Bitch

"Liam is really good looking, you realize that, right? He should have no problem getting a girlfriend."

"Just because he doesn't want to date the first person who comes along—"

"That's not it." She rubbed her temples before taking a deep breath. "He only dates people when you're dating someone else. If you're single, he's single, because if you ever decide you want to give him a shot, he wants to be available."

I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing, hard enough and unexpected enough that I started snorting and had to cover my nose with my hand.

"You really dug deep into the conspiracy files for that one, eh?" I cackled.

Hannah didn't laugh. "Thalia, stop leading him on. The touching and the kissing and the staying over at his place? He's got feelings for you. You might be too blind to see it but you're hurting him, plain and simple."

"Just because you're jealous—"

"I'm not fucking jealous!" she hissed. "Yeah, I like Liam, but it's more about me feeling bad that he's so hung up on someone who's never even going to give him a chance."

"You don't know me," I said. "And you don't know him. Liam doesn't and never has had feelings for me."

"If you honestly think that, you're a stupider bitch than I thought you were."

I rolled my eyes and walked away. That time, Hannah didn't follow.

"What was your first kiss like?"

I laughed and shook my head. "No way. Ask me something else."

Markus squeezed my hand as we walked through the park. "Tell me. I want to know."

"You're not going to like the story."

"Well, now I have to hear it."

I sighed. "Well, it was with Liam."

"Ah," he said, then laughed. "So there is some history there."

"Not really," I said. "It wasn't like... we made one of those stupid pacts that if we hadn't had our first kisses by a certain age, we'd kiss each other. So, I mean, obviously, we didn't end up having our first kisses with other people, so we went through with it."

"Not all that romantic, eh?"

I shook my head, laughing. "No. It was terrible. We kissed and then couldn't look at each other without laughing for, like, five minutes. And then I was like, 'Well, look, we did that, so why don't we kiss again until we don't suck at it?'"

"And he, shockingly, agreed to it?"

"Your sarcasm is both noted and unappreciated."

"Just teasing," he said.

"I know." I smiled, shaking my head. "What about you? What was your first kiss like?"

"Pretty awesome, actually. It was my friend's older sister. Nothing especially unique about it, though."

"Hmm, too bad. Any super unique kissing stories?"

He smirked. "Not yet. Ask me again tomorrow, maybe."

I burst out laughing. "You seem pretty confident you'll have a new story by then."

"Yeah, well... a guy can hope."

I tried to hide my smile and happily failed. Markus squeezed my hand again and we kept walking, chatting idly and flirting obviously. It seemed like only moments passed, but it must have been far longer. Neither of us seemed to realize it until the sky started darkening.

"We should head back," he said, glancing up. "It looks like it's about to pour."

We tried to hurry through the park, but the distraction of our conversation meant we had noticed the clouds far too late. Before we even reached the main road, the clouds burst, the rain coming down hard enough to bounce off the concrete sidewalk and puddle on the grass within minutes.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Markus said as we hurried down the sidewalk. "C'mon, I don't live far from here, we can wait it out there."

"You don't need to apologize for the rain, you know," I laughed.

Water dripped down his face as he first smiled, then paused, then pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Hey, remember how I said I might have a unique kissing story for you tomorrow?"

He didn't get a chance to say anything further. I reached up, tilted my head just slightly, and pressed my lips lightly to his. I felt him smile against my mouth before kissing me back just a bit harder, his hands moving to my waist.

Whoever said that kissing in the rain is romantic was a fucking liar. It's kind of gross, actually. My hair was matted against my head and my clothes were soaked; everything was wet and slippery and cold. I shivered, not from a sudden rush of chemistry between us, but from the fact that every inch of me was waterlogged and covered in goosebumps.

It was fun, though, I had to admit that. I only intended to kiss him quickly before we continued scurrying through the storm to his place, but he lingered, holding me against him until I had to practically squirm out of his arms.

"Come on," I said. "Let's get out of the rain."

Markus took my hand and led me down the street, cutting through an alley before we got to his building. The air conditioning was running full blast in the hallways, and by the time we got to his apartment, I was almost trembling from the cold.

"C-can I maybe b-borrow a sweater or something?" I asked, teeth chattering.

