"What do you mean?"
She clenched and unclenched her hands repeatedly, waiting for the tension to fly away before she spoke. "Will we ever date?"
His shoulders sank and then he ran his fingers through his short wavy hair. "Caitlin, you're tired. Get some rest. We'll talk later."
"No, we'll talk now." Anger rang through her voice. "I'm tired of the games. We almost kissed and yet we have never discussed it. What is going on? Do you like me more than a friend? Or should I move on?"
"With whom? Scott MacKay?" He bated her with his angry retort and she rose to the challenge.
"Maybe. At least he's showing more interest than you."
Fierce stares and angry silence became unbearable. "Good night, Caitlin." He stormed off the porch and sped down the drive, backwards, spewing gravel.
"Ooh, men. They can all go to hell." She let the screen door slam shut behind her. Her shoulders slumped forward with the weight of her words. "Why did I say that?" She covered her face with her hands until her breathing slowed. She then rubbed her eyes and forehead in hopes of relieving the oncoming headache. "I have no interest in Scott MacKay whatsoever. I only want to know his reasons for being here. As for Garret, why is he so damn stubborn?"
She marched upstairs, flung her clothes on the floor, thrust the sweatshirt over her head and crawled into bed. Never did sleeping alone sound more promising.