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“No.”
My mind was jumping like a cut telephone wire crackling in a puddle. In light of my thwarted desire, complete humiliation, and the sheer vulnerability of this moment, my entire being mustered up the only defense mechanisms it could.
Fight or flight. I chose both.
“You wonder why I left? Why I feel the way I do?” I snatched up my shirt and pulled it over my head quickly, not caring to bother with a bra. I just needed enough to cover my body. “You! Everything about you unnerves me. I get these small glimpses of the man I thought you were, and all other thoughts go out the window. I trusted you, like an idiot. Answered your questions. Went along with this whole thing—”
“And that was your decision to make,” he said, throwing my admission in my face.
“Well, it looks like maybe I made the wrong the one.”
“Amy,” he said slowly, as though trying to soothe a spooked animal. His tone only made my fury and tears rise. “I think we should talk and reevaluate a few areas of this arrangement.”
“Now?” I looked down at my poor excuse for an outfit, feeling similarly messy and frayed. “What is it you want to reevaluate? The fact that you’ll fuck me so long as I don’t get clingy? So long as I promise not to actually feel something?”
His jaw clenched, but he didn’t say a word. The look on his face spoke volumes, an expression of “poor-damaged-confused-girl” mixed with some kind of anger. I wouldn’t take it from him, sad looks and exasperated words. I might not have been experienced, but that was the least of my problems at the moment. Roman had made me feel more like a competent woman than I ever had, and now he was taking that away. Right in front of my face. Telling me what I could and couldn’t handle.
I clutched the fabric of my shirt against my stomach and tried not to cry. “I don’t need you to feel sorry for me,” I said.
“I don’t. I just think that my behavior the other night was overzealous.”
My chest struggled to take in breaths. His words were so clinical. I wanted him to look at me like he had previously, with fire and intensity. Not like something he was trying to contain.
“Your behavior was intense. It left me feeling several things, but weak wasn’t one of them,” I said.
“I don’t think you’re weak.”
“Then stop looking at me like that!”
He raised his chin. “I’m trying to have a discussion with you so that we’re clear on this relationship.”
“Oh, I’m clear. We are together in the eyes of everyone, right? We need to behave the way a real couple does. We can behave the way a real couple does in private too, so long as I understand that no real sentiment or feelings are involved. Is that correct?”
“It is not my intention to cause you pain or discomfort in any sense.”
“You are right now,” I whispered.
Something in his expression changed. An awful look laced his entire face, and I hated myself for causing it. What was happening? I couldn’t read him. He looked almost sick, like my admission that he was hurting me truly bothered him. And suddenly I felt the need to apologize.
“Roman, what’s happ
ening? Are you messing with me on purpose? Playing mind games?”
“No,” he said roughly.
“Then why are you treating me this way?” I said, unable to hold back my confusion and shame any longer.
“Because I don’t know how the fuck to treat you, Amy,” he said, running a hand through his hair. He paced a few steps and mumbled something that sounded like, “I didn’t plan for this.”
“Well, if your plan was stomping on my sanity for fun, then congratulations, Governor, you’ve won that race.”
He stared at me, zeroing in on my expression. I honestly had no idea what was visible on my face at that moment, but whatever it was, he didn’t like it.
“I’m done playing,” I said, and walked toward the door.
“Amy,” he called after me. “Let me at least take you home.”
I was clenching my jaw so hard, it hurt. I couldn’t look at him or say anything to him. Keeping my head down, the last thing I saw before leaving was my undergarments, still lying on the floor.
