“Don’t be a coward,” he shot back. “Sayit.”
“No.” I sat back, folding my arms over my chest. “That’s embarrassing. And unnecessary.”
“I’m. Not. Stupid,” he repeated it louder now, drawing curious looks from people at other tables. It was unlike him to call attention to us. I looked around, my stomach cramping with anxiety. “Grow some balls, Princess.”
“I reject the chauvinistic notion balls equal guts. Women are just as—”
“Spare me.” He raised his palm in the air. “And just spit it out so we can get on with our lives.”
“I…” I took a deep breath. “I mean, I’m not…”
“Stupid,” he finished for me. “Correct. Now give me the entire sentence.”
“Wait a minute.” I frowned. “I thoughtyousaid yourself that I’m stupid.”
He shook his head. “I said unbearable. Not the same thing.”
“I’m not…I don’t…” Tears pricked the back of my eyes.
“Goddammit, Hallie.” He stood up suddenly. I did the same, out of pure instinct, my legs moving on their own accord. I had this odd, dangerous feeling that the world around us had stopped on its axis, drawing a collective breath as it watched us. We were stuck in a bubble.
And bubbles, I knew, were destined to burst.
Sunset licked the sky in brilliant blues and fierce oranges. For one, desperate,patheticmoment, something foreign came over me. Dark and addictive.
I felt cherished. Maybe even understood.
We were standing in front of one another, panting. The only buffer between us was a wonky table. My fingers tingled to reach across and touch him.
“Say you’re not stupid.” His eyes burned, consuming my soul in the process. His hands were braced over the table. “Say it to me, Hallie.”
“I’m…not…” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Stupid. I’m not stupid.”
“Louder.”
“I’m not stupid!”
“Can’t hear you.”
“I’m not stupid!”
Each time I said it, another drawer in my heart unlocked. I felt a little lighter, a little better about who I was. I wanted to call my parents and say,see? See?
Of course, they already knew. They’d kept the truth away from me, from the world, because it embarrassed them. And the sheer discomfort it caused them was more important than my self-esteem. My self-worth.
And they had the audacity to tell me I wasn’t trying hard enoughfor them.
My cheeks were wet and cold. I realized I was crying. Publicly.
Our waitress chose that moment to approach with our tray of food.
“Not now.” Ransom lifted a hand, shooing her away. His gaze was still fixed on me. I waited for him to say something. I desperately wanted him to make the next move. Mainly because I felt there was more to this. More to us. He looked at me with newfound respect.
I could get addicted to this.
“Still want to get rid of me?” Mockery made his eyes glitter.
I shook my head, realizing this was the truth. He was horrible to me—sometimes. And overbearing—always. He was bad-mannered, and callous, but he also taught me self-worth, made me stand up for myself, and somehow, somewhere along the way started treating me as an equal.