No rules.
No expectations.
It lends to mystery. To excitement. To the unknown.
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
I release a short and dry laugh. “That maybe this is what I need to do.”
Nolan shakes his head. “No way.”
“What?”
“You’re a serious relationship type of girl.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want the pressure of a relationship. I hate trying to figure out if I’m supposed to wait a week to respond to a text because he did, and I don’t have the time or energy to get invested in someone.”
Nolan stands, pacing the distance of his living room as he shakes his head. “You would hate it.”
“How do you know? You kissed me and I haven’t made it weird. I haven’t even brought it up.”
He stops and pivots to face me, eyes falling on me. “Why?”
I shake my head. “Because you were clearly…” I shake my head again, wishing I hadn’t brought it up.
“Clearly what?”
“You pulled away from me as though hearing I had Smallpox, left with someone else, and didn’t talk to me for two days.”
“And how did that make you feel?”
I frown, feeling offended on a level I don’t even recognize. “Was that a test?”
“When casual dating, it’s not messages every morning and calls at the same time every night. It’s not about needing a reason or an excuse to be gone for a few days.”
“So you were testing me?”
He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
“Because you think I’m the serious relationship type.” It’s not a question.
“Because I didn’t explain my position. I never want to lead someone on, especially not you.”
I want to ask if it’s because I’m his roommate or friend or something else entirely. Instead, pride takes the driver’s seat. “You didn’t,” I bite the words.
His lips twist. “How would you feel if I told you I’ve hooked up with other girls since kissing you?”
“Is this another test?”
He shrugs.
I want to punch him. That must be the feeling coursing through my veins, sparking anger and resentment as the sensation of being in front of an entire auditorium waiting for me to speak, consumes me.
“Good for you.” I start to pull my foot out of the ice bath. Nolan is there before I manage to free my leg, applying enough pressure to stop me.
“You still have fifteen minutes.”
I stare at him, defiantly, hating this conversation that makes me look at him through a lens I never want to see him through. One where my feelings don’t matter, and he holds all the power in our friendship.