“We’ve been friends for so long, and…” she paused, collected her thoughts, “I don’t really see you this way… last night was just… what with the wine, the kiss, the talk we had… it just sort of happened, you know?”
“Laura,” he protested, “I know I wasn’t that good, but, I’ll get better, I’ll improve! I promise you, I…”
“Bob,” she interrupted him, her voice turning sterner, “it’s not that! You were quite good, I really enjoyed myself. However,” she cleared her throat and stared straight into his eyes, discerning nothing but devastation, “I’m kind of going out with this guy… I didn’t tell you about it, didn’t want… anyway, he’s really nice, you know?
“Plays for a big basketball team, might get called up for the national team… and, at any rate, I really do like him. And after last night, I can’t… you know, be around you. Not after…”
“So, what was last night? An act of pity?”
“No, not at all!” She cried. “It was just… I don’t know. Probably, just the wine that made emotions run high.”
“Fucking fantastic,” he laughed harshly. “I really thought you were my friend, Laura,” he crushed his cigarette in the ashtray and got up. “I really thought we had something good… and, last night, I slept like a little baby, finally not tormented by cruel thoughts about loneliness and desperation.”
“Don’t do this, Bob,” she pleaded with him. “You’re making it unnecessarily hard.”
“No, I’m just…” he stopped, drew a deep breath. “Oh, what’s the point, right?” He shrugged his shoulders. “Good luck with your basketball star,” he stormed off the apartment, banging the door behind him loudly.