Free Inside Out by Grayson Cole

that had arrived in her stomach, she muttered, “He sits in my favorite chair, he eats my food, and now he’s wearing my clothes. He’s getting to be a regular fixture.”
    â€œI heard that,” he called to her in a sing-song voice.
    â€œOf course you did,” Tracey groaned.
    Later that week she waited for him, anxious to see how he had fared on an argument he’d prepared for the past couple of nights. She heard his SUV pull into the drive and opened the door even before he got to the porch. “Hey.” Tracey beamed like an idiot as she opened the door wide to let him in. His lips pulled downward as he headed for her favorite chair and sat down. He closed his eyes and sucked in a long, tired breath. She waited, even holding her own breath, for him to let it go. She went to sit on the arm of the chair beside him but didn’t touch him. She didn’t do anything, just waited. When he was still silent, she rose. “You want something from the kitchen?”
    Without opening his eyes, he nodded. “Water, if you don’t mind.” Tracey went into the kitchen, got a glass and rinsed it out, watching the water splash into the glass and out again, wondering what was bothering him. She put ice in the water, went back into the living room, and handed it to him. She watched him drink deeply.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?”
    â€œNothing.” It was a lie. They both knew it. Standing there, Tracey propped her hands on her hips and waited some more. For someone who was always telling her to “talk about it,” sometimes it was an absolute art getting him to talk about what was on his mind. So she waited. It was all she could do.
    After a prolonged silence his gaze rose again to meet hers and he said, “Me and Kim got into it after my oral argument.”
    â€œYou went to see her after?” The question and hurt were out before she could cut them off.
    â€œNo, Tracey, I didn’t,” he answered. “She was there when I got out. She walks up to me and says she’s got me a gift for finishing my argument and tells me that she and my mom picked it out.”
    â€œYour mom’s in town?” He shook his head at this question.
    â€œNo,” Tracey breathed and put her hand in front of her lips. “She didn’t.”
    â€œShe did. Drove to my parents’ this morning. Says that they went to a bridal boutique.” He finished his water, then stood and walked towards her window. He pulled back the curtain and peered out into the darkness. She wondered briefly if anyone could see him there. He turned to her. “A little pushy, isn’t it?”
    â€œYes.”
    He went over and sat on the sofa, leaned over, head bent into his palms, elbows resting on his knees. Tracey eased down next to him, not knowing how to help. He seemed so upset, so trapped. She was pretty sure he wanted out of the relationship but couldn’t quite figure out how to go about it, especially with the way his family treated this Kim person. Helplessly, Tracey reached out and slid her hand into his soft, brown hair. She didn’t expect him to turn to her. She didn’t expect him to hug her to him so tight she had to catch her breath. She didn’t expect him to press his nose into her neck and stroke her hair. She didn’t expect him to start nibbling at her jugular, and she definitely didn’t expect to lean back and let him. Tracey had the impression that everything was in slow motion. She felt removed from herself with her back braced against the arm of the sofa and the soft insides of her forearms pressing down on his shoulders. Her hands balled into tight fists because she didn’t want to touch him, didn’t want to let him know that she was accepting this. She heard her pulse roaring in her ears, felt his against her skin.
    Garrett moved from her throat to nibble her jaw, then the tip of her chin. His eyelids were lowered as he