Kiss Mia

You look at Mia for another second.

She’s standing close to you, but she doesn’t move any closer. Her eyes stay on yours as the silence hangs between you, so you lean in.

Your lips barely meet hers before Mia immediately pulls back.

“Whoa,” Mia says as she takes a step away from you. “What are you doing?”

The question hits you hard enough that you immediately realize you read everything completely wrong.

“Shit,” you say. “Sorry.”

Mia stares at you for a second, the relaxed expression she had a moment ago completely gone.

“Why did you do that?” Mia asks.

“I thought…” you start to say before stopping yourself. “I don’t know. I thought you wanted me to. I’m sorry.”

“Why would you think that?” Mia asks.

You don’t have a good answer.

“Yeah,” you reply. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Mia folds her arms loosely across her jacket and looks away for a second.

You feel like an idiot.

Less than a minute ago, you were standing here talking about going on an actual date with her. She had just agreed. The entire night had somehow gone better than you expected after you came back into the bar.

Then you fucked it up in about two seconds.

“I really am sorry,” you say. “I thought you wanted me to, but I should’ve asked.”

Mia looks back at you.

“I literally told you inside that I wasn’t going to fuck you and that I’m not going home with some random guy I just met,” Mia says.

“I know,” you reply. “I wasn’t trying to do either of those things.”

“I know that,” Mia says. “That’s not really the point.”

“Yeah,” you reply quietly.

Mia lets out a breath and looks across the parking lot.

“I thought you got it,” Mia says.

“I did,” you reply. “I just fucked up.”

“You spent the last hour actually talking to me,” Mia says. “You asked me out on a real date. I thought that was really sweet.”

You don’t say anything.

“And then you just kissed me,” Mia continues.

“I know,” you reply. “I fucked up.”

Mia looks at you again, and you can tell she’s still upset, but she doesn’t look angry as much as disappointed.

“I wasn’t trying to push you into anything,” you say. “I just made an assumption I shouldn’t have made.”

“Yeah,” Mia replies. “You did.”

For a few seconds, neither of you says anything.

The easy conversation from the last hour suddenly feels very far away.

Mia pushes a loose piece of hair away from her face.

“I think I’m gonna go,” Mia says.

“Yeah,” you reply. “Okay.”

You don’t try to stop her.

Mia turns toward her car, but before she starts walking, she hesitates.

“And I don’t think the date is a good idea anymore,” Mia says.

You feel your stomach drop a little even though you already knew it was probably coming.

“Okay,” you reply.

Mia looks at you like she expected more of an argument.

You don’t give her one.

“I understand,” you add. “And I’m sorry.”

Mia nods.

“Okay,” Mia says quietly.

She starts toward her car.

“Mia,” you say.

She stops and looks back.

“I’m not gonna bother you or try to change your mind,” you say. “I just really am sorry. I had a good time talking to you tonight, and I shouldn’t have ended it like that.”

Mia watches you for a second.

“I had a good time too,” Mia replies. “That’s why I’m upset.”

You nod.

There isn’t really anything else to say.

“Goodnight, Mia,” you say.

Mia doesn’t answer. She turns away and continues across the parking lot.

This time you don’t watch her ass.

You just watch her reach her car.

Mia opens the driver’s door, gets inside, and starts the engine. A few seconds later, she backs out of the space and drives toward the exit.

She doesn’t look back.

You stand beside your truck until her taillights disappear.

“Fuck,” you mutter to yourself.

You pull open the driver’s door and climb inside.

For a minute, you don’t even start the truck.

You sit there with both hands resting on the steering wheel, replaying the last few minutes in your head.

The worst part is that the night had gone well.

Really well.

You’d gone back inside because Mia was hot and had been flirting with you. That was pretty much the entire thought process at first. Somewhere between learning her name and standing beside your truck talking about music, work, shitty pickup lines, and fake Lamborghinis, that changed.

You actually liked her.

She apparently liked you too.

She gave you her number. She waited until the end of her shift to hang out with you. She agreed to go on a date with you.

She even told you that asking her out was sweet.

Then you assumed.

You start the truck.

You sit there for another few seconds as the engine idles, looking at the empty space where Mia’s car had been.

Your phone is sitting in the center console. You think about texting her, but there isn’t anything else you can say tonight that you didn’t already say to her face. She made her decision, and you’re not going to chase after her trying to change it.

You put the truck in gear and pull out of the parking space.

A few minutes ago, you had Mia’s number, a date planned, and a pretty good reason to be glad you walked back into the bar. Now the date is gone, Mia is gone, and you’re driving home alone wondering how you managed to fuck up a night that had been going so well.