Chapter 24 Consequence #2
Once inside, I looked at my disheveled state. Swollen lips, pale complexion, messed up hair, and sunken eyes. Not to mention the oversized Batman t-shirt and slickness sliding down my thighs.
Christ, my first climax in years, and it’s from a little dry humping. How fucking embarrassing.
Elliot was still on the bed when I walked out of the bathroom. He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, palms covering his eyes.
“So…” I started.
He didn’t move, or flinch. He just sat there, quietly.
“You gonna sit there in silence all day, or…?”
Still nothing.
I shifted my weight, arms crossed against the ache in my chest. “Look, I don’t know why I started shaking like that. It just—happened. But if you want to try again, we could—”
“I can’t.” His voice was quiet. “I’m sorry.”
“What?” I blinked, caught off guard. “I don’t understand.”
“I shouldn’t have let it go that far. That’s on me. I’m so sorry, Ellie.”
A long pause settled between us, and my fingers tore into the flesh of my forearms as I hugged myself closer.
“You know. I’m not some fragile thing that’s gonna break, El.”
“I know that,” he said softly.
“Then what is it? What’s the problem?”
He looked up at me then, and the tenderness in his eyes nearly undid me.
“The problem is… every time I touch you, you look like you’re about to cry,” he said. “You look at me and I see pure fear. Your whole body pulls away like you’re bracing for something bad to happen.”
I swallowed hard, my gaze drifting.
“I don’t even know I’m doing it,” I admitted. “ I couldn’t stop it if I wanted to. Maybe it’s a trauma response. Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since I’ve been intimate with someone like that. I don’t know. But coddling me isn’t helping.”
“I’m not coddling you.”
“You are.”
“No,” he said firmly. “I’m trying to make sure we don’t bulldoze through something that clearly needs more time.”
I turned away, digging through my drawer for clothes. It was time for me to leave.
“I want this to be right, Ellie,” he continued gently. “I want us to work. And if slowing down is what makes that possible. If giving you the space to feel safe again until we figure out why you react like this is what you need, then I think it’s worth waiting for.”
I paused, glancing at him through the mirror.
Huh.
“Right,” I said, my voice flat. “I forgot only your opinion matters in this. Fuck what I want.”
El didn’t flinch. “You’re trying to rush the process, E. We just got to the point where you let me hold you without flinching. I’m not going to push you past what you’re ready for just because you feel like being reckless. Shit like this makes you have an unhealthy relationship with sex, Elliot.”
“You asked me if I wanted this not even an hour ago!” I snapped turning to face him.
“That was before I realized how serious it was,” he said, standing now. “Last night, I thought it was the alcohol. But today? You were shaking the second I got on top of you. Is that how you think I should let this happen? That’s the kind of man you think I am, Ellie?”
I stared at him, swallowing everything I wanted to say but couldn’t.
“I should go,” I murmured as I finished getting dressed.
“No, E. Come on. We should talk about it some more—”
“Why?” I cut in. “Your mind’s made up. And I’m not gonna beg you to fuck me, so what’s the point?”
“Ellie—”
“I need to go home. I have to get to work.”
“Can we talk more later, then? Tonight?”
I nodded once. “Yeah.”
“I’m sorry, Ellie.”
I didn’t respond. I just grabbed my things and left, quietly calling for an Uber.
I wasn’t mad at him—not really. I was mad at myself. Mad at this body that still remembered things I’d spent years trying to forget. This body that tightened up and tensed when it should’ve softened. That refused to let me be touched without flinching.
I wanted to move on. God, more than anything. I wanted to let go of the weight I didn’t ask to carry. I wanted to kiss him and not feel my pulse spike. I wanted to lie beneath him without bracing myself. I wanted to want it—and not just in my mind, but in my skin, too. In my bones.
Because I did want him. And he was so patient, and so careful with me. But I hated that I needed that patience in the first place. Hated that I couldn’t just be normal. That I couldn’t just say yes and mean it without my body betraying me. I was tired.
Tired of being haunted.
Tired of how slow healing was.
Tired of El looking at me like I was always just one breath away from shattering.
I didn’t want to be handled—I wanted to be wanted. Desired. Taken apart in the best ways, not just pieced back together. I wanted the freedom to enjoy being touched. To feel safe in his hands and in my own skin. I wanted to choose intimacy without fear sneaking in uninvited.
When the ride arrived, I sunk into the backseat, letting the tears stream freely but quietly.
?
After an hour of crying to Mariah the Scientist in the shower, then another thirty minutes of a mini crash-out over Elliot confiscating my flask, I finally made it to EL’evations.
My head was pounding, eyes still puffy, but I’d pulled it together enough to walk through the door like I had a handle on life.
I didn’t, but like Ma always said appearances mattered.
Hope was already on edge, phone clutched in one hand, those sharp-ass acrylics tapping against the screen like they had a grudge. Her eyes snapped to me the second I walked in.
“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” she muttered.
I slipped past her without looking directly at her and dropped my bag at my station. “I’m not even late.”
She acted like she didn’t hear me. “So? Did you talk to him?”
“El?” I asked, mostly to buy time—even though we both knew damn well who she meant.
She rolled her eyes hard. “Yes, Elliot.”
I started sorting through my supplies, letting the busywork distract me from the tightness in my chest. “Yeah. I did.”
“And?”
And I have feelings for him. And I kissed him. And I almost had sex with him. Twice.
“And nothing. He said he’s not interested.”
“Not interested?” she scoffed, laughing bitterly. “And why the hell not?”
I didn’t answer. Not because I couldn’t. I had answers. Plenty. But I was too damn tired to try and convince Hope of something she never wanted to hear. When someone didn’t respect a no, there was no answer that would ever feel satisfying.
“Because he wants someone young with her own shit and a fat ass. Not some old woman living in her daddy’s house.” Esther added, not looking up from her client’s hand.
My eyes snapped to her. “Esther.”
Hope turned like she was ready for war. “No one is talking to you, bitch.”
Esther dropped the client’s hand and stood slowly. “What did you just call me?”
“Hey, hey,” I cut in, stepping between them. “None of that. Not in the salon.”
The tension didn’t move right away, but Esther exhaled through her nose and sat back down. “Get your friend, E,” she said, shaking her head.
I nodded, then turned to Hope. “Let’s talk outside.”
She huffed and stormed out without another word, and I followed her to the back alley, the late morning heat already sticking to the back of my neck. I crossed my arms and waited for her tantrum to start.
She didn’t disappoint.
“What’s going on? What’s your problem?”
“My problem?” she snapped. “You were supposed to put me on with Elliot. Did you even try?”
I closed my eyes, massaging my temples like that would do something. “I did.”
“And?”
“He’s just not interested, Hope.”
“Why?!”
“Can you calm down? It’s not that serious. You can meet other guys—”
“What exactly did he say, Ellie?”
I hesitated, knowing the real reason would only bruise her ego worse. “He said… because we’re friends, he wouldn’t do that. It’s about respect.”
She rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might stick. “That’s so stupid.”
“It’s his decision.”
“We ain’t even that close,” she muttered under her breath.
Wow. That one landed but I didn’t respond.
She looked me up and down with disdain as if I had something to do with it.
“Whatever. His loss. I can find better.”
No one is better than El, I thought immediately. But I kept my mouth shut as it seems she was looking for a fight and I was not in the mood. My heart already felt like it had been wrung out and left in the sun to dry so the quicker we stopped talking about Elliot Greene, the better.
Hope turned on her heel and stalked down the alley.
“You coming ba—”
“No!” she called over her shoulder, not bothering to look back.