I cross my arms and pull my knees closer to my chest. “No, I’m not one of those women. My list is focused on important things. Things that matter.”
“Like?” he challenges.
“Like he must be ambitious in his career, but support my ambitions, as well.”
His lips turn down at the edges as he shrugs. “Why? Maybe your Mr. Right isn’t ambitious about anything except loving you. Maybe work is just work for him. Is that really a dealbreaker? You seem like the type who would enjoy basking in a hopeless romantic’s devotion.”
I frown, troubled by how nice that sounds.
And by the fact that Derrick so easily debunked my first “must have.”
“Okay, I see your point,” I say. “But there are other things. Things I need in a relationship, and I don’t intend on settling. I’m not going to waste my time with a guy who doesn’t share my moral code or who doesn’t make my head spin around in bed.”
His expression sobers and his eyes lock on mine in a way that makes it impossible to look away. “You shouldn’t. Those things are important. And he should be able to make you laugh. You have a great laugh.”
“Thanks,” I say, nibbling on my bottom lip. “You have a great laugh, too. I’d forgotten that. I’m…”
He cocks his head to one side. “You’re…”
“I’m sorry,” I say with effort. “For…stuff.”
“Stuff,” he echoes, blinking slowly. “Stuff like giving me shit for six years because I made one mistake that wasn’t really a mistake?”
“You called me a brat,” I remind him. “A brat who needed to learn she didn’t always get what she wanted.”
“Not my finest hour, but you were drunk and taking your clothes off at an alarming rate. And I was…angry. Mostly with myself.”
“For what?” I ask, pulling my knees tighter to my chest. A part of me wants to curl into a ball and hide from this conversation. But it needs to happen and what better time than when we’re both too delirious from exhaustion to shy away from it?
“For wanting to say yes, instead,” he says softly, making my heart beat faster for reasons that have nothing to do with all the caffeine surging through my veins. “You were barely eighteen and drunk. I was twenty-six, a grown man who shouldn’t have been tempted to do anything but the right thing. But…I was.”
“Really?” I whisper.
“Really,” he says. “Does that make you hate me more or less?”
Limbs suddenly shakier than they were before, I force my arms to unclench around my knees. I tuck one leg under the other, trapping my trembling hands between my thighs. “I don’t hate you, Derrick. I’m not sure I ever really did, but I certainly don’t now. And I understand why you pushed me away. Even a few months ago, I would have insisted I was a grown-up who knew what I was doing back then, but…” I sigh. “I’ve gone to a few of the art shows at the youth center where Evie’s working. I’ve talked to the teenagers she’s mentoring and even the brightest, most insightful seventeen- or eighteen-year-old, is still a kid. So…” I shrug. “I guess I probably was, too. Even though I didn’t feel like it inside.”
He extends his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers now close enough to touch if I dared.
But I don’t. The energy between us is no longer fun and friendly.
It’s charged. Electric with dangerous possibilities.
“I wasn’t as grown up as I thought I was, either,” he says. “If I had been, I would have handled the situation better.” His lips hook up in a half smile. “And I wouldn’t have let my friends talk me into crashing a high school party with them in the first place. How lame was that?”
I shake my head. “It wasn’t. I mean, maybe it was, but there were tons of people your age there. And older. You know how it is. Not a lot to do in a small town once the one bar closes at eleven.”
“I do know how it is.” His smile fades. “I’m so glad we all got out of there. It wasn’t a bad place to grow up, but the people who stayed feel so stuck to me now. Like they graduated and all the learning and growing just…stopped.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Even my parents are like that to a certain extent. They don’t question things or reexamine their opinions. It’s like they’ve lost all their curiosity. If they ever had any to begin with.” I shudder. “I mean I love them, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t want to be like that. I want to keep learning and changing, even if it’s hard sometimes.”
“Me, too,” he says, arching a tired brow. “Looks like we might have more in common than we thought.”
“I’ve always known we had a lot in common,” I hear myself murmur, but I’m too tired to keep my tongue under control. “We’re two sides of the same coin, Olsen. Different on the surface but made of the same stuff.”