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“What the hell does that mean?” I ask her, confused.
“Am I just sex to you?” Her question doesn’t catch me off guard. I know that’s what she thinks, and to a point, I hate it.
“No.”
“That’s it? Just no?”
“What do you want me to say? You’re not my wife or old lady if that’s what you’re askin’.”
“I wasn’t asking that.”
“Then what are you askin’, Yenni?”
“Am I only sex to you?”
“No.”
“Then what am I?”
“I don’t know what to say here. You’re not just sex. I don’t know how to give you what you want or what to say to make this okay. We’re just us. Isn’t that enough for you?”
6
Yenni
His words ring in my head over and over again. Isn’t that enough for you? Is it enough? I don’t know anymore. Scott wants me back, and while things weren’t great with him, I knew he cared about me. I knew what we were. With Cage, I have no idea. Is he sleeping with other women? Does he want to? Are we exclusive? I don’t know, and he doesn’t make it easy for me to find out. He’s short, but that’s nothing new for him.
“Isn’t that enough?” he asks once more.
“I … I don’t know, Cage.”
“I’m not boyfriend material, baby. I’m not husband material.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Just what I said. It means I can’t be any of those things for you.”
“Then what can you be?” I ask, needing to hear something from him. Does he not care about me at all? Is that what this is?
“I can be me, Yenni. I can be who I am.” I sigh and sit back on the bed, pulling my knees to my chest. Cage pulls his clothes off and tosses them onto the chair before climbing into bed. He motions for me to come to him, and I do. I snuggle up next to him and let him hold me.
“I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I don’t know either,” I admit. I knew going into this that Cage didn’t want a real relationship, but he also didn’t want me fucking other guys.
“Are you with someone else?” he chuckles.
“No.”
“You’re not sleeping with anyone else?”
“I said no, Yenni. I’m only sleepin’ with you.” I let out a breath of relief, but that still doesn’t help answer the question.
I stay cuddled into his side and listen to him breathe. I’m content. I’m happy in his arms. He might be different and a little on the hard side, but I still care about him. Does that make me weird?
“I don’t label things. Never have, but if you need a label, what the hell are we callin’ this thing between us?” he finally asks. My heart leaps into my throat. I knew this about him from the beginning and was fine with it then, but now, it’s different. I need that label to make me feel better.
“My boyfriend. I’m your girlfriend,” I tell him. He sighs, his chest rising and falling slowly.