"Maybe I can think of another way to warm you up," he suggested.

I laughed uncomfortably. "Or maybe you could lend me a towel so I don't drip all over your carpet."

He obliged, grabbing a towel that I hoped was clean from his bathroom.

"I can throw your stuff in the dryer," he said as he handed me the towel. "But in the meantime, I can lend you some sweats or something."

"P-please."

He gave me some privacy as I dried off in his bathroom and slipped into sweatpants that were far too big for me and a T-shirt that was uncomfortably tight across my chest, especially considering my bra was soaked and I'd had to take it off, too. Holding the now-damp towel in front of me, I poked my head out of the bathroom.

"Any chance I could borrow a sweater?"

He had changed into dry clothes and was towelling off his hair when he turned to me.

"Yeah, of course," he said. "C'mon out and grab one."

I swallowed and nodded, opening the bathroom door the rest of the way and stepping out.

"You can just leave the towel in there," he said. "There's a basket in the corner."

I don't know why my nerves got the best of me. I usually didn't let them. People said I was blunt to the point of being a bitch; I really should have just told him I was self-conscious about my chest and I just wanted to keep it covered. Insecurity is a hell of a thing, though. The prospect of admitting I was self-conscious only served to make me more self-conscious.

Instead, I told myself I could do this, took a steadying breath, and put the towel in the basket behind me. I repeated to myself that it wasn't a big deal, that it was fine, that Markus wasn't going to say anything about my breasts, and left the bathroom again.

I was mostly right: he didn't say anything about my breasts. His eyes spoke for him, though, and I folded my arms across my chest and glared until he looked up at me guiltily.

"Sweater?" I asked icily.

"Right, yeah," he said, clearing his throat. "Sorry."

He led me to his bedroom and gestured at the closet. I picked the first hoodie I managed to find and wriggled into it quickly before turning back to face him.

"Looks good on you," he said, and that time he very intentionally let his eyes trail down my body.

"Don't," I said.

"What?"

"Don't look at me like that. I'm cold and soaked and I was 98% sure you weren't some kind of sleazebag, so please don't prove me wrong."

He looked amused, but nodded and held his hands up. "You're right. Sorry. You just... you look really good right now. That's all I'll say."

Maybe it made me a hypocrite, but I didn't react to Markus' comments the way I might have to someone else. It probably had something to do with the fact that I really did like him, and maybe because his clothes were soft and warm and smelled faintly of his cologne.

"Okay," I said. "Thanks."

He smiled and tilted his head towards the door. "How about I throw the dryer on and you pick a movie or something to watch while we wait?"

For the first bit of the movie, things went well. He turned the dryer on and settled beside me on his couch, close but respectfully distant enough to give me space. I relaxed, almost certain I'd overreacted earlier, and told myself I'd apologize after the movie was over. Being unapologetic about who I was as a person was one thing; being apologetic when I was wrong was another thing entirely.

I almost convinced myself that Markus deserved an apology and absolutely intended to talk it over with him. That is, of course, until he proved that even being 98% sure of someone's intentions wasn't enough.

It started innocently enough: he leaned forward to take a drink of water and put the glass back on the coffee table, and when he settled back, his thigh was pressed against mine. A few moments later, he put his arm around my shoulders. There was no fake yawn, no dramatic stretch where he reached across me as if I wouldn't notice the obvious change in position. He simply put his arm around my shoulders, then glanced at me sidelong.

"Is this okay?" he asked.

He really should have asked before doing it, but I let that slide, too.

"Yeah," I said.

Only a few minutes after that, his thumb began making lazy arcs along my shoulder. My heart primed itself to begin beating faster; my stomach did a warning flip.

"Thalia?" he said quietly a few minutes later.

"Mm-hmm?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him graze his teeth along his bottom lip.

"Can I kiss you again?"

My heart began pounding and my stomach tightened more firmly this time.

"If it's just a kiss," I said through a dry mouth.

He didn't respond to that. Instead, he used the arm that was around my shoulder to pull me a bit closer and brought his other hand to the side of my face. He kissed me slowly at first, his mouth warm and inviting, and I kissed him back. His breath brushed against mine and he deepened the kiss, just a bit, just enough to graze his teeth against my lower lip instead of his own. I wanted to enjoy it—really, I did, I wanted to like what he was doing and maybe find out what his lips felt like in other places—but I was still on edge. I was still cold, still nervous, still not quite sure I wanted to go any further with Markus.

