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I can see it. Battle ready. Jaw set. Tongue sharpened.
Got her emerald eyes on that makes me weak in the stomach and kills all my resolve.
She could walk all over me, strangle me to death, and I wouldn’t notice. If the emerald eyes are out then I’m dying anyway.
Shit.
“No, you’re right—” She nods. “You said, ‘Are you drunk?’ and ‘Why are you telling me this?’”
“BJ—” Taura sighs like it’s her I hurt.
I give Parks a look. “Can we not do this in front of them?”
“Do what?” She blinks. “I have nothing left to say to you.”
I sniff, annoyed. Look out the window.
“Actually, I do have something to say to you.” She clears her throat. “Do you have any idea—” She smacks me in the arm — a good sign, that. Any kind of physical touch from her is a good sign. “—How embarrassing that was? Telling you and you having nothing to say back to me?”
“Are you being serious right now? You called me in the middle of the night—”
“—it was, like, 11,” she growls.
(“Actually, because of Jordan, he goes to bed pretty early these days,” Jonah interjects.)
“—With my girlfriend upstairs,” I keep going. “And you fucked off — remember? You left—”
“—Because you cheated on me with my best friend!”
(“Ex-best friend,” Taura notes, and Jo shakes his head. “Probably not the time.”)
I talk over both of them. “And you’re standing there, in exercise clothes—”
(“Bit of a weird aside, my man.” Jonah nods from the front.)
“—Telling me you love me.” I stare at her. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
She stares at me. Glares, actually. Her eyes pinch and a look rolls over her face, and then my favourite sparring partner arrives: Petty Parks.
“Nothing.” She shrugs a tiny bit. “I take it back.”
I snort a laugh. “You can’t.”
(“This isn’t going to be a good birthday.” Taura shakes her head.)
“I can.” She nods. “I take it back.”
I shake my head at her, defiantly. “You can’t. You already told me—”
(“Oh fuck,” sighs Jonah.)
“—You love me,” I tell her. “I heard you. My doorman heard you. You love me, there’s no take backs.”
She breathes loudly through her nose, huffing.
And my heart is racing. I love fighting with her. Love everything with her, actually. Sleeping, showering, reading, driving. But fighting? That’s kind of our sweet spot these days.
We didn’t fight before but now it’s all we’ve got left. Closest thing to throwing her against a wall and kissing her is just throwing words at her.
