Chapter Twenty Four The Bullshit
Chapter Twenty Four
The Bullshit
M
y room doesn’t even feel like mine anymore—it feels like ours. And it’s wild how easily it all happened. His socks on the floor, his hoodie draped over my chair, his keys dropped wherever he feels like leaving them… it should bother me, but it doesn’t.
Not really.
It’s just proof that he’s here, that I’m not waking up alone anymore. The furniture’s shifted, the vibe’s shifted—everything has—but somehow, I’ve learned to accept it.
At first, I told myself letting go of my clean, minimal aesthetic was growth. Maturity. Whatever makes it easier to share a space with someone I love.
But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the calm my room used to give me. The brightness. The order.
Now it’s a mix of my softness and his lived-in energy.
Sometimes it feels like a lot—the way his presence spills into every corner of the house without trying. But the second I hear that laugh or breathe in that scent?
It softens everything.
It reminds me why I said yes to all of this in the first place.
And that’s the part that gets me. For all the mess and all the change, having him beside me feels more like home than the silence ever did. Comfort has a way of blurring out clarity, and maybe that’s what’s happening here.
My doubts haven’t disappeared—they’ve just folded themselves beneath the he loves me.
Waking up next to Levy every morning still feels like my favorite part of the day. It’s been two months since he moved in, and it’s been really, really good.
Most of the time.
When he’s not on night shift, he’s FaceTiming me on his breaks—checking in, joking around, smiling at me like I’m the only thing keeping him sane.
It feels sweet… even if there are moments where it edges a little past sweet.
But that’s love is… right? Wanting to be close all the time?
So I try not to overthink it. We cook together, sneak in little dates, play pretend like we’ve already mastered the whole “grown couple” thing.
But lately, something’s… shifting. Whenever we’re out, the check somehow drifts to me. And yeah, I end up paying it.
Every time.
I try to tell myself it’s not a big deal—that relationships are give-and-take, that I’m just doing my part.
But sometimes, being the one who’s doing all the giving starts to feel heavy, especially when I’m the one not working right now.
He forgets that part—not on purpose, I don’t think. Just… comfortably.
When he first moved in, we made a plan. He’ll cover the daily stuff, while I keep paying my half of the rent.
Simple. Something I thought we both felt good about.
But as month three rolls in, suddenly fair, is starting to look a little lopsided.
I’ve been picking up pieces that aren’t suppose to be mine, telling myself it’s fine, that it’s just a phase.
Sometimes it feels like he’s changing. Or maybe he’s just settling into us, into me, in ways I didn’t expect.
I love him—but love doesn’t excuse everything. Living together is suppose to mean effort on both sides. Not just consistent sex, and definitely not me stretching myself thin because I’m too wrapped up in him to say anything yet.
Maybe I am naive—this is the my first time actually living with a man—but I’m pretty sure bare-minimum wasn’t part of the deal.
? ? ?
It’s Saturday night, but instead of Arina and me running the streets like we used to, Levy and I settle on a date night.
The kind of thing that should feel romantic.
And it does—mostly. But there’s this thread of tension between us lately, tugging at the edges of everything, mostly because my wallet has been stepping up more than his, and my brain refuses to ignore it.
Trying to quiet the thoughts spinning in my head, I head to my side of the closet.
If nothing else, I can control what I wear and how I look.
I slide into a pair of ripped blue jeans, the frayed edges grazing my thighs, showing just enough of the tattoo beneath.
Then a baby-blue crop top—soft, fitted, hugging me like it was made for my body alone.
When I step into my sandals, I glance back at Levy.
He’s spread out across my bed like he owns the place—one arm behind his head, eyes following every move I make.
His eyes track me with a lazy warmth, something soft and heated all at once, like watching me get dressed is just the trailer for whatever’s in his head.
“I think we’ve got a few minutes before the reservation,” he murmurs, glancing at his phone before tossing it aside.
Of course we do.
Usually, that low tone would make every doubt fade out, but tonight they cling to me anyway. Still, when he looks at me like that, it’s hard not to soften.
He pushes off the bed and closes the space between us, his hands settling on my hips with a warm, steady confidence that melts me without effort.
His breath ghosts over my neck before his lips follow, leaving a trail of heat down the side of my throat.
Each kiss lingering longer than the last, my pulse quickening despite the part of me still tallying dinner costs in the back of my head.
And just like that, I’m caught between wanting him and wanting him to do better. It’s kind of annoying that he has such power over me, but at the same time, my bodies craving it. Every kiss down my neck makes my mind forget the arguments, the doubts, the tension that’s been building between us.
Right now, all I feel is the way he wakes something reckless in me, even as I’m pushing my annoyance down where it won’t ruin the moment.
But my body betrays me, reminding me not to give into the claiming glide of his hands on my ass, while also remembering just how dangerously good it feels to be wanted by him.
I press my hands to his chest and ease him back a little. “Levy, come on… hurry up and get dressed. I don’t want us flying down the highway to make it on time.”
His hands fall from my hips, and he just…
stares at me. Not angry, not irritated—just searching my face like he’s trying to read something I’m not going to show.
