The Journalist

Chapter Twenty- Three

His lips were warm against mine. I could taste the scotch on his lips along with a vaguely minty taste. In my misguided fantasies I had always imagined his lips would taste minty and I wasn’t disappointed. He kissed me hungrily. Greg would always kiss me like this when he was drunk too I thought. Harry, Greg. I couldn’t do this. I pushed him away and stood up.

“Emma?” He asked, slightly shocked.

“I can’t do this!” I cried, covering my face with splayed fingers. Tears poured from my eyes uncontrollably. He stood up too and moved towards me.

“Emma.” He said moving towards me.

“Don’t touch me!” I shrieked hysterically jerking backwards.

“Please! I thought we had something.” Harry pleaded. I continued backing away, slowly now.

“I can’t…I won’t…”

“What won’t you do?” He asked his tone gentle even though I could tell I was making him angry.

“I can’t live with myself if I end another relationship.”

“Then why were you flirting with me this entire time?” He asked his voice cold now.

“Because I can’t keep my mouth shut!” I snapped, tears still pouring from my eyes. “Go marry Claire, Harry; I’m not worth your time.” With that I turned and ran back to my hotel room. I threw myself onto the bed and sobbed until I fell asleep.