9 #2
He pressed a kiss to my flushed cheek, brushing loose strands behind my ear. “Hey, grouchy.” I could only scoff. He pressed his forehead to mine, whispering: “Can I take your clothes off?"
"No."
I retreated before I fell prey to everything he was at the moment: hair tousled, feet bare, sweats and an old t-shirt.
My shirt. Vintage Pink Floyd. He always stole my shit and wore it like he owned it, which was starting to piss me off.
I wondered if he’d put on anything of mine after sleeping with her.
Nauseated, I backed against the door and rested my head.
"Y'know...” I began. “It's not even the fact that you hooked up with her that bothers me. You know that.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s all the other weird shit. The lies. The silence. The distance. It's that you hadn’t bothered to reach out for days, then hooked up with her. Mate...fuck her and fuck you. Who even is she?"
"No one, Rafe. And we didn't even hook up. I hung with her for a bit because you were still pissed at me, remember?" He tossed his hands up. "I was tired of bein’ alone."
"I wasn't pissed for three days straight, idiot. You should’ve reached out."
"I reached out in Thailand, didn't I? You blew me off. And now you come bargin’ in, still pissed. Bein’ rude to me family."
"It's Alan. He's practically one of uz."
"Doesn't matter." He fiddled with his thumbnail. After some time, he said: "I didn't sleep with her, alright?"
"You looked like you wanted to. You were holding her hand. How do I know you didn't?"
"Because I'm tellin’ you, Rafe, to your face that I didn’t."
"Not good enough."
"So…that's it, then? You just don't trust me anymore?"
That made my stomach knot. So did the open, pleading look in his eyes. The somnolent squint. The darkening circles. He looked as exhausted by it all as I was. I wanted us to be good again. Things were eerie and tense lately.
"Not so much anymore, Rome. How can I? Trust is hard for us…and getting harder."
"You're fuckin’ nuts, mate."
"Yeah, you keep telling me that."
"Because you are! I'm sittin' here, tellin' you exactly what happened, and you're just so fuckin’ caught up in makin’ shit up in your own head, you're not even listenin’!"
He rubbed his hands down his face with a growl. It was always left for me to regret acknowledging things were changing. That things were broken. To be overwhelmed with guilt for daring to challenge him. Only his stress mattered, it seemed.
"Look...” I said, quietly. “You know I'm not even like that. Like ever. I know how this whole thing works. I know my place in everything. And you know I never fucking ask you where you've been...or even feel the need to know who you’re with. I’d rather not. But everything’s starting to feel really fucked lately…
in ways I can’t explain.” I briefly shut my eyes.
“I can’t even think straight. It’s like I don’t know who you are anymore—”
“What?”
“Seriously. The thought that you’d rather be with a total fucking stranger over me…
some gross chick you just met, when I’m right there…
it hurts. It really fucking hurts, Rome.
You always overlook me the second you’re pissed.
I thought you'd come after me, and I waited for days…
but you didn't. You never do. It always has to be me who runs to you… "
"I can't read you anymore, Rafe. Seriously, man.
One minute you're up, the next minute you're down.
One minute you wanna talk, the next minute you won't listen to anythin' I have to say. I don’t understand what you want from me, bro. Huh? Some days you wanna mess around, some days you act like you can’t fucking stand me anymore—"
"Ever fucking notice it's when you've been with her?! Is it that hard to put two and two together? What the fuck do you expect? I can't be around you after! It fucks with my head! I don’t want her fucking leftovers. To fucking smell her all over you! You don’t even try to fucking hide it. So when I know you’ve been with her, I keep away. That’s just the fucking way it is. "
"You never tell me this stuff," he relented. “I just think you’re pissed at me all the time for no reason. Like I can’t do anything right. Some days I’d swear you hate my fucking guts, man. You don’t tell me all this.”
"Why should I? And make myself look like an even bigger bitch than I already do? M’not trying to be anyone's bitch, mate. I'm too good for that."
"Of fucking course you are.” He lay back across the bed. "C'mere…"
"No, I'm alright here."
"Please, baby..."
There was promise in his voice. Capitulation even, so I went.
In a split second he sat up, wrapping his arms around my waist. He breathed onto my belly and my lids fluttered shut.
I couldn’t resist running my fingers through his inky hair, wringing it around my fingers when he kissed my navel.
He lay back and pulled me atop. I settled on his chest, inhaling his soap and Old Spice deodorant.