Is it love?

Chapter XII - I'm sorry

This is going too fast. I can't let it happen. Not like this.

"What about starting over? I mean, we've already got a bit of history, haven't we?" I suggested, locking eyes with his dark, unreadable gaze.

For a moment, he just stared back at me, taken aback, before pulling away slightly and lighting another cigarette. The flick of the lighter seemed louder than it should, echoing between us. Had I stressed him out by saying that? I wasn't sure, but his movements were sharper now, tenser.

"Sure, whatever you want," he replied, exhaling smoke slowly. "Did I do something wrong, though?" His question hung in the air, his voice sounding almost too casual, as if he were more confused than hurt.

"No, God no," I said quickly, waving my hand like I could brush away the tension. "It's just... all of this is moving fast. I don't want to mess things up. I thought you'd understand that."

He crushed his cigarette into the ashtray, his lips tightening. "You don't think I get it? That's the problem?" His tone was low, like he was trying to keep it together.

I flinched at the harshness in his voice. It hadn't been like this a few moments ago. The easy flirting, the teasing—all of it had shifted so fast. He wasn't smiling anymore.

"I just don't want this to crash and burn before it even starts, Marcus. That's all I'm saying," I said, trying to sound as calm as possible, but my heart was racing, the words stumbling out too quickly.

He stared off into the distance, eyes clouded with something unreadable. "It was going great," he muttered, more to himself than me. "Why can't we keep going from right now? Why go back?"

His words pierced through me, tugging at the guilt already forming in my chest. What was I even trying to fix? Did I ruin it?

I glanced away, unable to face his intensity anymore. "I don't know. It just doesn't feel right."

"Is this about Liam?" His voice was sharp now, like he was ready to lash out. "Is that why your mind's spinning out? If it is, I swear..."

"No! Marcus, don't—don't bring Liam into this!" I snapped, cutting him off. "You wouldn't understand, so why even bother explaining it?" The frustration surged, and I couldn't control it. My hands were shaking as I grabbed my things, ready to walk away.

His eyes narrowed, and there it was—anger, clear as day. "I didn't—" he started, but I wasn't about to stick around for whatever excuse he was brewing. I shoved a crumpled bill into his chest.

"For the milkshake," I muttered coldly, before walking away, leaving him stunned in the middle of the café.

The second I was outside, I could feel the tightness in my chest unravel, but not in a good way. No, it felt worse. Like I'd torn something that couldn't be put back together. God, what did I just do?

As I stormed down the street, the tears came, hot and uncontrollable. You always ruin it, Karla. You had it in your hands, and now it's gone.

I tried to blink away the blur, but the frustration kept growing. Everything had been fine, and now... What had I expected, walking out like that?

The sound of footsteps behind me made me stop. His hand caught mine, pulling me back, his touch firm but not forceful. I turned slowly, my breath shaky, and there he was—Marcus, staring at me with a look that made my chest tighten even more. Sadness. Regret.

"I'm sorry, Karla," he said softly, wiping a stray tear from my cheek with his thumb. "This is new to me too. I don't want you to think I'm some asshole." His voice cracked just enough to make my heart ache.