Felicity could do nothing but watch as Matt fumbled over his own words, calling Tristanâs girlfriend hot, then insisting that Felicity was hotter. She wasnât the blushy kind â but she felt herself turning pink, felt herself missing whenever things werenât so formal and forced between the pair. Sheâd ended things, ruined whatever they had. She had to deal with the consequences now.Â
âThanksâŠâÂ
She wanted to die. This was so fucking awkward. Felicity couldnât take it any longer!
âI was really drunk. When I kissed you. I was drunk. And we were a billion miles from home. And Tristan was being annoying.â
And deep down, I wanted to.Â
âWe donât have to be awkward around each other,â she assured him. âYou wonât hurt my feelings if you think someone else is hot.â
Sheâd be hurt, a little jealous â but sheâd made things this way. It wasnât fair to confuse either of them⊠even if she did think about him more often than she admitted.
Matt didnât know how not to be awkward around Felicity; he loved her. Her explanation for the kiss in Moscow stung a bit. He kinda hoped she wanted to fix things after she dumped him. It might be pathetic but Matt would go back to her in a heartbeat. Sure, he met Ambrya and she was kind and beautiful, but he and Fel had history.Â
âWhyâd you do it?â he asked. âBreak it off, I mean.â The waitress came over as soon as the words left his mouth.Â
âDo you need more time?â she asked, clearly embarrassed for her poor timing.Â
Matt shook his head. âNo, weâre ready,â he said, followed by his order. He waited for Felicity to put her order in and watched as the waitress walked away.Â
âSorry, I just...I need to know. Closure or whatever. Did I do something wrong?â















