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“Storm...”
He leans down even closer to me, and I brace myself for his kiss, but he doesn’t kiss me. “You will touch me, Evie. I want to feel your hands all over me because it’s like a fucking drug for me right now and I need it.” He leans his forehead against mine. “And I’m going to make you beg me to let you because I need that, too.” His lips meet mine so softly... so briefly... that when he pulls away and walks out of the room, I’m left wondering if it actually really happened.
The fuck?
All this talk of touching and making me beg has my girly parts in a quivery wet mess. What the hell just happened? He can’t just come into my own home while I’m sick—breaking and entering, mind you—and tell me I’m going to be touching him and begging for it. I hear the shower running. Is he seriously taking a shower now after getting me all in a frenzy? He’s completely bat shit crazy. I need to get him out of here before I lose my mind and do something stupid. Especially, if he thinks he’s going to boss me around while I’m sick and not able to even think straight.
I text Michael.
Me: I feel like shit. Going to rest all day. Miss you
Michael: K. In a meeting. Feel better. Call me later. MY2
I stare at my lie on the tiny screen. I don’t miss him. This fact sinks into me slowly and then spreads from my mind all the way down to my heart, then plunges deeply into my stomach like a heavy rock.
I get up and go upstairs to wash up in my bathroom and put clean clothes on. I look a mess—red nose, watery eyes, clammy skin. Just great. I go back downstairs with Halo hot on my heels and fill his little dishes with food and fresh water.
“You should be resting. Get back on the couch.” I’m both relieved and disappointed he’s fully clothed now in jeans and t-shirt.
“You have to go now,” I tell him. “Thank you for everything, but I’m okay.”
He leans against the kitchen counter and crosses his arms defiantly. “When is Michael coming back?”
“Sunday.”
“Then I’m staying until Saturday night.”
“No. You can’t.” I head back to the couch because I’m feeling dizzy again, but he follows me just like a cat.
“I’m not leaving you alone when you’re sick. It’s not cool.”
“Storm, I’m not a baby. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.” I lie on the couch and pull my blanket up over me.
“Then it’s time you give someone else a turn. Look, next month I go on tour and it’s going to be fucking chaotic. I like hanging out with you. We can watch movies and eat ice cream. We’ll take naps like we did in the truck.”
I swear, I think he wants to be back trapped in his truck. Maybe in a way, I do, too. As much as we annoyed each other, I liked our little bubble of us.
“Come on...” he begs, giving me his sad puppy eyes.
I really don’t want him to go. Partly because I hate being alone when I don’t feel well, and partly because I kind of like having him around, and I’m not really ready to never see him again or give up whatever it is we are.
I finally give in. “All right, but I have some rules. No more touching or inappropriate behavior. Okay? I have a boyfriend and you need to respect that. I’m not a slut, and I don’t like you trying to turn me into one.”
He looks visibly insulted. “Evelyn, I would never, ever, want you to be a slut. Unless you’re my slut.” He quirks his eyebrow up.
“Good. I’m going to ignore that last part. And no more picking locks. That is seriously creepy, not to mention illegal.”
“I was worried about you.”
“Whatever. No more of that. You can’t just do whatever you want. There are certain boundaries, okay? I would like us to be friends. Real friends. I will not be some toy for you when you’re bored, though. So if that’s your plan, you can just leave.”
“I don’t get bored.” He deadpans. “And I have enough toys.”
“Good, then we shouldn’t have any issues.”
He lifts my feet off the couch, sits where they were, and then puts my feet on top of his legs.
“You can sit over there in the chair, ya know. Or on the loveseat.” I motion over to the other furniture in the room that is currently unoccupied by a sniveling person.
“I’m fine here.”
Unwrapping a cough drop, I shrug at him and pop it into my mouth.
“Why don’t you want me?” he blurts out, as if he can’t even fathom it. I laugh at the sheer audacity of his question, but he doesn’t laugh or smile at all. He waits for me to stop giggling much like a parent waits for a child to stop acting like an idiot so they can continue being serious.
I force myself to stop laughing. “Excuse me?”
He says it slower this time, like maybe I didn’t understand it the first time. “Why don’t you want me?”
“Storm, are you really this used to women just throwing themselves at you? Am I really the first woman who hasn’t come running to you, tongue wagging, legs spread?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hurt your amazingly large ego and obvious world record.”
“Evelyn, I’m serious. Just tell me why.” He’s still not laughing.
“I... okay, I’ll be serious.” I struggle to find the words to explain to him what I feel, but how can I do that when I don’t even understand it myself? “I hated you at first. I thought you were really strange and pretty much an asshole. But now, I like you. I want us to be friends. You make me laugh and you make me feel safe. I like the attention you give me, I guess. And yes, I’m attracted to you. I mean, look at you. But I have a boyfriend. I have never been a cheater. And you... like you said, you don’t d
o relationships. You have your fuckbuddies. I think you like that I’m a bit of a conquest for you. I just don’t want to be that. I don’t want to be some sort of fun challenge for you, so you can see how far you can push me and how much you can fuck with my head and my body before I give in and sleep with you, and then you move on, leaving me a huge mess.”
“Why do you make it all sound so bad? What’s wrong with setting your sights on something or someone that’s a bit out of reach?”
“Nothing, if that’s what two people are into. What I’m trying to say is I don’t want to be part of that. It’s not me. Yes, I’m attracted to you if that makes you feel better. You seem to need to hear it. But I really don’t believe you’re attracted to me. Look at me, I’m like five feet tall with hardly any boobs, pale skin, I’ve been a mess since the day we met. I am not the super model you are used to.”
He squeezes my foot. “Evelyn, I am attracted to you. I think you’re fucking adorable. I’m sick of girls like that—”
“See?” I interrupt. “You’re bored. You want something new.”
He runs his hand through his hair, exasperated. “Why do you make things so hard? I don’t sit around and analyze my feelings. I just go after what I want. I think you’re miserable with Michael. He seems to treat you like fucking shit.”
“That doesn’t mean I should jump into bed with you!”
“I know that. Did you ever think you’re just wasting time with him?”
“No.”
“Do you really think if I just wanted to fuck you and leave you, I’d be here taking care of you?”
“No... at least, I hope not. And I appreciate that you’re taking care of me, but I’m not going to fuck you in return.”
“That’s not what I want, Evie. I think you know that much. You can’t deny there’s something between us, right? Am I the only one who feels a connection here?”
I stare at the wall behind him. I don’t want to answer this.
“Right?” he pushes.
“Yes, there is something.”