I liked him, that much was certain, but I wasn't ready for that. I wasn't ready for him to touch my breasts or spread my legs, I wasn't ready for him to see me naked or bury himself inside me. I didn't know him well enough.

I didn't want it. Not with him, not yet. When his fingers trailed along the patch of skin just below my ear, the one that was just slightly rougher than the surrounding skin, I tensed. It felt too intimate for him to tenderly caress my birthmark, as if we weren't only on our second date but somehow further along.

I couldn't handle that.

"Can we slow down?" I asked.

"Yeah, baby," he murmured, but that didn't stop him from slipping his tongue into my mouth.

I wriggled my arms out and pushed lightly on his chest. "Don't call me that."

"Okay," he said, and pressed his mouth against mine.

His hand left my face and started moving down my arm. I stiffened, and when the palm of his hand moved from my bicep and brushed against my breast, I pulled back and forced my head away from his.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I asked.

He froze, his eyes flying open. "What?"

"I just fucking asked you to slow down and now you're trying to grab my tits."

He sat back, looking wounded.

"Sorry," he said. "I, uh, misunderstood."

"Sure." I folded my arms as he let go of me and shifted away from him so quickly that I jarred my elbow against the armrest.

He was looking at me, probably warily, but I was staring angrily at the TV across the room and couldn't quite be sure of his expression.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yep."

Markus sighed. "You said you don't play games."

"I don't," I grumbled.

"Okay, so talk to me."

"I don't want to talk to you."

"How else am I supposed to know what the hell just happened?"

I didn't respond, just continued glowering at the TV. After waiting a few moments for me to respond, he sighed again.

"Okay, I'll talk then. Here's what I understood. I asked if I could kiss you, and you said yes."

"I said as long as it was just a kiss," I muttered.

"Right, and I guess... I took that as a yes, then. Was it meant to be a no?"

"No," I said. "It was a yes, I just only wanted to kiss."

"Right," he said again. "And then I called you, uh, baby, which you made very clear you didn't like and I'm sorry. And you asked to slow down, which... I thought I did."

My palms were starting to sweat and I could feel my hands trembling. Crunching them into a fist, I pressed my folded arms against myself even harder.

"You touched my chest," I finally said.

"It was an accident," he insisted. "I was just moving my hand."

"Moving your hand... towards me. In the general direction of my tits. Like I wouldn't notice what you were doing."

"Did you want me to stop?" he asked. "'Cause if you did, that's cool, I just didn't... it wasn't clear, okay?"

"Wasn't clear?" I repeated, finally turning to him. "You thought I was, what, just enjoying myself after pushing you away and asking you to slow down? What about that wasn't clear?"

He frowned, almost looking offended. "I mean, no, it wasn't. The other day you said this date would end better and I thought... Look, I'm sorry I missed the message, Thalia, I wasn't trying to—"

"Yeah, well, sorry doesn't fix everything." I twisted back towards the TV and resumed scowling at it.

Markus took a breath, exhaling slowly before he spoke again.

"I didn't think it was that big a deal. It was just a kiss."

"Until you tried to grab my boobs, and after you couldn't tear your eyes off them earlier," I snapped. "What, am I just some kind of conquest to you? A walking, talking set of holes you can use?"

The words seemed to fill the room, accusatory and cold and angry. I couldn't take them back once I'd said them, but I had no desire to take them back at all. He was just like the rest of them, just like every other fucking guy who wanted one thing and one thing only. One statement turned to another, one excuse leading to more, and my breath could barely keep up with how hard my heart was pounding.

"What the fuck?" he finally asked, shocked.

"Oh, so you weren't staring directly at my tits from the moment I walked out of the bathroom to the moment I put a sweater on? You didn't just try to feel me up?"

He sputtered for a moment. "Okay, like... yeah, I was staring, but I didn't—"

"But nothing. You were staring."

"Yeah, 'cause you're hot!" he said. "I'm sorry I think you're attractive, is that what you want to hear?"

