Chapter 29 Reassurance #2
Okay? What does that mean? Okay, we're still together? Okay, I don't give a fuck? Okay, shut up? Okay, go fuck yourself? It's probably a mix of all of them.
"Look at me," I nearly plead. She closes her eyes and takes a calming breath. She turns and looks up at me with those eyes.
"I don't even want to hear it," her voice breaks a small bit a the end and she raises her hand to me.
"I'll never do that ever again," I promise. I can't go through this shit again. I got no sleep, even Bear's got a fucking attitude with me.
I place my hand on the side of her hip, taking a step closer to her. She grasps my head and pulls it off.
"You won't," she agrees and my eyebrows furrow in the least bit.
"It's not even been a day Grey, I'm not forgiving you or taking you back," she shakes her head and I feel like I've been stabbed.
What?
"L-Like," I stutter like a fucking idiot, "ever?"
My chest constricts in fear. Full-fledged fucking fear.
"Fuck, I'm sorry Azalea. Please don't say you're not taking me back. I'm never doing that again, I promise, I'm sorry," I shake my head. I'll get on my knees and I'll fucking beg for her to take me back. Beg.
I once had said that I'd never beg for anything. Not even my life if it came to it. But that shit's out the fucking window when it comes to her. I'd beg all day for her.
"I should never have even thought about talking to you the way I did, I'm sorry," I tell her.
"Not even twenty-four hours Grey. It can't be enough time for you to do what I said," she steps away.
"What do you mean, do what you said?" I 've been thinking too much about what I could have done differently and not about everything that she said.
"Figure. Yourself. Out," she speaks slowly, "figure out ways to be able to talk to me.
You're not alone anymore and you get that physically, but not mentally.
I need you to open up to me, Grey, and I know it's hard but I can't do this if you're not going to be there with me emotionally.
I'm here for you. I don't judge you and I can listen to all of your problems, but you just don't tell me anything. "
She might as well be speaking Latin. Some things make sense, some don't. I don't know how to do this. I've never had anyone I've been able to tell everything to. Never.
"You still love me?" I mumble admittedly vulnerably. Please still love me.
"I can't stop loving you overnight," she sighs. I don't know that.
"Where are you staying?" I question. Aaron's?
"Mr. Terrip's couch," she mumbles. I breathe out a breath of relief. But even that's not where she should be. She once told me how he's got a one-bedroom apartment and the most uncomfortable couch that was ever made.
"Come home with me," I grip her side, and pull her just a bit closer to me. She's too far.
"Grey," she starts, "we're not together, I can't live with you. And respect my space, no touching."
I pull my hand off her side, and hold it behind my back. I think it has a mind of its own.
How long is this going to last? How long does it take for someone to 'figure themselves out?' I don't even think I know what that means. I almost reach out to pull her closer and I grab for the scrunchie that usually sits on my hand but it's not there.
God-fucking-dammit.
I hate what I'm about to say.
"Come home. I'll take the couch," I tell her, looking down at the dark blue carpeted floor, "don't stay on his couch. I won't bother you. Just, please come home."
She visibly hesitates. I can't live without her and I can't live without her.
"I don't think it's a good idea," she shakes her head.
"Please Azalea," I need to see her every day. Ideally right when I wake up and when I go to bed. And all the in-between.
"Friends only."
My heart falls to the fucking floor. Friends? Just like nothing happened? Like she never told me she loved me, like we never made out in the back of this place, like we never stayed up together watching anything she'd want to, like we never touched each other in places only we're allowed to?
I can't fucking go back to that. I don't think it's possible.
But it's whatever she wants. It came from my doings.
"Azalea," I start but she holds her hand up.
"Deal or no deal."
I'd rather have her in my life than not at all.
~~~
I watch in on her as she walks back into our, more like her, room now.
It was only a few minutes ago that the thought of me being actually single hit me. I wouldn't call myself single though. It's not like I'd fuck anyone else. I'm single but not single.
The show she likes called it a 'break'.
But on that break one of them slept with someone else, whichever the fuck one it was. I can't stand the thought of being with someone else romantically. Let alone letting another woman lay her fucking hands on me.
No matter what, no matter how long we're 'friends' I know it'll never feel right. It'll always feel wrong.
I've gone as far as looking up what 'figuring oneself out' meant. It's taken two days to understand that she doesn't want me to change, she wants the way I hold in my emotions and feelings, and ways I release them to be pushed in a different direction; towards something, not someone.
