losing myself here, in some little fantasy world. But it really happened like that. I can look back and see that he was dying to get it across to me that he was already in love with me--long before we hooked up.
My hands went up instinctively between us, and pushed as I pried my lips loose. “Back off, Chaos.”
The intensity was getting to me. I hadn’t had a chance to examine what was going on. Or fall back to the realization that I’d had a crush on his broody bad ass for as far as I could remember.
I guess my reaction flipped a switch.
Hands up, he backed off all right. He even said, “I was having a little fun. I forgot who I was dealing with.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yeah, I was picking the fight, needing some space.
“Exactly what it sounded like.” He wasn’t backing down.
I geared up for a slap in the face. But mostly, I geared up to wrap a shield around my heart. I knew... I just knew ...he was about to hurt me.
“Go ahead, say it.” I dared him, right up in his face.
“You are one fucking hard ass bitch. You never let anyone in.”
I didn’t miss a beat. “I let you in, but I’m sorry about that already.”
He reached out, grabbed me by the shirt, pulled--yeah, it ripped--and he said through gritted teeth, “Maybe I should give you something to really be sorry about?”
We already established that this was my second suicide day in a row. Right?
I said, “Why don’t you, big ass?”
He spun me with that one hand on my shirt, dragged me through the bedroom door and pushed, plopping me backward onto the bed. I never really knew what hit me. I mean, he never hurt me. Just took me by surprise.
Then he climbed up on me, straddled my body. I was hitting at him, I think, a little afraid that my rape dream was coming true. But he didn’t grab my hands or make me stop. He just waited until I got worn out.
Until I let my head fall back and tears come. Until I told him, “I hate you.”
He let me cry. Gaia knows how long he sat on top of me while I did that. A thousand years of floods. A lifetime of men disappointing me.
When the tide finally let up, and I sniffed--my eyes still closed--he said quietly, “I hate you, too.”
That made me look up at him.
He looked sad. Beaten. His shoulders sloped forward. His hands rested on his thighs. And his expression was totally bleak.
That’s when I got it. Everything he’d been trying to show me. Everything we’d been dancing around, and all the things we weren’t looking in the eye.
Well, we looked it in the eye then. But, honestly? I could not bring myself to ask him if he was really saying he loved me, or if he realized that was what I was trying to say to him.
I sniffed, got a clearer vision and asked the obvious question. “So, where do we go from here?”
Strangled, he said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m dying.”
It was a statement about his future, about his present, about everything between us.
“Me too.”
More bleakness filled the gap between us as we searched each other’s face.
He told me, “I don’t wanna be alone anymore,” but he wasn’t looking at my eyes. At my hair, maybe. All around me. Everywhere but my eyes.
I said, “Me either.”
Chaos climbed off of me then, and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, with his gaze nailed to nothing on the floor, rubbing his hands together. I sat up, real close to him and leaned my cheek against his shoulder. I slipped my arm under his, too, and rested my fingers over his.
He told me, “Leer’s going to kill me.”
My head snapped up. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.
Chaos turned his face to mine, looked me in the eye
My hands went up instinctively between us, and pushed as I pried my lips loose. “Back off, Chaos.”
The intensity was getting to me. I hadn’t had a chance to examine what was going on. Or fall back to the realization that I’d had a crush on his broody bad ass for as far as I could remember.
I guess my reaction flipped a switch.
Hands up, he backed off all right. He even said, “I was having a little fun. I forgot who I was dealing with.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yeah, I was picking the fight, needing some space.
“Exactly what it sounded like.” He wasn’t backing down.
I geared up for a slap in the face. But mostly, I geared up to wrap a shield around my heart. I knew... I just knew ...he was about to hurt me.
“Go ahead, say it.” I dared him, right up in his face.
“You are one fucking hard ass bitch. You never let anyone in.”
I didn’t miss a beat. “I let you in, but I’m sorry about that already.”
He reached out, grabbed me by the shirt, pulled--yeah, it ripped--and he said through gritted teeth, “Maybe I should give you something to really be sorry about?”
We already established that this was my second suicide day in a row. Right?
I said, “Why don’t you, big ass?”
He spun me with that one hand on my shirt, dragged me through the bedroom door and pushed, plopping me backward onto the bed. I never really knew what hit me. I mean, he never hurt me. Just took me by surprise.
Then he climbed up on me, straddled my body. I was hitting at him, I think, a little afraid that my rape dream was coming true. But he didn’t grab my hands or make me stop. He just waited until I got worn out.
Until I let my head fall back and tears come. Until I told him, “I hate you.”
He let me cry. Gaia knows how long he sat on top of me while I did that. A thousand years of floods. A lifetime of men disappointing me.
When the tide finally let up, and I sniffed--my eyes still closed--he said quietly, “I hate you, too.”
That made me look up at him.
He looked sad. Beaten. His shoulders sloped forward. His hands rested on his thighs. And his expression was totally bleak.
That’s when I got it. Everything he’d been trying to show me. Everything we’d been dancing around, and all the things we weren’t looking in the eye.
Well, we looked it in the eye then. But, honestly? I could not bring myself to ask him if he was really saying he loved me, or if he realized that was what I was trying to say to him.
I sniffed, got a clearer vision and asked the obvious question. “So, where do we go from here?”
Strangled, he said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m dying.”
It was a statement about his future, about his present, about everything between us.
“Me too.”
More bleakness filled the gap between us as we searched each other’s face.
He told me, “I don’t wanna be alone anymore,” but he wasn’t looking at my eyes. At my hair, maybe. All around me. Everywhere but my eyes.
I said, “Me either.”
Chaos climbed off of me then, and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, with his gaze nailed to nothing on the floor, rubbing his hands together. I sat up, real close to him and leaned my cheek against his shoulder. I slipped my arm under his, too, and rested my fingers over his.
He told me, “Leer’s going to kill me.”
My head snapped up. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.
Chaos turned his face to mine, looked me in the eye
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