“The evidence you’d use against me?”
“For what?” he nearly shouts.
“Uh, to prove something.”
“To prove what?”
“Oh . . . you know.” I cross my arms over my chest and nod.
“Holy fucking shit. I really don’t.”
I don’t stay to listen, though. I go to the bathroom and clean up before brushing my teeth. I consider going to bed, but I’m really not tired. I go back out and find Eli finishing the dishes.
Hand on the wall, I ask, “Are you satisfied?”
He glances up, and his hair falls over his forehead, making him look that much sexier. “Satisfied? In what way?”
“Well, let’s see, satisfied sexually and satisfied that you got to do the dishes.”
He turns the water off and dries his hands before resting them on the counter in front of him. His triceps fire off under the recessed lighting. “Am I satisfied sexually? Yes, I can barely keep up with you. Do you make me come harder than anyone ever before? One thousand percent. Hands down, no questions asked, my dick is a slave to your pussy, and it will do anything you ask.” Good answer. “Am I satisfied with doing the dishes? It doesn’t matter to me. I just want you to take it easy.”
“Why? Are you saying if I don’t take it easy, I breathe too hard?”
“What?” he asks, wincing and blinking at the same time. “How the fuck did you get that from what I said?”
“It is what you said.”
He shakes his head and tosses the dish towel on the counter. “I don’t know what to fucking do with you, Penny.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing.” He turns off the kitchen light and walks toward me. When he reaches me, he pauses, presses a kiss on my forehead, and then keeps moving toward the bedroom.
“Where are you going?”
“To bed,” he answers and then is out of sight as he slips into the bedroom.
To bed? Why doesn’t he want to hang out with me? We usually watch a show at night together.
I lean against the hallway wall and tilt my head slightly back.
God, I hate myself. This is just not me. Yes, I’m an emotional person—passionate, one might have said. But this . . . erratic behavior is not who I am at my core. And I hate that this is what I’ve become. I used to love who I was. I hate that I keep picking fights with him to push him away, even though my heart wants to drag him closer. In my mind, if I keep him at arm’s length, I can convince myself that I don’t need him, that I can exist without his love.
Maybe you’re acting like a monster because you have no idea how to control the burning pain that is so deep in your bones. Especially because I can’t leave.
I’ve never had to wish someone would love me before. My parents, my brother, Blakely, their love has always just been there. Unconditional. And I don’t think that makes me spoiled, but rather unused to this one-sided love that promotes sadness and disappointment.
But standing here, knowing he’s upset, it breaks me.
I don’t want to be broken.
I don’t want to feel like this.
This . . . out of control.
I move toward the bedroom, where I find him in the master bath, leaning against the counter, brushing his teeth. When he spits out his toothpaste, he asks, “Do you need something?”
I nod. I can feel my tears start to surface, but I hold back, not wanting him to fret over me all over again.
He rinses his mouth. “What?”
“Are you really not going to watch a show with me?”
“Do you want me to watch a show with you?”
I nod. “I do.”
“Okay.”
He finishes up and then leads me back to the living room, hand in hand, where he reaches for the remote. “Do you want to pick?”
I shake my head. “I just want to sit on your lap.”
“Okay.” He takes a seat on the couch. I sit on top of him, and he lays a blanket over the both of us. I rest my head on his shoulder, and he curls his arm around me. Not turning the TV on, he quietly says, “What am I going to do with you, Penny?”
“Get rid of me,” I answer sadly.
“Never,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “I wish I could understand what’s going on in your brain, though. You’ve been a little up and down lately.”
I wish I could understand what’s going on in your brain, Eli.
“It’s the hormones.” I lift my head and kiss his jaw. “I can’t control them.”