Adam pats me on the shoulder and walks back into the building, saying "sorry about that, mate" on the way past Chris. Then we're left, standing a few feet apart, looking at each other awkwardly.
He shoves his hands in his pockets, his face still impassive. His eyes are brighter though so I take this as a hopeful sign.
I don't know where to begin.
"It's okay," he says before I can say anything. "I heard the important parts."
I'm so drained from the last ten minutes of drama that my eyes well up with tears of relief. "I'm sorry," I manage to blurt out but he shakes his head.
"You don't need to apologise." He takes a few steps, closing the gap between us. "Yes, it looked bad but I get it. You didn't have any control over the situation. I'm the one who should be saying sorry here. And I am."
"Why?" I'm confused.
He bites his lip. "I jumped to a wrong conclusion, unfairly, rather than letting you explain." He laces a hand in mine tentatively. His face is open again, and serious. "I have trust issues anyway from my last relationship but I projected that onto you and it wasn't fair of me."
"You need to know though that Adam and I . . . We've never been a couple. We've barely even been a fling. It's not . . . It's nothing like how I already feel about you, Chris."
"I get it," he says softly. He bends down and kisses me. He smiles and I sag with relief.
"I know we only went on a date for the first time two days ago but this . . . It feels like it could go somewhere." I can't stop the honesty flooding out of my mouth, and I don't want to. I need him to know he's as important to me already as I seem to be to him.
He nods, pressing another kiss to my lips. "I know. I feel that way too."
He wraps his arms around me and I lean my head against his warm chest for a couple of beats of silence.
He says "So am I still invited on this Glen Coe trip or would you rather take someone else who doesn't jump instantly on the defensive and acts like a massive baby?"
"You didn't act like a massive baby," I grin back. "And yes, you're still invited."
"Thank goodness," he whispers, leaning back and and stroking a tear from my cheek. "Because I have a feeling it's going to be very memorable."
And from the way his gaze razes down me like he's mentally undressing me, I share this sentiment.
YOU ARE READING
Happy Hour (A Romantic Comedy)
Roman d'amour~~~~~ One thing that most definitely hasn't changed is the power of those bright hazel eyes to reduce me to a puddle of mush. And I can't help but think of the last time I was looking into them, right after he kissed me and walked away 15 years ago...