His lips part like he wants to speak, but nothing comes out.
Then, without a word, he turns toward the closet and pulls out clothes, moving slower than usual, like he’s still processing the moment.
I sit on the edge of the bed, pulse racing hard enough to hear it in my ears. The room is quiet, but fuck—my mind isn’t.
I can’t believe I just told him no.
There’s a part of me that wants to call him back, to let him touch me, to fall right into the heat that always pulls us together.
My body was right there, responding like it always does when he’s close.
But the rest of me—the part carrying all the weight—is tired.
I don’t have it in me, not after everything that’s been building between us.
I know he’s not rich. I don’t need him to be.
I’m not asking for luxury or grand gestures.
Hell, I’m not even expecting him to cover every bill.
But I would like to see some fucking effort.
I want a partnership. I want to feel like we’re building something together—not like I’m holding things up on my own.
I’ve been stepping up more way than I should, hoping he’d notice, hoping he’ll meet me halfway without me having to spell it out.
I don’t need perfection—I just want to feel secure beside him. I want to know that I can lean on him the same way he leans on me. All I know is I can’t do that.
So yeah—my body might’ve been craving him. But my heart isn’t all the way in it right now.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I stare down at the floor, caught somewhere between guilt and confusion—my heart and my pride trying to out-argue each other.
When I finally look up, he’s turning from the closet, fully dressed.
Dark blue jeans that fit him like they were made for him, black Jordans, and a crisp white Polo with the top buttons undone just enough to make it look effortless.
He matched my vibe perfectly. Even though I know this is just him trying to make me smile without even asking what’s wrong.
He doesn’t understand the root of what I’m feeling tonight, but he does know that when we look good together, it softens me.
It always does.
He grabs his keys, and we head out quietly, slipping into his car.
The moment I close the door, that faint trace of his cologne wraps around me.
It smells exactly like it did the first night I met him, that mix of spice and something soft I never learned the name of.
And just like that night, it’s stirring up those stupid butterflies I try to pretend I don’t still get.
The music plays low, a soft beat filling the background while I lean back in the passenger seat, scrolling through my socials.
I don’t feel like making small talk. Not right now.
We’ll have plenty of time to talk once we get to dinner.
For now, it’s easier to let the road and the music fill the space between us—even though I can feel his eyes flick toward me every so often as we get closer to the restaurant.
We pull into the parking lot with a few minutes to spare before our reservation. The glow from the restaurant’s red sign paint the windshield a deep red, the smell of smoked barbecue lingering in the air as people come and go.
I barely reach for the door when his hand finds my thigh, his body leaning across the console, eyes gentle yet unreadable.
“I love you, baby,” he says quietly, voice so convincing it almost pulls me out of my thoughts.
Almost.
Turning toward him, and give him a faint smile. “I love you too,” I say, my voice steady even though my mind’s still replaying everything that led us to this point.
“I know things have been off between us lately,” he says, exhaling like the weight of the world is sitting on his chest. “But I’m really trying here, Jainey. I don’t want you thinking for a second that I’m not doing my part, because I am. I’m trying harder than it may seem.”
“It’s just been hard… I pay for almost everything and it feels like you don’t even see that I’m struggling. You don’t even say anything.” My voice is calmer than I feel, which catches me off guard.
He drops his gaze to his lap, shaking his head slowly. “I know. And I hate that you feel that way.” Work’s just been slow… but honestly, it’s been messing with me, and I don’t want to dump that on you. I don’t want you worrying or… looking at me different.”
A twist inside me pulls me forward. I grab his hand, turning his face toward mine, those blue eyes soft but heavy with guilt.
“It’s okay, babe. I just wish you would’ve told me. We could’ve figured something out instead of me thinking that this is our new normal.”
He nods—slow, careful, like he’s the one afraid of losing something. “You’re right,” he murmurs. “It’s just… embarrassing Jaine. I never been the guy who can’t handle everything on his plate.”
“And having my girl step in, makes me feel like I’m failing both of us—like I’m not the man I’m suppose to be.”
The words land beautifully, painfully—crafted to pull my sympathy.
I exhale a soft laugh, one that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “Yeah, well… welcome to adulthood. It’s ghetto here.”
He gives a small smile, squeezing my hand like he’s the one giving reassurance. “I know. But I promise—I’ll get us back on track. Just … don’t give up on me, okay? I need you baby.”
The way he says need makes it feel like I’m his anchor and his responsibility all at once.
And it works.
He gives me the faintest smile before leaning in, his lips brushing mine in a soft, almost apologetic kiss. It’s sweet, but not strong enough to smooth over everything that still lingers between us. Before he pulls back, his hand squeezes my thigh, then he slips out of the car.
A moment later, he’s at my door, opening it like he always does. A tiny gesture, maybe—but it lands the way it’s supposed to. It’s his unspoken—See? I’m showing up. I’m doing this right.
I step out and loop my arm through his, matching his effort with a careful smile. Maybe this is what love looks like sometimes—messy in the corners, uneven in the middle, but still choosing to show up anyway.
But the thought I can’t shake hums low in my chest—trying isn’t suppose to feel this hard.