He started to say something, but stopped himself and took another sip of his beer. “I think they’re getting ready to close up.” He put some money down on the bar. “I’ll take you home.”
“Your place is closer. We can just share an Uber there, and I’ll take it the rest of the way.” He gave me a look. “Fine, I won’t argue.”
“That’s a first,” he said.
I nudged him with my shoulder. “You’re one to talk.”
“I’m a lawyer. I get paid to argue.”
“Calm down there, Atticus Finch. You get paid to help people copyright stuff.”
“Oh good, you are feeling okay.”
“Smart-ass.” He cocked his head toward the exit and I nodded. He held the door for me, and we waited under the hotel’s awning for the Uber to arrive as a cool mist began to dampen the pavement.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” I said as the Uber driver pulled up to my apartment building. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“Yes, you could have. You’re much less of a mess than you think.”
I huffed good-naturedly. “Who says I’m a mess?” He started to answer, but I cut him off. “Don’t. Even I can’t say that with a straight face.”
“I’ll walk you up.”
“You don’t need to, it’s right here. And I’m not drunk.”
“I know, but I want to.”
I shrugged, and he told the Uber driver he would be right back.
We walked the few feet to the door. “Safe and sound,” I said.
“I know. I just needed to work up my nerve.”
“Your nerve? To do what?”
“This,” he said, leaning in and kissing me.
Deep down, I think I had known how I felt ever since Megan’s housewarming party. Somewhere, buried beneath layers and layers of denial and scar tissue from the wound I had created with David and my own hardheaded sense of self-preservation, I knew that Alex was more than a friend. Because that feeling didn’t just magically appear when he kissed me. It was more like it had been there since the beginning and had finally broken free.
And because it had always been there, it didn’t take long for me to get over my surprise and kiss him back. Hungrily. Greedily. Like he was the oxygen I needed to survive, because right then, he was.
He pulled back slightly—it must have been him, because I know it wasn’t me—and smiled, touching a finger to my cheek so gently that it sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine.
I opened my mouth to tell him to come upstairs. To get rid of the Uber driver and be mine. But Megan’s words came back to me. And while I couldn’t imagine a scenario in which I would stop liking Alex, there were a million where he stopped liking me. Like when he inevitably found out about Justin—which would probably happen at the wedding. I can’t deal with that drama at my wedding, Megan had said. But it wasn’t just her comment—I had ruined this one before it even began. And while I wasn’t exactly in the running to be named bridesmaid of the year, I had one thing within my control: I could avoid sleeping with a second groomsman in my best friend’s wedding.
“I can’t,” I said, my face contorting from the pain of admitting that. “I—I want to, but I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” Alex said, taking my hands. “Lily, there’s nothing keeping us apart. I know Megan didn’t like it when she thought we were just sleeping together, but she’d get over it if we were serious.”
I shook my head and pulled my hands away, starting to cry. “I’m sorry. I want to, but I can’t do this.”
Alex was saying my name, but I had to get away. I dug in my purse until I found my key fob and waved it blindly at the locking mechanism to open the door. I ran past him into the building, half praying he would follow me, half praying he wouldn’t. I turned, just in time to get a glimpse of his bewildered and hurt face as the door closed behind me, then I sank down on the tattered sofa in the lobby and cried until I had no tears left.
At some point, I left the lobby and made my way upstairs to my apartment, which was devoid of Becca, as it had been ever since she started dating Will. I kicked off my shoes by the door and padded barefoot to my bedroom, planning to go right to bed. But my open laptop caught my eye and I stopped.
The blog was so therapeutic. I could hide behind the anonymity of the internet to say what I truly felt, without worrying that I was offending anyone or hurting anyone’s feelings. It was the one place where I could actually pour out all of the pain I was feeling and maybe—maybe feel a little less bereft.