Chapter 6 Steven
STEVEN
What the hell is going on with this woman?
It’s almost impossible for me to wrap my head around anything she does or says.
It’s so back and forth.
Just when I think we are having a good moment, she switches up on me and runs away.
I’m getting whiplash.
One minute, she is laughing and flirting with me, and the next, she is running off with no explanation.
And that kiss … what the hell does that mean?
I’m getting too old for the games.
I need to know what her intentions are, what she wants from me.
Especially before I put my all in again, only for her to disappear on me.
I’m not sure I can handle that happening a second time.
Sitting here trying to make sense of it all is pointless and isn’t helping my case at all.
I need to see her, I need to ask her, and I need to make her give me some clear answers.
I want to go to her house, but I’m afraid of stepping on toes or running into Russell.
I won’t have a good excuse as to why I’m there on a random Sunday evening.
Instead, I grab my cell phone and begin typing a text message to send to her.
Steven: Hey, I think we really need to talk. Can you either come to my place, or I can come there if it’s more convenient for you.
After hitting send, I sit back against the couch and hope that she replies.
I’m not sure I can go much longer without an explanation. I’m owed that much.
Besides, with this message, I don’t give her an option to make up an excuse to say no.
If we are going to be in each other’s lives, even with work, we need to get over this hurdle so we can move forward … So I can make sense of everything.
My phone goes off almost immediately, buzzing against the cushion directly next to me, and I lunge forward to read what she says.
Becca: I’ll come to you. There’s some company over here tonight. Address?
“Okay. This is happening … It’s okay,” I say out loud, trying to convince myself not to freak out as I text back with my address.
Becca’s never been to my new place, and while I’m excited to see her alone, I’m nervous.
I’m nothing like Cam when it comes to the ladies.
And while I’ve already been with Becca, I don’t want to lose her again or screw this all up.
And besides, five years is a long time to be out of commission.
People change in a shorter time than that.
Maybe I’m not what she’s into anymore …
For the last four years, I’ve put my all into my career.
Now, all I have to show for it is objects.
I want someone to share my life with, my accomplishments …
Do I even know how to flirt anymore?
My thoughts are all over the place, and I can feel the sweat starting to form on my face.
The nervousness also comes with the thought of having to confront her.
I need answers, but it’s not going to be easy.
She’s a very private person, so getting her to tell me anything that she isn’t comfortable talking about is going to be like pulling teeth.
I can feel myself starting to spiral, and I take a few deep breaths to calm myself down.
“You just need a distraction,” I say as I stand up from the couch.
With a quick pace, I go through my living room and kitchen, picking up any trash I find and putting dishes into the dishwasher.
Grabbing the box of matches from my junk drawer, I light a few candles I picked up from the store a few weeks back.
They are mahogany wood scented, which is my favorite and only comes around during the holiday season, so I like to stock up when given the chance.
One sits on my granite countertop, and I walk the other one out to my coffee table.
My attention is caught by the loud breaking news alert that comes across the news channel as I enter the living room.
Setting the candle down, I take a seat on the couch to watch the report.
“You can see here that the storm is blowing down across Lake Superior and even hits a bit of Lake Michigan before it completely covers the entire state.” The newswoman begins pointing to the storm.
“It will hit Grand Rapids by tonight, making traveling nearly impossible. Get prepared to be snowed in.”
As I listen to the report, part of me wants to text Becca back and tell her not to come tonight, but I really want to speak to her.
If we make this quick, she should be able to get home before the storm even starts.
I decide not to say anything as I don’t want to mess this all up, and I may not get another chance like this.
Jumping up, I rush around my house, continuing to tidy before she shows up.
There’s a knock on my door that makes me jump. She’s here …
Taking a much-needed breath in, allowing it to fill my lungs, I exhale and check my hair in the mirror before opening the front door.
“Hey, did you find it okay?” I ask with a smile, trying my best to hide the fact that I’m seemingly out of breath.
Becca’s large blue eyes gleam as she smiles back at me. “Yeah. It was easy to find. It’s beautiful, by the way.”
“Thanks,” I laugh nervously. “I’ve been doing pretty good for myself.”
Immediately, I shudder with embarrassment as she steps inside, and I turn to close the door.
God, could you sound more pretentious?
Clearing my throat, I take her coat for her before inviting her in. “Do you want water, or I have some scotch in the cupboard. May need it.”
I let out a laugh, but she remains stone-faced as I walk over to the glass-doored cabinet that holds the bottles of amber liquid.
“No thanks,” she declines, taking a seat on the couch.
Nodding, I set the glasses down, not feeling up for it anymore.
Walking over, I take the seat on the couch next to her, and the nerves sink into my stomach.
I feel nauseous.
The silence is deafening as I try to muster up something to say to her.
Before, I had this all laid out.
What I was going to say, how I would respond, depending on her response.
Now … nothing.
The crackling of my fireplace is the only noise as she nervously puts her hands together between her knees.
That is, until the weather comes back on, giving the same speech I heard moments prior to her showing up.
“That’s right, Scott,” the woman on the news says. “It seems that the storm will last all night, but by the morning, the conditions should be travelable. Make plans to stay home.”
It’s as if the news is trying to put a damper on the night.
Becca’s straight face twists as she stares up at the radar that is now plastered on the news.
“Do you think it’s going to start soon?” Becca comments with worry in her eyes.
“No, they said later tonight. But if it makes you feel better, we can make this quick so you can get back home.”
“Yes, please,” she answers too quickly. “So, what did you want to talk about?”
I filter through my brain, trying to find the right way to approach this, but instead, my mouth opens and I blurt it out. “What’s been going on between us?”
Becca stares at me blankly, staying silent.
“I need answers,” I continue.
It all falls out like word vomit that I can’t control. “And on that note, why did you leave me high and dry all those years ago? I mean … I still feel the same way about you I did five years ago. I just need to understand … And please. No more games.”
Once I stop speaking, I immediately regret my approach.
Why can’t I do anything calmly?
I wouldn’t be surprised if she walks out of my house and never speaks to me again.
Although maybe this is the right approach with her.
Being soft and tiptoeing hasn’t gotten me very far before when trying to get her to talk.
She gets that stubbornness from her father’s side, no doubt.
Back in college, he was the same way.
Even with the professors when he knew that they graded him unfairly.
He wouldn’t back down until they caved.
Impressive to see from him, but right now, it’s utterly frustrating.
I can see her trying to process everything I’m throwing at her, but to my defense, I’ve had five years of nothing but time to think about every possible reason she left me.
My brain is my own worst enemy …
She opens her mouth, and I lean forward, wanting to focus on everything she says or how she acts.
But instead of speaking, she lunges forward and kisses me.
Her body now lies on top of mine as the momentum throws me back into the couch.
My hands rush into her soft, lilac-scented hair as hers rest on my chest.
Her legs straddle my hips, and I have no willpower to make her stop … I don’t want her to.
I wanted her to answer my questions, but I’ll take anything she wants to give me.
If it means I can feel that connection I’ve craved for years with her again, I guess I’ll take it.