I'm not one to take risks. I don't just jump aboard a ship and sail off aimlessly; I prefer to plan meticulously beforehand. It gives me a sense of control and minimizes the chance of failure.
Even if someone is genuinely interested in me, my tendency to overthink and scrutinize every detail can lead me to doubt their intentions.
With my back to him, I reached for the oven, attempting to open it, but my hands fumbled and failed each time. I could feel his gaze on me, but embarrassment kept me from turning around to meet his eyes.
His touch still lingered on my skin, and the memory of our earlier actions made me blush uncontrollably. Burning with embarrassment, I wished the ground would swallow me whole.
What must Nick think of me now?
I was not only embarrassed but also angry at myself—and frustrated with the oven, which stubbornly refused to open.
"Hey, easy there. Are you okay?" His voice broke through my thoughts, reminding me he was still in the room, a presence I didn't know how to face at that moment.
More than the uncooperative oven, I resented that question. I hated myself for stepping into territory I vowed I never would.
My thoughts spiraled out of control again. I was so consumed by everything that I didn't notice Nick had taken hold of my wrist. I quickly pulled my hand away, stepping back two paces.
"I... I'm fine," I muttered, rubbing my head.
"The oven... it won't open." Returning to the oven, I tried once more to pull the handle, but it remained stuck.
"Let me," Nick offered, reaching over my shoulder. His cologne wafted over me, reigniting memories of what had happened.
I shook my head, forcing those thoughts away. With a quick twist and pull, Nick managed to open the oven door, revealing the cupcakes inside.
Stepping away from him, I watched as Nick placed the cupcakes on the counter before turning to face me. I swallowed nervously, avoiding his gaze.
"Oh, look at the mess we've made here. We should clean up," I suggested anxiously, glancing around. He chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow.
"Don't worry, we can clean up later. Right now, I'd like to know what's been bothering you." There it was—the conversation I had been avoiding, one I wasn't prepared to have.
"What do you mean? What's bothering me? Nothing... I'm fine... you know what? I just remembered I have something important to attend to. I apologize, but I really must leave. I'm sorry about the mess, but—" I stammered through my words, desperate to escape the house and everything that had transpired.
It was the first time I had acted impulsively and done something reckless; I didn't regret what had happened, but I was grappling with the consequences.
As I finished my rambling, I turned around, ready to bolt, when my arm was grabbed, and before I knew it, I was pressed against the wall, Nick towering over me.
I looked up, letting out a startled gasp at his unexpected action. Heat rushed through my body as I met his intense gaze, lost in the depth of his eyes for a moment, unable to look away.
"You're not going anywhere until you explain this sudden change," Nick spoke, his eyes piercing and voice low. I realized then that I had to confront this now.
"What do you mean exactly? This is just how I am," I tried to steady my nerves, though they felt like they were jumping out of my skin.
"I just remembered some urgent matters I need to attend to," I added, trying to cover my tracks. I hoped Nick would buy it and not press further. As I waited for his response, I mentally prepared myself for any follow-up questions.
"And you're planning to leave right after..." I closed my eyes, hoping he wouldn't mention the kiss.
"...messing up my kitchen?" My eyes widened in surprise at his question.
He wasn't going to ask about the kiss?
I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I was relieved he didn't bring up the awkward moment, yet I couldn't shake the feeling of whether he had been affected by our recent encounter.
Still, it felt easier this way.
I surveyed the kitchen, grimacing at how accurate his observation was. The kitchen was a mess—food scraps scattered on the counter, dishes piled up in the sink, and crumbs everywhere. I met his gaze and sheepishly smiled.
"Well, to be fair, we both contributed to this," I admitted, clearing my throat as he raised an eyebrow.
"How about I help you clean up quickly, and then I can head out?" I suggested, hoping to lighten the mood between us.
"Sounds good," he agreed with a small smile, stepping back as we began to tidy up.
We were so engrossed in cleaning that I temporarily forgot about the incident—until he said something that I wished he hadn't.
My heart sank as I realized he was bringing up the very thing I had been trying to push out of my mind. Oh, come on! We were doing fine! Why did he have to mention it now?
I wanted to cry, but under his unwavering gaze that threatened to drown me, all I could do was swallow hard and look away. I knew I couldn't dodge the topic forever, but I wished he had picked a better moment. Maybe when I wasn't already feeling so vulnerable.
"What do you mean? Nothing happened," I replied, feigning innocence as I continued to clean. Despite my attempt to appear unaffected, I could feel his penetrating gaze causing my heart to skip a beat.
He saw through my façade, but I couldn't muster the courage to confront him. It seemed safer to maintain my pretense and hope he wouldn't push further.
"Nothing happened?" I slowed my movements, sensing a hint of frustration in his voice. Or was I imagining things?
I took a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure and reassure myself that maybe I was overthinking. When I turned to face him, his hardened expression and distant posture suggested he was upset and disappointed.
But why? Shouldn't he be relieved that I wasn't reading too much into our kiss? Most men would prefer that, wouldn't they?
"Is something wrong?" I asked, barely audible.
My heart pounded as I awaited his response. It meant something to me—not just a fleeting kiss, but one that felt like it held the power to change everything. But I wasn't sure if he felt the same way or if it was all just a game to him.
"What do you think?" he countered, frustrating me further.
