“So am I.”
Standoff. Why didn’t he just send an
email this time? It would’ve been simpler. “What happened on Friday, I can’t...” She still didn’t have the clarity to know what to say, but he saved her the effort.
“Of course, I understand.”
Some of the tension in her chest released. He didn’t intend to make this hard for her after all. Harder than watching him stand there looking suddenly more wounded than warrior. “I’m sorry.”
His brows shot up in surprise and his shoulders lowered. He looked miserable. “Nothing for you to be sorry about. I came on too strong. I guess I read your signals all wrong. I’m the one who’s sorry. My radar really is off lately. You’d think I’d have worked out—ah never mind—I’m sorry. That’s what I wanted to say.”
“Ant, you didn’t do anything wrong.” There was no good reason not to be adult about this, to be truthful. It’d be more mature than hiding half her life. “I think I started it.” Ant’s expression said confused, she clarified before she could stop herself. “I know I wanted it.”
He squinted at her, then his lips narrowed. “Well, that’s a first for me. Was I some kind of experiment?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know a walk on the wildside.”
She dropped her eyes, embarrassed by remembering how far they’d gone in a public place, and how far she’d wanted to let it go. “I wouldn’t normally do something like that, and no and it’s not because we’re colleagues.” She shrugged. “We wouldn’t be the first to decide to hide an office romance.”
He pushed a hand through his thick hair. “I just wish I’d known.”
“Known what? About derby? You have to get why I don’t want that to get out. Underwear that says Bite Me is hardly compatible with my day job.”
He grinned at that. “I get it, though I think you’re wrong to keep it secret. It’s no different from one of us boys playing football. I don’t get why you’re so sensitive about it. It’s another demonstration of what a fierce competitor you are, how gutsy.” He sighed and did the thing with the hair again. She knew how thick and soft it was, her own hand twitched to follow his. “I just wish I’d known your sexual preference.”
She balled her fist. “My what?”
“I guess I should’ve realised roller derby attracted a lot of lesbian women.”
“What, hold on a minute? You think I’m a lesbian?”
“It explains...”
She cut him off. “You think it explains why I stopped us on Friday night?”
He looked thoroughly confused now. “Doesn’t it?”
“Oh my God! You think the only reason a woman would reject you is because she’s a lesbian? You egotistical, narcissistic—”
Ant’s hands came up as if to fend off an attack. “Whoa. Are you bi?”
“Pig-headed, holier than thou, big boofy, temperamental, ignorant, judgemental—”
“Bree?”
He took a step back and smacked into a built-in shelf unit, hitting his head. He winced so it must have stung. Good. She took a step forward and he tried to disappear into the shelving. “I can’t believe I kissed you!”
“Bree.”
She glared at him. He looked like he’d been dumped by a surprise wave and came up coughing sand. She banked her anger. He wasn’t worth spending it on. She pulled the door open and went for her desk and there wasn’t a single pain left in her body, because they’d all packed their bags and migrated to her heart.
13: Stickyfoot
Ant lasted till midday before he rang Toni, which was his next tactical error after thinking the copier room was a good place to talk to Bree privately. Toni growled one word, “Lunch,” and hung up on him. He texted an apology, he was getting practice at saying sorry at least, then stuck to his desk like he was the hook and it was the fuzz of velcro. He couldn’t peel himself away. He had no desire to even need an occasion to avoid eye contact with Bree. And he certainly didn’t want to see her limping and imagine how bruised and sore she must be. He didn’t know what to think let alone say to her.
Did she like girls or did she like him?