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Word Prompt: Placate

Plot Generator – Binding Blurb – In 500 words or fewer, write a blurb or a short entry on getting the job done.

Not beta'd.

The next few minutes are quiet, but not uncomfortably so. We both seem to be lost in our thoughts. I can't help wondering if I went too far with my teasing. Even though the chance that I've pissed him off is remote, I'd rather make sure I haven't. I want things to be amicable between us, and I'm not above trying to placate him to ensure they are.

"Do you cook?" I ask. "I'm pretty good in the kitchen."

"God, I haven't had a home-cooked meal in I don't know how long."

"It's settled then. At some point during the next couple of weeks, you can come over, and I'll make dinner for you."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," he says.

I'm a little taken aback. "Why not?"

He probably has a perfectly acceptable reason for turning me down. He could be a vegetarian, or suffering from blood sugar problems. It's also possible that I've misread him from the get-go. Maybe he's more cautious with new friendships than he comes off.

"My schedule can be all over the place."

I back-pedal, abashed by his vague explanation. "Of course; it was just an idea. No big deal."

"It's not that I don't want to, Bella. I just think it would be better if I didn't."

His cryptic answer makes me feel even worse. I offer him a bogus smile in place of a reply, not trusting myself to speak leniently and sound believable.

Boundaries have never been my strong suit, which is why I shouldn't have extended the invitation in the first place. Anyone else would have interpreted his signals correctly, but they went right over my head. He must sense that I'm interested in him, if that's what I am. I admit he's wildly attractive, but I certainly wasn't pursuing him in any romantic sense when I suggested he come over.

My father believes it's a good thing that my heart is so open, that I still embrace the world with childlike wonder. In moments like this, I think I'm too naïve for my own good. Then again, I wasn't expecting him to actually fall in love with me. I was trying to be his friend.

And maybe I need to tell him that.

"Hey, if I overstepped my bounds or made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry. I'm going a little stir crazy at home by myself, and we seemed to be getting along pretty well. I thought we could be friends and maybe—"

"We are friends."

"Right… car buddies." If he doesn't want our connection to exist outside of his Volvo, that's fine, but I'd hardly call that friendship. It's disjointed—limiting—as though we're pretending.

"If you prefer that label." Irritation seeps from his tone. I want to laugh at how easily his mood swings, but I don't. It will only annoy him further, when I'm really just trying to understand him. Right now he seems like he has multiple personalities, or he's a straight up control freak.

The next few minutes of the drive are conspicuously silent.

A/N: A big thank you to everyone who's supporting the story. I can't say how much your reviews mean.

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I'm curious how you're all going to feel about this turn of events. Take a second and leave me your theories!