bags as he sat. But by the time I’d finished speaking, his hands were still and his eyes were affixed forward. Silence engulfed us, making me feel like I’d been swallowed by a sea creature that excreted awkwardness as a pheromone.
I watched his chest rise and fall, listening to the slightly stunted yet audible sound of his exhale. He seemed to be parsing through my words again, evaluating them, maybe searching for hidden meanings. Who knows?
I’d tricked myself two nights ago, believing I knew what he’d been thinking, and now I was paying the price with pride as my currency. Like hell would I assume I knew what he was thinking ever again.
At length, Andreas abandoned the bag and stood, slowly lifting his eyes to mine. “This is what you wanted to talk about?” His voice was oddly gruff.
I nodded.
His jaw seemed to work, giving me the impression he was running the tip of his tongue over his back teeth. His chest rose and fell again, another audible sigh. “Pick any room you like,” he said, the words low and rumbly.
“Oh. Thank you.” I kept on nodding. “I will.”
Refocusing his attention on the food, he frowned. But instead of untying the knot, he picked up the two bags and strolled away toward the kitchen. As soon as he disappeared from view, I slouched, allowing myself a quick moment of relief and reprieve.
A breathy laugh tumbled out of me. Yikes . That had been close. Thank goodness I’d stopped myself.
Fascinatingly, the sudden sensation of relief was enough to buoy my spirits anew, because I was nothing if not a problem solver.
I didn’t need Andreas to help me fix my attraction.
I could do it myself. I’d relied on no one but myself for a long, long, long time.
I loved Kaitlyn, but I didn’t actually need her.
Yeah. That’s right. I’ll do it myself.
I would figure this out and mercilessly cauterize it before I allowed anything as frivolous as attraction to interfere. I didn’t need Andreas to expose his unlikable traits, fixing myself wasn’t his responsibility. I simply needed to focus on what really mattered.
Revenge .
For my dad, for my mom, for myself. Everything else should be background noise.
Determined, I strolled to the main bedroom with my head high and grabbed my suitcase.
It contained all my clothes and toiletries, everything I needed for tonight and tomorrow.
The rest I could grab at some point later, or leave in the bins.
No use unpacking more than necessary, no reason to settle in.
I would pick a different room and leave Andreas to his palatial suite. It didn’t matter where I slept as long as I didn’t let myself get too comfortable.
This, him, his apartment, it was all temporary.
Yes, best for both of us if I reminded myself of this fact rather than burden Andreas with my irrelevant feelings.