We were in the park, somewhere a little different for us, but it would have been less neglected if we had time to roam around in our travels. Anyway, we were sitting on a park bench with my Dorothy Parker book open. I was reading a poem and he was looking at my legs. He missed the purpose of having the book open but I have to admit it wasn't bad just sitting together without anything to bother us. The sun was shining, the park was quiet, and we were together.

How can that be ruined?

"You're still talking to one of your ex-boyfriends?" It caught me off guard but it definitely caught my attention. Pretty much out of nowhere, but if he really wanted my attention he got it. I was trying to shake off the sleep that I thought I was under. That was my first reaction mostly because it sounded ridiculous. Honestly, who says that?

"I don't even know what you're talking about, and if you're listening to crazy gossip then I don't have to tell you how ridiculous that is." Although I laughed and I had a smile on my face, Carlito didn't look very amused. In fact, it was a safe bet to guess that he was angry about something. "What?" I said with another laugh, tilting my head up to look at him. Again there was that sour expression.

Enough reading. I closed the book and placed it beside me on the edge of the bench. If he was going to give me the look I was going to give it back to him. I invented that look, if he forgot. Once upon a time my face just looked like that automatically. "You wouldn't lie to me?" Now I was getting annoyed. I stood up from where I sat, crossing my arms in front of my chest, and looked down at him. He wasn't going to be outdone though. Not at all. He did the exact same and stood up as well.

My common sense tells me that raising my voice is the worst way to calm everything down, but it sure as hell felt right. "What's the matter with you? Did you just come here to pick a fight?" Even though I knew the answer and I didn't really care, I was doing that 'smart' thing that girls do when they want to pick a fight. Some call it guilty conscience and some call it stupidity. I call it a normal move for one Trish Stratus. "I just want to know why you're not telling me things."

My fingers ran through my hair as that little thing called guilt kicked me in the ribs. My arms went from my chest to straight down to my sides. That awkward shuffling, you know? With my hands on my hips I thought over things quickly. "Wait. Are you going through my things?" I sound like a cheater, like one of those guys that get caught on Maury, but which one is more dishonest: writing to an old friend or possibly snooping?

"It was open."

It was open. That was it? Out of all of the excuses for invading someone's privacy, the best one he could think of was that it was open. "It was open?" That's how ridiculous I found it. It was so ridiculous that I had to repeat it. "What gives you the right to snoop through my things? You're not even my boyfriend. It's none of your business who I talk to. I could have a date tonight and it wouldn't be any of your business. Do you know why? Because you don't have the right to get angry or upset with anything I do."

Was it right to actually say that? Probably not, but it was true. Who was he to care so much that he would look through my things? I didn't even give him a reason to suspect that there was anything wrong. Nothing is wrong anyway. But I still felt it was necessary to run my mouth. "I can't believe you're even insinuating that you deserve to have a say in who I talk to."

Even when I looked at him in anger, I had to admit that I was still thinking how pretty his eyes were.

"You can get a cab, right?"

And just like that, I was left standing alone in the park.

Tonight, I don't have to worry about hiding my journal.