The Geography of You and Me(45)

But somewhere in the midst of it all—the steady tilt toward each other and the sudden flutter of anticipation—she remembered herself, and almost without meaning to, she found herself leaning back, just slightly. It was barely noticeable, only a fraction of an inch, but it was enough to shift everything from slow-motion back into the awful, mundane speed of the everyday, and just as suddenly, Owen pulled back, too.

They stared at each other. Something in his eyes had changed, and it caught her off guard. She’d been the one to stop it, but there was a look of relief on his face that made her cheeks burn, and she blinked at him, reeling from what had just happened: the nearness of him, and now, just as quickly, the distance.

“Sorry,” he said, and she sat up a bit straighter. It was true that she was a little fuzzy on the etiquette involved with an almost-kiss, but it seemed to her that if she was the one who pulled away first, then she should be the one to apologize.

“No,” she said, shaking her head, inching even closer to the edge of the bench. “It’s my fault, I didn’t—”

“I shouldn’t have even been—”

“I didn’t mean to—”

They were talking over each other again, and they both stopped at the same time. In another conversation, they would have been laughing about this, or at least smiling, but there was too much still hovering between them right now.

Owen raised his hands, a helpless gesture. “I should have told you earlier,” he said, his words measured. “There was this girl I was seeing in Tahoe.…”

“You have a girlfriend?” Lucy asked, unable to stop herself. She could feel her mouth hanging open, and she closed it abruptly.

He shook his head, then nodded, then shook his head again. “No, I mean, sort of. I don’t know. It’s…”

“Complicated?” Lucy asked, her voice colder than she’d intended.

“Yeah,” he said. “Now that I’m down here, I’m not exactly sure where we stand. And I’d hate to do anything that would—”

“Nothing happened,” Lucy said, even while she was thinking just the opposite: that everything had happened. “So you don’t need to worry.”

He ducked his head. “I’m really sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I have a boyfriend anyway.”

“You do?” he asked, looking up sharply.

She frowned. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“No,” he said, swinging his head back and forth. “Of course not. It’s just—”

“We’ve been together pretty much since I got to Edinburgh,” she said, and then, though there was no reason to continue, she added, “He’s a really great guy.”

“That’s great,” Owen said, a wounded look in his eyes. “Then I’m happy for you.”

“You too,” she managed to say, though she felt like crying. “What’s her name?”

“Paisley,” he said, and a short laugh escaped her.

“Seriously?”

He bristled. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” she said lightly. “I’ve just never heard it before.”

“Why, what’s your boyfriend’s name?” Owen said, practically spitting the word boyfriend.

Lucy hesitated, surprised by his tone, which was full of resentment. “Liam,” she said quietly, and he snorted.

“Liam and Lucy?” he said. “Cute.”

“There’s no need to be a jerk about it.”

“Does your boyfriend know you’re having dinner with me?” he asked, his eyes flashing.

“Does your girlfriend?” she shot back.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“She just wouldn’t want you trying to kiss other girls.”

“You tried to kiss me.”

“No,” she said. “I was the one who stopped it.”

“This is ridiculous,” he said, standing abruptly. “I’m not going to sit here arguing about this.”

“Fine,” Lucy said, jumping up as well. Another wave of frustration washed over her, and she grabbed the foil wrappings from the tacos, pounding them into a ball, which she held in her fist. “Say hi to your girlfriend.” It was a stupid, childish thing to say, but she couldn’t help herself. He smirked in response, and though this should have only made her angrier, she felt suddenly deflated instead. The wind was blowing his hair so that it fell across his eyes, and he was standing with his feet planted wide, his arms crossed tightly in front of him. It was hard to tell if he was upset or jealous or both.

“Yeah, send my best to Braveheart.”

“William Wallace,” she corrected automatically, “and he’s not—”

“Forget it,” Owen said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I should get going.”

Lucy pressed her lips together, stunned by how quickly the evening had unraveled. Finally, she shrugged. “Me too, I guess.”

“Fine,” he said.

“Fine,” she said back.

He stared at her for what felt like a long time before finally lifting his shoulders. “Thanks for coming.”

She nodded. “Thanks for the tacos.”