“With benefits.”
“No.” I throw my hands up in disgust. “Me and you are friends with benefits.”
“You left out the dramatics part.”
“What? You spoke to me like crap,” I snap. “And for your information, you’re the one that wanted casual.”
“With no other fucking people,” he interrupts.
“Oh, you can go home with Varuscka but I can’t live with him?”
“It was a fucking lift and nothing more.”
I roll my eyes. “The jury is still out on that one.”
“Does he sneak upstairs whenever he’s horny?” He nods as if picturing something. “I’m getting the full picture now. Of course, that’s it.”
“Listen.” I poke him hard in the chest. “If you want to spend time with me, act like a grownup and not a fucking petulant child.”
“What?” he explodes loudly; people around us all turn to see what the commotion is.
“Keep your voice down,” I whisper angrily. “Where’s the swoony guy who took me out?”
He holds his hands out wide. “I’m right fucking here, Kate.”
“No. You’re not. You’re being Elliot Miles on me, the power-hungry control freak, and I don’t like him. I’ve never liked him.”
“I can’t change who I am.”
“I’m not asking for a marriage proposal, Elliot. I’m not even asking for a full-on relationship.”
“What are you asking for?”
I stare at him for a moment as I collect my thoughts. I know I can get hurt here, it’s a real possibility, but I’m sick of being scared of feeling something . . . anything. And even if this ends badly, I won’t have the what-if regrets that I already do.
Fuck it, I’m going to try.
I have to.
“I want you to give us a chance, and not be an asshole every time you get scared,” I whisper softly. I need to cool this situation down.
“I’m not scared,” he spits.
“Bullshit.” I take his hand in mine. “Stop trying to hide from me, Elliot. I can see straight through you.”
He snaps his eyes away from me, infuriated. “I don’t want him touching you.”
“Okay.”
His eyes meet mine.
“Elliot . . . I don’t want to end this . . . whatever this is,” I whisper. “I’d like to see where it goes, but I don’t want you making me feel like shit every time you’re having a bad day.”
A frown crosses his brow.
“Can we just see how it goes, and you not be an asshole for two minutes?” I ask.
“I told you, I can’t change who I am.”
I think he may just be the world’s worst communicator. Empathy fills me and I stand up on my tippy toes and softly kiss him; he frowns against me as if surprised.
“I’m not a plumber, Kate,” he murmurs as he puts his hands on my hips.
“But you are very good with my pipes.”
“Well . . .” He gives me a slow, sexy smile and I know that for the moment, my tiger has been tamed. “They are great pipes to work with.”
“Can we go home?” I whisper.
“What about your date?” he replies flatly.