Couldn't he just answer a straightforward question?
"I'm not a mind reader, Nick," I retorted, my agitation rising. "I can't guess what's going on in your head. It would be helpful if you could articulate your thoughts and feelings so I can understand and avoid misunderstandings."
My thoughts were already tangled, and I didn't need him playing mind games. We locked eyes for a tense moment until he sighed and finally spoke.
"I'm not sorry I kissed you," he confessed, catching me off guard.
I had braced myself for him to say something like, "It meant something to me," but "not sorry"? I couldn't help but scoff, crossing my arms defensively.
"Well, good for you, but I am," I shot back bluntly.
"Why?" he pressed.
"Because it shouldn't have happened in the first place!" I exclaimed, feeling exasperated.
"Are you seeing someone?" Nick suddenly inquired, stepping closer to me.
"No," I replied flatly.
"Then what is it? We're both single adults. What's the problem?" he pressed, his tone tinged with frustration. "I could tell you enjoyed every moment we shared. You had plenty of chances to stop me, but—"
"Enough!" I cut him off sharply, irritated by his reminder of the intense connection we'd shared.
"You don't get it, do you?" I pushed away from him and moved to the opposite side of the counter, putting some distance between us so I could gather my thoughts.
"It's not just about whether I'm seeing someone or acting like adults... I don't go around kissing random guys and—"
I stopped short when I saw Nick narrow his eyes at me, realizing my words had come out wrong.
"So I'm just some random guy to you," Nick interjected with a hint of hurt in his voice.
"I didn't mean it that way. What I mean is, we barely know each other and we're practically strangers," I attempted to clarify, but each word seemed to dig me deeper into a hole.
"Stop looking at me like that, please," I pleaded, feeling my nerves fray as I ran a hand through my hair. His intense gaze made me uncomfortable and self-conscious.
"After all this time, you still see me as a stranger?" he questioned, his tone shifting as he walked closer to the counter.
"I didn't mean it like that," I rushed to explain, sensing a shift in his emotions. "I just meant—"
"Do you really think I'm the type to kiss any random girl?" His question caught me off guard, leaving me surprised.
Did he mean that our kiss meant something to him too?
"So, what are we doing here exactly?" His question hit me like a ton of bricks, and I felt a pang of guilt in my chest. I realized immediately that my words had hurt him.
"Wait, that's not what I meant. You're misunderstanding me—"
"Really? Then explain it to me, because if that's all you think, I'd rather not have a stranger in my house."
"What? Why are you blowing this out of proportion? You're not getting what I'm trying to say—"
"Then enlighten me, Mandy, because honestly, I don't understand why you're acting so strange about a kiss." His words washed over me like cold water.
His casual dismissal of our kiss confused and hurt me. I had thought it meant something, but apparently, it meant nothing to him.
"Just a kiss?" I exclaimed in disbelief.
"You see, that's the problem. It's just a kiss to you, but to me, it's not just that. I don't kiss just for the sake of it or to pass the time. A kiss, to me, is an intimate act reserved for someone special. It's not something I take lightly." I emphasized each word as I gathered up the dirty dishes and placed them in the sink.
"And I don't do casual hook-ups," I continued, turning on the faucet to start washing.
"I'm not asking you to date me or anything, but I do expect some respect for what happened. After all, you initiated the kiss. Logically speaking, you took advantage of me." I turned around to confront him, but he was leaning against the counter with a smirk on his face.
Was he bipolar or something? He was angry just moments ago, and now he's flirting with me again.
I sighed and rolled my eyes. I knew he was trying to charm and me, but I couldn't help feeling flattered by his attention. Nevertheless, I resolved to keep my guard up and not let him sway me again.
"I'm human, Nick, not a robot," I said as I started washing the dishes, relishing the cold water splashing against my skin.
"I know. I'm just glad we're back to normal," he replied. His words made my hands slow in their task.
Yes, back to normal, meaning we were supposed to pretend nothing had happened.
"So you threw a fit because I kissed you out of the blue?" Nick teased, pushing the boundaries further.
"I wasn't throwing a fit; I was just..."
"Flustered and shy?" he interjected, reading my thoughts perfectly.
"Confused. You don't just kiss a girl for no reason; aren't you afraid I'll propose to you?" I joked, trying to keep a straight face as I glanced at him.
I was curious to see how he would react. Most men freeze or turn pale when marriage or commitment is mentioned, but not him. He always managed to surprise me with his responses, like now.
"You'd make a lovely bride," he said with a charming smile that made me blush and my insides turn to mush. Why did he always have to flirt?
"I'm serious," I insisted, trying to maintain a stern expression even as a smile threatened to break through.
His mention of 'bride' made me momentarily picture him as a groom at the altar, staring at... I shook my head internally, feeling like I was losing my mind.
Glaring at him, I saw him struggle to hold back laughter, though his trembling body gave him away.
"Nick..." I winced at the whiny tone in my voice, but he couldn't help bursting into laughter as if I were the funniest thing he'd ever heard.
Still, I was glad we were okay again. It was amazing how we could lighten the mood after it had been so tense.
"Okay, I'll stop," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender between laughs.
"At least they survived," he continued, nodding towards the cupcakes, which had miraculously escaped unscathed despite our distraction.
My face flushed again at the memory. Yes, they survived, and so did we.