Don't Remind Me

Chapter 35: The Apology

Now: (Six Years Later)

"Don't you remember anything, Layla?" He asks me, brazenly.

I want to punch him.

How dare he ask me, if I remember?

As if I'm the one who conveniently forgot that I had confessed my feelings for him. As if, I'm the one who made him fall hard for me, and then backed out of it, by being a douche. As if I'm the one who broke his heart, and then blamed it on class differences, of all things!

The nerve of this man!

"Please don't remind me of things I'd rather leave in the past." I replied frostily. "I'm here for business. I'm not here to catch up with you, or laugh at our golden memories over lunch while unicorns and rainbows fly by the window, and glitter shoots out of our--"

His eyebrows raise slightly over this, as he grins, making me pause in mid-rant.

"So you admit it?" He smirks.

"Admit what?"

"That what we shared was golden?"

His smug smile increases the urge to punch him. He really has a gift...the gift of being irritating, just by breathing and talking.

"What we shared, died a long time ago. It could have been cyan, or burgundy, or bloody fuchsia for all I care." My hands tighten over the stem of the wine-glass at our table.

Something about this person makes me so violent, and bitchy, and NOT ME!

I hate this. I hate that he is bringing out the worst in me right now. I am so, so angry at him, that I'm losing control of myself! I always thought I had made peace with his rejection. I thought I had reached a point in my life where scum like Azaan Malik didn't matter to my well-being.

Meeting him today has proved that I am not as strong as I thought. If his mere proximity is messing up my zen-like calmness, then I am afraid what his continued presence in my life is going to do to my peace of mind.

It irritates me so much! his smug, self-satisfied smile, and his heart-stoppingly intense stares that are telling me that he is here on a purpose. A purpose that has nothing to do with business.

How can he be so blase about this? Why isn't he affected like I am? My heart is aching with the pain of a six-year-old rejection, a six-year-old separation that is hitting me like nothing else has. I want him to suffer as I did! How is it fair that I get all the frustration, and all the pain of this broken, screwed-up relationship?

"Your order." The attendant's arrival relieved me.

I watched with narrowed eyes, as Azaan sweetly charmed her into bringing us extra garlic bread to go with the chowder soup he had ordered.

I just pecked at my Alfredo Chicken, unable to stomach it, with Him staring at me constantly.

I noted that his portion mostly consisted of white proteins and fiber greens. Strange.

"My Kick-boxing trainer is a hard-ass." He grin-shrugged charmingly, his knife and fork expertly decimating his steamed fish. "Cutting down on fat these days."

I chewed slowly on my chicken, eyeing his body subtly. He looks...bigger. Still toned, and on the lean side, but I don't remember his shoulders being so wide, or his arms being so--

WHAT THE FLUB IS WRONG WITH ME? NOW I AM OGLING AT THE ENEMY! UGH.

The last thing this man's bloated ego needs is the satisfaction of knowing that he still makes my knees go weak...