Sip by Sip

Chapter Seventy-Six: Empty Words

He hung up and rushed to her, pulling her into his arms. She looked bewildered, confused at this kindness and expecting the opposite.

"I know I have a lot to explain . . . But I'm so sorry-"

"You have a lot to explain?" She cut him off, "What do you mean? I'm the one who screwed up!"

"And I'm the one who showed you up." He replied guiltily. "But I swear it wasn't on purpose."

"Wait . . . What are you talking about?"

    He raised an eyebrow, "What are you talking about?"

    They both stared at each other in a few moments of silence, trying to figure out their puzzle of a situation. Finally, with a confused shake of her head, Gemma lead them both to their seats.

    "You start." He insisted, and she nodded slowly, head partially hung.

    "I . . . had a long day yesterday, and I went out for a drink, and drank a little too much. That is why I didn't show up." She explained, but her eyes continued to display her thinking. "But you didn't show up either?"

    "Uh . . . . "

    "So we both didn't show up, but we both thought we showed the other person up." She clarified, a smile forming on her lips at the discovery of the answer.

    "Yeah." He agreed halfheartedly. Truthfully, he knew his actions were far worse than hers, and wasn't looking forward to telling her about them. He wasn't looking forward to seeing her smile disappear.

    "Is everything okay?"

    "No, not really." He sighed, then admitted, "I showed you up for a far worse reason."

    Dread crept upon her face, visibly enough for him to notice. Something twisted at the pit of his stomach, the guilt eating away at his insides. He didn't want to tell her. But he knew that if he didn't, he would no longer have insides to be eaten. The guilt would consume him.

    "And what reason is this?" She asked with a half smile. Everything that night seemed to be half of what was there.

    "I . . . uh, slept," The word felt filthy in his mouth, "with Mia. Last night."

    She stared at him. And he couldn't meet her eyes.

    But she continued to stare.

    And stare.

    Nearly emotionless.

    But if she were truly emoitonless, she wouldn't be feeling like shit. As if she had been screwed over. Which in a way she had. But why should it matter? It wasn't like they were dating. It wasn't like he had ever hinted that he wanted anything with her.

    I'd love to.

    It stung, remembering the same words that had brought her so much joy.

    "Liar." She thought aloud, in a whisper he couldn't hear.

    And then she wasn't staring at him. No, she wasn't staring at him, because her world was blurred as she pushed through the coffee shop door and out onto the open streets, leaving him and his empty words behind.