Here is the rest of it. There is literally no break, I just randomly cut off where it was before. Click the clicky for part one.

MELISSA: Because I don’t understand me. (Pause. Rising, but not to get away from NICHOLAS.) I don’t–there are things I don’t know, and if I don’t know them then you can’t. And I–you can’t treat me like I’m a child or, or like you know more about me than I do. Because you know me, Nicholas. Right? You know that I’m me. That’s the best thing about me.

NICHOLAS: I guess.

MELISSA: Or at least the most salient. And you’re not–you make it sound like you’re better than me, and I don’t like that. I don’t want to–that didn’t sound like I think I’m–

NICHOLAS: I understand.

MELISSA: And I really–you–you’re a good guy most of the time, Nicholas. I–I’m sorry if I snapped at you.

NICHOLAS: I understand.

MELISSA: It’s just that–well, I–

NICHOLAS: And I’m sorry, too. Sometimes I just wish you’d–sorry, sorry. I don’t want to go into that.

MELISSA: (Reflexively; without apparent irony.) Christ, Nick. Don’t apologize. I hate apologies.

(NICHOLAS watches her for a sign she is joking; he sighs heavily and stands up.)

NICHOLAS: I did have a reason. Apart from just–

MELISSA: (Wryly; she appears to be on her guard again, and is now enjoying herself.) Apart from being the worst person in the world?

(As NICHOLAS continues, MELISSA sits down begins unwrapping her scarf lazily. She is no longer watching him.)

NICHOLAS: –apart from that, yeah. I felt like, tonight, there was–well, I guess I just wanted to know which game you were playing. I guess you won’t tell me now.

MELISSA: (Momentarily startled; she quickly finishes unwrapping the scarf and leans back to cover this.) That would be telling, wouldn’t it?

(NICHOLAS sighs and shakes his head and sits down. There is a long pause. She is staring into the middle distance, lost in thought. He keeps glancing at her and opening his mouth as if to say something, but on seeing her decides against.)

MELISSA: (Hesitant.) You know, it’s weird for me to say this, but there is a reason I was so harsh.

NICHOLAS: You mean me, right? You’re going to say it’s because of me.

MELISSA: (Confused.) Well, yes. You’re–

NICHOLAS: (Rising suddenly.) Oh, fuck you. I don’t know why I bothered. I tried to be nice, you know. I didn’t have to. I don’t have to deal with you at all. I didn’t have to invite you out, or care about–(He stops himself and finishes with a line that is clearly not what he was going to say,) care about what you have to say.

MELISSA: No, you–

NICHOLAS: No, I get it. Say no more. You win again. I should have known you’d never change. You never do.

MELISSA: (Explodes.) How dare you? You never listen. You never understand. You don’t know how much alike we are. You don’t know anything at all. You don’t know–

NICHOLAS: How much fun you have tormenting me? I get it, Melissa. I get that you don’t care about anything except your fucking games. Keep them. I’m done.

MELISSA: Christ, Nick.

NICHOLAS: Are you going to sulk because you can’t have your way now? You’re such a child. You’re such a child.

(NICHOLAS turns his back. MELISSA stares at him. She is more hurt than angry, and this has her at a loss for words.)

MELISSA: (Quietly, with an effort.) Nicholas, I want you to listen to me.

NICHOLAS: (Still fuming, but now he is questioning himself.) Why should I give you what you want?

MELISSA: Nicholas, please. I– (Trails off.)

NICHOLAS: (Turning to face her again.) You what? You WHAT? What do you want, Melissa?

MELISSA: I just want to–to say–

NICHOLAS: Do you want to get the last word in? You can have it. I don’t even know why I talk to you.

MELISSA: It’s–I think–I think I–

NICHOLAS: (As if addressing a tantruming child.) Use your words.

(This is too much. MELISSA stares, aghast, and rises.)

MELISSA: I think–I think I should just walk.

NICHOLAS: No, wait–

(MELISSA exits quickly, leaving her scarf. NICHOLAS stares after her, fuming at first, then starts after her, stops himself, takes the scarf, starts again, then stops one last time and sinks into a seat on the bench, neurotically wrapping the scarf around his hands.)

(Fin.)