Lachlan paused at the end of the hall in front of his bedroom door, his hand a few inches from the handle when she spoke, it isn't you. He froze in place and closed his eyes, considering whether he ought to continue fleeing into his bedroom or if he ought to respond. He'd never been good at that, keeping his mouth shut when he should've; he always said the wrong thing, always made it worse. Some emotions were better keeping in his heart, and he knew that, but when the time came to put it into practice he failed miserably. He should go into his room; she was unlikely to follow him, and there he would be safe to let his feelings show without anyone to bear witness.
But she spoke, and it was an opening to respond, and he remembered that he'd been the one who wanted to talk things out and he'd been the one to accuse her of shutting down and walking away. He opened his eyes and turned around, his back pressed against his door. She looked miserable as well, but he didn't know why—and wasn't that the root of the problem?
"You would have had me fooled," he said, his gaze on her crossed arms instead of her eyes, knowing that if they made eye contact she'd be really able to see him. He should never have kissed her, should not have let his hands wander in a way that left an imprint on his mind, because even looking there he could remember how it felt to have her arms around his neck, and it made the reminder of how she'd brushed him away all the worse. "But if you're just saying that - I am sorry. Truly. I do respect you, it's just -" His tone was even—maybe even too even, like he was making an active effort to keep it that way—and his expressed unnaturally still. Now he felt silly again, as though she was going to tell him that it wasn't his comment about respect that had upset her, but some way he touched her or the tone of his voice.
"I'm no mind-reader, Juliana. I wish I was." She'd insinuated that he had trouble keeping up plenty of times since they'd met, but really he thought she did a poor job of explaining herself and her intentions. He didn't mind so much when it was about the way she handled her scandal, but now there was kissing and feelings involved, and - it made it more difficult for him to cope with.
But she spoke, and it was an opening to respond, and he remembered that he'd been the one who wanted to talk things out and he'd been the one to accuse her of shutting down and walking away. He opened his eyes and turned around, his back pressed against his door. She looked miserable as well, but he didn't know why—and wasn't that the root of the problem?
"You would have had me fooled," he said, his gaze on her crossed arms instead of her eyes, knowing that if they made eye contact she'd be really able to see him. He should never have kissed her, should not have let his hands wander in a way that left an imprint on his mind, because even looking there he could remember how it felt to have her arms around his neck, and it made the reminder of how she'd brushed him away all the worse. "But if you're just saying that - I am sorry. Truly. I do respect you, it's just -" His tone was even—maybe even too even, like he was making an active effort to keep it that way—and his expressed unnaturally still. Now he felt silly again, as though she was going to tell him that it wasn't his comment about respect that had upset her, but some way he touched her or the tone of his voice.
"I'm no mind-reader, Juliana. I wish I was." She'd insinuated that he had trouble keeping up plenty of times since they'd met, but really he thought she did a poor job of explaining herself and her intentions. He didn't mind so much when it was about the way she handled her scandal, but now there was kissing and feelings involved, and - it made it more difficult for him to cope with.
— way too attractive set by mj <3 —