Page 52 of Love Unspoken

"I'm scared that he's playing a game with me. That he wants to humiliate me."

"Okay. How will he do that?"

"He'll tell others how I cooked for him when he was a jackass to me, and that I have no pride."

"Who are these other people he'll say these things to?" he asked patiently.

I felt tears prick my eyes and then bleed through. "My brother, Kara, Ann…and I'll find out he never actually broke up with Ann. That he was just doing this to entertain himself."

"Oh, Sparky," Darren sighed. "What else?" he prodded.

I chewed on my lips to stop myself from whimpering. "He'll say he wants to make love, and then when he sees my scars, he's going to be revolted by them. He'll tell me I'm ugly, and how could I ever think someone like him would be interested in someone as horrible as me."

I could hear Darren's ragged breath and it wasn't the virus. He knew this was hard for me, but it was also difficult for him to hear because I was telling him what was inside me, what my inner critics were telling me.

"Anything else?"

"Isn't that enough?" I snorted, wiping my tears.

"Okay, so you're worried that he'll spend Christmas Eve with you, eat your awesome food, and tell everyone that you're a doormat who has no pride, that even though he's treated you horribly, you still cooked for him. Yes?"

I groaned. "Well, when you put it that way, it sounds stupid. Why would he spend Christmas Eve with me just to tell someone I'm a moron?"

"Okay, so…this end state is not very likely?" He sneezed several times after that, and I waited for him to blow his nose. "I'm back, Sparky," he said hoarsely.

"He's not coming over to screw with me. He wants to spend Christmas Eve with me, which is weird."

"As weird as him sending you a Thanksgiving meal?"

"Weirder."

He laughed softly. "Now, the other thing you're worried about. He'll get you into bed, get you naked, and say he can't stand your scars; they turn him off and leave."

"Yes," I whispered. I could hear Amias saying all those things to me.

"How likely is that, Naya?"

"Very likely," I choked out.

"You think he's that much of a douchebag?"

"No, I think my scars are that⁠—"

"One thing you imagine him saying that shit, quite another you saying it to yourself," he reprimanded. "You think he'll say those things to you? You think he's that shallow a man?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "I'm scared that he will."

"I'm not going to tell you how to feel or that your feelings are wrong; they're yours and you have every right to them. How about this? You tell him about your scars before you take your clothes off and see his reaction and then assess if you want to move forward," Darren suggested.

I felt like an idiot. "He doesn't want to sleep with me, Darren. I'm just going off the deep end here. I think he feels bad about…whatever and I resigned and…I don't know why he wants to spend time with me. I'm so confused."

Darren chuckled. "Okay, I need to go back to sleep now, but you remember that you're in control, and if he misbehaves, kick him out of your house, and as soon as I stop feeling like death, I'll go beat that asshole up."

"You'd do that for me?"

"Absolutely, Sparky."

I felt a little better after talking to Darren, but then I took a shower and stood in front of my closet, and the fear was back.