A.W.: Both.
My cheeks heat. He was genuinely upset, and that means what? That he really cared to see me? I don’t like miscommunication, and I’m not the kind of girl to let things sit while I conjure up ten million different meanings. I’m very straightforward and that’s eliminated a lot of friends in my life. But I know Aidan won’t mind.
Ivy: You really want to see me that bad?
A.W.: Yeah, I really do.
Ivy: Why?
A.W.: Because I’ve been thinking about you every day for three weeks.
I shakily set the phone down and take a few deep breaths. Then I stand under the spray and think on his words for minutes on end. That sick feeling of panic twists at the pit of me, but I’m so intrigued by him. His words have turned me into mush.
I’m conflicted.
I hear another chime, but I can’t bring myself to see it. After a few more minutes another chime sounds too. I lean over the phone and turn it off. If I can’t hear it, it’s not really there. My fingers tingle to turn it back on, but I refrain and continue shaving.
I can’t deny the bubble of excitement I feel that he’s sought me out like this. It makes the fight with Derek dull into the background like it didn’t even exist. Am I just on a high? I breathe deeply and shake off the feeling that he feels like we’ve connected too. For all I know he reached out to seek a booty call.
As if. My brain scolds. This man is walking sex. He’s loaded, successful, and judging from his ego, he’s had a bevy of women in his bed.
After I shave, I stand under the water until it gets cold, thinking of him. I step out and get ready for a night buried in my books. Derek doesn’t come home for hours, and I fall asleep on the couch wondering if he’s fucking another girl.
I need to get out of here are my last thoughts.
*
When warm fingers entwine with mine, I open my eyes and stare into the darkness. I can smell Derek’s scent mixed with whiskey, and disappointment spreads through me. He’s kneeling beside the couch, his face inches from mine, and he looks sullen.
“Ivy?” whispers Derek. “Are you awake, darling?”
“Yeah,” I whisper back, bracing myself for another round of arguing.
He exhales slowly. “I’m a dick. I’m such a fucking dick, Ivy. You were right about everything. I shouldn’t have been picking a fight with you. I don’t know what came over me.”
Ah, he’s drunk and he’s apologizing. Those go hand in hand after a fight. I shrug. This is the norm, but it still makes my chest squeeze. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. I love you. We’ve been… so distant lately. Distracted, you know? And I want us to work so much. I don’t want us to become strangers.”
I don’t know how to tell him we already are. So, I keep my mouth shut as he continues to tear my heart apart with the desperation in his voice. I hate when he’s vulnerable because it reminds me so much of who he used to be in the beginning.
“I hate the things I say. I hate how angry I feel. I hate how destructive we are, but I know we love each other too much to watch our relationship crumble. I think we need to focus on making this work, yeah? I know I said this already, but I’ll stop playing the video games, and I’ll quit drinking, and I’ll take you out. We’ll do shit around here. How does that sound?”
Like a robot, I answer, “Yeah, that sounds good.”
I’m dubious, of course, but that voice of his always tugs on my heart strings.
“I know I’ve hurt you,” he continues, his voice straining with pain. “And I’m so sorry for it. I was always drunk and acting out. It’s no excuse, I know that, but I promise you things will be different. I’ll never look at another girl again. You can take my word for it. It was a mistake, darling. A stupid, stupid mistake. We grieved differently, and my way was wrong. I’m so sorry. It’ll never happen again. I’ll spend my whole life making it up to you. I just want you to take me back and for things to be normal again. That’s all I want, Ivy.”
I want to believe him. I really do. But at this point, whether he’s telling me the truth or not, I don’t feel anything at all.
“I don’t want you to leave me.”
Does he sense that I want to flee again?
“Please don’t. Please tell me we’re still together. That you came here for me.”
I don’t respond to that.
Instead, I whisper, “Everything is different, Derek.”
“Don’t say that. It isn’t, darling.”
He wraps an arm around my waist and brings me closer to the edge of the couch, so I’m pressed against his front. I wish I could shake this dead feeling inside of me and be affected by his touch, but it doesn’t happen. As always, I feel empty. He’s holding a void and he doesn’t even know it. He holds me for a few minutes before his hand drifts down my front, getting lower and lower.
“Derek,” I say, just as he touches my core, “I can’t.”
I wish I had that desire for him, but it’s dead. I’m too hurt. I know the only way to go forward with him is to let go and “heal” like Mother says I should do. And I know not putting out is starting to get to him. But I just can’t. The idea of intimacy with Derek makes me want to coil