I've been alone my whole life. Mom died hardly any time after I was born and dad never had shit to do with me, making me fend for myself.
I heard once from him though that he and mom ran away from their parents when they were eighteen.
She was pregnant, they were kicked out, so they ran, not knowing where they'd end up.
And that no one deserves anything in life and that life equals hell.
On a night he had unexpectedly come home drunk, the night of my fifteenth birthday actually, he talked to me more than he ever had.
It wasn't about me. It was about mom.
I never had anyone to talk to about me. No family. In high school, people tried talking to me but most of them were either scared of me or left me alone because they knew that that was how I liked it to be.
I liked that they were scared of me. I liked that they saw my tattoos, the look on my face, and my height and were scared of me. I didn't have to worry about the dumb ass drama shit that went around.
This one girl got involved with this guy's dad.
The girl was full-on fucking her boyfriend's dad.
On top of that, her boyfriend was seen with her younger sister, who was a goddamn freshman.
Then, the freshman sister was also seen getting too close with the older sister's boyfriend's best friend, who was dating this other girl that ended up fighting both the freshman girl and her sister.
The whole thing was a fucking shit show. But I sat the fuck back with metaphorical popcorn and watched it all unravel.
I never wanted friends. I was content with myself.
And then I was content with just me and Lilah. Now it's me again. And I'm not fucking content.
An idea pops into my head and It's something I've never even thought of doing before but something I know she'd love.
She fucking loves flowers. Like, loves them. I could do that. The ones we have already she said need to be moved somewhere to get more sunlight anyway.
Who the fuck knew she was a botanist or whatever the fuck it's called.
I arrive at the closest store I know that has flowers and I make it to the aisle that smells like someone's grandma.
I recall the time she and I came here for the flowers the first time. It took nearly fifteen fucking minutes for her to pick out two sets of flowers.
The ones she had really wanted weren't 'bloomed' enough or whatever the fuck she said. I look at the lilies, as she called them, and see that they look different than the time we were here.
The flowers now have more actual...flowers or whatever. Blooms or some shit. I'm not fucking good at this.
Half the time I was watching her and the other half I was wandering back and forth down the aisle waiting for her to finish. She wouldn't let me leave the aisle too afraid she 'lose' me.
I pick up the lilies, pay, and go back home.
She sees me as I walk in and I silently thank God when I see those eyes of hers light up when she sees me. Or maybe it's just the flowers, I don't know.
"I'm still sorry," I remind her, watching her closely as she takes the flowers and bites her lip as she admires them.
I want that fucking lip.
I have zero self-control. Zero. I'm going insane. This is the worst punishment I could ever get. Living with her, seeing her looking so fucking beautiful every second and not being able to touch her in ways I want to.
In ways I know she loves.
But she's right. I can't treat her like I did and I need to figure it out. But I need to do it fucking fast because I can't stay away from her much longer.
"You got these for me?" her voice raises an octave. I only give her a nod, never taking my eyes off her. She returns her gaze to me and gives me a sweet smile, her straight, pearly whites showing themselves.
Every time I look at her I want to kiss her. Did I kiss her at least twice a minute before? I need to now. Or, not now, after she takes me back. God, I hope it's soon.
"Thank you," she bites that fucking lip again and I get a headache. I lean my forehead against the nearest wall and curse.
"What's wrong?" she questions softly. I pull my head back and look at her again. Even after hating the fuck out of me for being a shitty person to her, she's still concerned about me. Still.
God, I fucking love her. What?
"Baby, I want you. I want you," I'm fucking desperate, clingy, pitiful, everything but I don't give a single shit.
Not only the physical touches we give each other but I want her talking to me too. She's hardly said much of anything to me. We were done cold turkey. I want her voice.
I don't understand how I used to be annoyed at how much she talked and how often she asked me questions about anything and everything. Now I don't want her to ever stop talking to me.
I think I'm an attention whore.
Always wanting her touch, always wanting her looking at me, always wanting her talking to me, I'm a full-on attention whore for her.
Because I'm 100% madly in love with her. And I fucking love it.
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A few of y'all are already on Thursday, but I promise it is still Wednesday where I am.
Thank you for reading! I've been having multiple issues around me lately and ideas aren't coming to me as well but I'll try hard for you guys to get the next chapter up soon!
*Not edited*
Word count: 3886
-Ashlyn M.