Page 66 of Let's Kiss and Tell

We walk inside Sephora, and I can immediately tell Marsh is overstimulated. I don’t blame him. It seems like every time I’m here there’s a Black Friday sale happening no matter what time or day of the week.

“I promise I only need one thing,” I tell him and head straight for the area of the store that carries the brand I need. Marsh follows and watches me grab my shade. He then follows me to the line for the cash register that has probably twenty people. “I should have just ordered online,” I mutter.

“I don’t mind waiting,” he says.

“Spoken like a true boyfriend.”

“Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat. “About that.”

Here it is…the part where he tells me this was a bad idea. How after last night, it’s clear I’m too reckless and he’d rather go to the wedding alone.

“Yeah?” I manage to say.

“I don’t think—” he stops when what I can only describe as athirteen-year-old who looks like she’s thirty-five pushes past him to her group of friends ahead of us. “I don’t think—”

“Excuse me.” A woman behind us taps my shoulder and points to my tinted moisturizer. “Where did you find that?”

“Oh,” I say, “uh, it’s closer to the front.” I vaguely point in the right direction of the makeup minefield and then turn back to Marsh. “You don’t thinkwhat?”

“Next in line!” the woman at the open cash register calls out.

“Ugh, sorry.” I look at him and he politely takes a step to the side.

After paying, we push our way through the crowd that now feels even more claustrophobic than the club last night.

“I’m so sorry about that,” I exhale once we’re outside. “What were you saying?”

Marsh wipes a palm over his face and then shoves it in his pocket. “I don’t think the way I acted was appropriate.”

“The wayyouacted?” I repeat.

“Yeah,” he says as we start to walk aimlessly. “I was thinking about it and I feel bad that you were put in a situation with Dani and felt like you had to put on a show for her. That was not a part of the plan. Everything was happening so fast, and I don’t know…” He sighs. “I don’t like how our conversation ended.”

I’m genuinely stumped. Is Marsh here taking responsibility for something that’s not his fault? Is he doing this because this is how the night truly played out inhiseyes? Like I was put in an impossible position and forced to act like his girlfriend? Is this what emotional maturity looks like?

“Last night was absolutelynotyour fault,” I practically snap. “I feel like I putyouin a tough position. I got ahead of myself. We were having fun, and I was enjoying your company, and you looked hot,” I stress. “I’m just…I’m sorry I putyouin a position you didn’t want to be in.”

“You think I looked hot last night?”

“I mean, you did. It’s not subjective. It’s a fact…youarehot,” I say, and he has a pensive look on his face. “What? Should I not be saying that? Oh god, I don’t mean it in a harassing way. I’m just—”

“No, you told me that last night. I just thought…I just thought you were drunk.”

“I kind of was.” I let out a weak laugh. “But I remember. And I meant it.”

“You didn’t put me in a position that I didn’t want to be in, Lucy.”

“But you were right,” I counter. “There was a line that was crossed. We always agreed we would besomewhatprofessional, given what we’re doing here. So, all that’s to say, please accept my apology.”

“Apology accepted,” Marsh says. “Can you please accept mine?”

I smile. “Accepted.”

“We don’t have to talk about it again,” Marsh says. “But just so you know…I didn’t stop anything because Ididn’twant anything to happen. I stopped it because if we kept going, Iwouldn’tbe able to stop.”

His words are meant to be respectful. Explanatory. The way he says it is in the most gentlemanly way possible. But all I heard was that he would want nothing more than to have bent me over in the bathroom stall screaming his name.

His words do the opposite of what I’m sure he’s intending, and now all I want to know isjust how farwe could have gone.