"I don't want to hear any of it. You're just like everyone else, you want one thing and when I won't move fast enough for you, you—"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he asked. "Are you actually serious? We kissed. We've been on two dates, Thalia. You kissed me on the cheek the other day and we've held hands, and we've kissed. That's it."

"Oh, and now you think I'm a frigid bitch who won't put out, so you're done with me."

"That isn't what I said!"

He was on the brink of yelling. My pulse was so strong in my throat that I thought I might choke, and even clenching my hands into fists couldn't stop the tremors that ran through me. I refused to call it fear. Instead, I stood up and glared at him.

"Where are my clothes?"

"What?"

"Where are my clothes?" I asked again. "I'm leaving."

He laughed and shook his head. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea."

He stood up suddenly and I instinctively jumped backwards, nearly tripping on the side table. Markus froze, staring at me like he wasn't sure what to do.

"I'm just grabbing your clothes from the dryer," he said steadily. "That's it."

I watched from one side of the room as he crossed to a door near the bathroom. The dryer protested as he opened it mid-cycle; moments later he was passing me an armful of warm, damp clothing.

"You can keep the clothes you have and bring them back another time," he said as I went to his bathroom.

"No, thank you." I slammed the bathroom door behind me and struggled into my wet clothes, left his piled neatly on the counter, and stormed back out.

"Thalia, wait," he said as I pushed past him towards the door.

"No, thank you," I said again.

"For fuck's sake," he muttered. "Look, I clearly got confused, okay? You said the other day that today would end better and I thought that meant, you know, like... you wanted to hook up. I was obviously mistaken. I think we've both said and did some things that—"

I laughed over his words, and kept laughing as he tried to continue, and laughed until I slammed his apartment door behind me and started down the cold hallway. By the time I reached the front, Liam had answered his phone.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Can you come get me?" I whispered.

I walked through the rain in the general direction I knew Liam would be coming from. When his car pulled up, I got in, my clothes making a squelching sound as I settled in the passenger seat.

"You're soaked," he said.

"Sorry. I'll clean your car out."

"Not what I meant." Liam put the car in park and looked at me. "What happened?"

If anyone else had asked me that question, I don't know that I could have brought myself to answer. Markus had touched me. He touched me in a way I didn't want him to. I told him not to and he did anyway. Sure, he said it was an accident, but he also said it was a misunderstanding, which meant it wasn't an accident.

How could I possibly explain to anyone that I'd freaked out, that I'd been scared, and that maybe I should have been clearer when I asked him to slow down? And how could I explain that I never meant to lead him on, that my statement about our second date ending better didn't mean I wanted to fuck him? How could I own up to the guilt, justified or not, of leading him on? And how could I ever possibly explain the way I was torn between blaming Markus for doing something he shouldn't have done without asking, for making assumptions on things he should have a clear answer on, and for blaming myself?

How could I tell anyone in the world, other than Liam of course, that maybe Markus was right. He hadn't called me a frigid bitch, but maybe it was reasonable for him to think that. Maybe that's what I was.

I tried really hard to be the headstrong, unassailable, confident type of bitch when I told him, but it was hard to do that when I couldn't stop crying.

"You're going to start drinking already?"

"You think I'm only just starting?" I asked, glaring at Hannah before turning back to the server. "Actually, it's Friday. Make that a double Caesar, please."

"Okay, double Caesar... anything to eat?"

"I'll take the party plate," I said, closing the menu.

The server raised his eyebrows. "The... party plate? That's meant to be shared, just so you know."

"I'm well aware," I replied. "Can you add an extra order of the deep-fried pickles onto that? And two containers of marinara for the mozza sticks."

He nodded, not quite able to hide the judgement on his face, and scratched my order onto his notepad. Liam held back his laughter until the server had walked away.

"Shut up," I muttered. "I just want a giant plate of deep-fried everything, okay?"

He squeezed my shoulder softly and didn't say anything further.

"Are you eating your feelings or something, Thalia?" Hannah asked.

"It's none of your fucking business," I replied.

"Clearly, since you almost forgot to invite me. I had to hear about this from Mike."

"Oh, I didn't forget," I mumbled.

"C'mon, Thalia," Liam said. "Let's all get along."