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“Don’t fucking ignore me. I’m tired of you ignoring me!”
“Stop shouting at me,” I grit, turning to face him now, tapping the tips of my fingers against my thighs. “I said leave me alone. You fucked up my car, my building…”
“I just…” He looks at the people who are walking past us, looking at us with curious gazes, and grabs my arm, yanking me to the side of the building I was about to pass.
“GET OFF ME!” I shriek, readying myself to run.
“I JUST WANT TO TALK TO YOU!” he bellows in my face, slamming me hard up against the brick wall of a busy clothing store. My head throbs where it hits the wall, but he doesn’t care about that. Neither does anybody else. Nobody steps in, of course they don’t. I’m not their problem. “Please. Let’s just talk.”
“Fine… but in the deli. Okay?” I don’t want to but right now I just need to get somewhere public with surveillance. My head hurts from where it hit the wall.
“Sure.” He looks relieved and I feel it too. Relieved because he agreed.
We walk side by side to the last place we ate at before I broke up with him and he turned psychopathic. I’m twitching like crazy but trying to control myself. I don’t want him to see that he has any kind of effect on me. He holds the door open, I’m not happy to see it so empty but then this is a late lunch so I suppose it can’t be helped.
We move to the counter and to say this is strained would be the understatement of the century. Though he looks entirely relaxed and smiles at the barista as I make my order.
“I’ve got this,” Pax murmurs, pulling out his card.
“No,” I say firmly, shaking my head at him. I don’t want him thinking I owe him anything.
“I said I’ve got this,” he repeats and the barista laughs, giving him flirtatious eyes. She’s totally not seeing that I hate him. I’d say she can have him, but I wouldn’t wish his kind of crazy on anyone. He taps his card against the machine after saying his order too.
I’m no longer hungry.
I dance my fingers on the table when he sits opposite me, counting in sixes until forty-eight. He lets me, smiling at me with that charming smile I loved once.
“I missed your little quirks,” he says, pouting and placing his hand over mine.
I slide it free and continue tapping.
One, two, three, four, five, six, one, two, three four five, six…
“I miss you, I’m sorry about everything I did. I’m changing, I’m seeing a therapist.” He looks at me earnestly. “Losing you really opened up my eyes.”
“Being with you really opened up mine.”
His smile falters but he doesn’t get to comment because our number is called. He stands to get our lunch and drinks and I consider running.
Instead I pull out my phone and send a quick message.
Rose: Going to be late, Pax has me cornered in the deli.
Ezra: He’s not supposed to go within a hundred yards of you! I’m on my way.
Rose: Don’t, please. Let me handle this.
Ezra: I don’t like this.
I don’t get the chance to reply because he’s snatching my phone from me. When he reads who I’m texting on the lock screen he glares at me and then slams my phone so hard on the table I just know the screen has cracked. The few people in here look over.
I sit back, stiff as a board as he slides my phone my way. I don’t touch it. I don’t want to provoke him.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “It’s just… you texting him when he’s the reason we broke up… it makes me angry.”
“He’s not the reason, Pax,” I respond gently, like speaking to a grizzly that is standing in the way of your exit. “You are. Your anger, paranoia, the things you did to my car and building. It’s not okay.”
“I’m getting better.”
“You just smashed my phone. You’re not getting better.”
“I’m trying, if we just could give it another go, maybe go on a couple of dates, even just as friends.” He reaches over and runs a finger down my cheek. I fight the urge to slap it away. I’m so anxious that both of my legs are bouncing. “I really do love you.”
“I know.”
“Then please, just… be there while I get the help I need.”
“How about, you get the help you need and then we’ll talk about being friends?” I’m lying, I want nothing to do with him ever again.
“But then you’ll move on to somebody else! I can’t stomach it. It makes me feel so fucking angry.”
I see the door open as he takes a bite from his food, able to still perform normal everyday things such as eating while in the middle of trying to intimidate me back into his life. That’s when you know a person is seriously messed up.
