Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
“Loverrrrr.” Bri laughed. “Hey at least you didn’t give me your flower or take mine, we could be having that conversation.”
“Please, your flower was probably plucked years before I even met you. You clearly weren’t a virgin and terrified me the first time we slept together.”
I grabbed the popcorn from the cupboard and popped it into the microwave and pressed start.
“Repeat that?” she asked from the couch. “I scared you during sex? Because that’s kind of the message I’m getting here, and it’s not a sexy sex one.”
I leaned against the counter and locked eyes with her. “You don’t remember?”
“Of course I remember!”
“Hitting me in the face with your elbow mid-orgasm? Then pulling my hair out? I woke up with blood on my chest from the talons you call nails.”
She made a face. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“Oh no, it wasn’t bad at all, best sexual experience of my life to date.” Her cheeks burned bright red. “Except for the whole physical injury thing, I had to explain to my boss at work why I had a black eye, told him I ran into the door and was sent to HR that same afternoon to talk about potential abuse at home and the workplace. They said most victims blame objects, not people.”
Bri burst out laughing. “Okay, you never told me you got pulled into HR. And hey, they were just doing their jobs!”
“Bri, I had to come clean and finally tell them that I had really rough sex with my hot girlfriend and things got a little bit crazy but that I had zero regrets and am in a safe space also known as the apartment I share with her.”
Bri grinned. “What did they say?”
The microwave went off; I pulled out the popcorn, shook it, then carefully opened it up so the steam wouldn’t hit me in the face and poured it into a glass bowl and brought it over. “Oh, they still gave me a pamphlet, that one was on burnout and how we tend to fantasize over things in order to deal with stress.”
Bri snorted into her hands. Yes, hilarious. Almost got a cramp from laughing so hard.
I sighed. “Yup, get it out, all the laughter.”
“Why did you never tell me this?” She grabbed a fistful of popcorn and started eating.
I shrugged. “Because I didn’t want…” I sighed and looked away. “Let’s just watch the show.”
She grabbed my arm. “Tell me. We are partners.”
Were, is what I wanted to say. I guess at that point it didn’t really even matter, did it? She was a co-worker, a partner for a stupid game, nothing more, not now at least.
She leaned in closer. “Please?”
“I didn’t want it to end.” The admission hung heavy in the air between us, thick with tension. “I didn’t…” My voice cracked. “I didn’t want you to stop. Ever.”
“Even though I drew blood and gave you a black eye on accident?”
“Even then.” I jerked away and dug into the popcorn. “Happy now?”
She cleared her throat and leaned back. “Yeah. I’m happy.”
That was a clear lie. Her face had paled, and she was suddenly back into poisoning the husband mode.
I don’t know how long we sat there, but I knew we’d made it through at least three episodes before she yawned behind her hand and started getting comfortable on the couch again. “Promise you’ll wake me just in case?”
I’d stay up all night just in case.
Even if she wasn’t ever going to be mine again, she was still precious, so yeah, I would stay up all night, protecting her for someone else, and for a future I wouldn’t be a part of.
That didn’t sound depressing at all.
And yet, I knew I would never take it back, even if it meant the end of the story had me completely written out of it.
Chapter Eight
Bri
“I’ll see you after work,” he said. “Oh, and it’s Taco Tuesday, you better prepare yourself for something epic, I looked up a recipe, you’re ahead of me by one Taco Tuesday night, I refuse to lose.” He leaned down and kissed me across the lips, then frowned. “Everything okay?”
I touched my stomach briefly. “Yeah, um, yeah fine.”
“It might be a late night.” He pulled me into his arms. “I have to go over some things with the team, but I promise I’ll still feed you.”
I rarely saw him as it was. My brain told me he was climbing his way up and trying to make money for our life while I was working at the coffee shop, but my insecurity, that ugly, gross thing that always jumped out when I was feeling off said that he preferred work, that I was a burden, that I’d always be a burden. I mean, he didn’t even want kids right away anymore.
The one thing I could have done right—I somehow failed at too.