It's Only Temporary

Chapter 41: Mixed Metaphors (Part One)

David leaned back against the headboard with his face buried in his hands, waiting for the inevitable blow to fall. He knew it was coming. She'd already pulled away from him and wrapped the sheet around her chest. It was only a matter of moments before she got out of the bed. A grand total of 12 hours had passed since their first kiss this afternoon, and somehow he'd already managed to drive her away.

Hopeless, he thought. He could try to explain himself again, but there was no reason to think he'd do any better. Maybe there was a reason he hadn't been in a real relationship since back when he was her age. Dating was one thing, but actually getting serious with someone? Maybe he just wasn't cut out for it. Maybe some people were destined to go through life alone.

He let out a low groan, and he heard her make an unintelligible sound beside him. Was she crying? Had he managed to reduce her to tears again?

He pulled his hands away from his face and darted a sidelong glance in her direction. Her shoulders were shaking. She had one hand pressed over her mouth.

"Penny, don't-"

He broke off in mid-sentence. That sound she was making....

It almost sounded like....

Was she....

Was that a giggle?

She turned her face toward him and he saw her eyes brimming, not with tears but with laughter. Laughing at him as usual. He should have known. David felt his own shoulders slump with relief at the sight."Oh, OK," he muttered. "So this is funny?"

She had to struggle to regain her composure before she could manage a reply. "Wow, David," she said at last. "I'm starting to understand why you get cocktails thrown at you so often."

"Not that often," he growled back, all the while sending up a silent prayer of thanks. By some miracle, she'd headed back to their old familiar rapport - thinly veiled flirtation, disguised behind a volley of mockery and insults. He could work with that. He was a hell of a lot better at this game than he'd ever been at heartfelt declarations.

He stuck out his lower lip at her now in an exaggerated pout. "All you ever do is laugh at me."

"First you write me a recommendation letter, and then you run financial models on me," she replied. "I had no idea you were such a romantic!"

David's pout curved into a sheepish grin. "I'm usually quite charming."

"Really?"

"You have me kind of flustered."

"Do you want to try again? Maybe leave the Excel spreadsheets out of it this time?"

He took a deep breath. "OK," he said, still grinning. "The point I was tryingto make was that relationships should not be reduced to Excel spreadsheets. All the rules were, perhaps, a bit..." He waved a hand, searching for the right word.

"Rigid?" she supplied.

"I was going to say reductive."

"Is that a fancy Harvard word for rigid?"

"A little bit rigid," he conceded.

"A little bit?"

"Rigid. Yes. We can go with rigid."

"That's what I thought."

He looked at her uncertainly. She'd stopped laughing. Now she had her mouth scrunched over to one side, studying him.

"Does that make you feel better?" he asked.

She looked away from his face and pointed to a spot by the bedroom door. "Did you see I left my underwear on the floor over there?" she asked.