Chapter 2 – Stitches
Marcus's POV: Wednesday evening
I always found it to be a weak nervous habit, the amount of pacing Tobias used to do when he was being overly thoughtful, angry or any other type of useless emotion that seemed to suddenly overtake him. His knee jerk reactions seemed a debilitation, in my opinion. However, with the amount of back and forth wandering I've been doing, along with my foul temper, turns out my son is more Eaton than I thought.
I lean my forearm on the floor to ceiling window in my office and look down, focusing on the disgusting waters of the Chicago River as a tourist infested boat makes its way toward the lake. Being high up and looking down at others brings me unfounded joy and could there be a more perfect analogy? It's near shocking to me that my son has a fear of heights that can practically incapacitate him on command.
The ring of my cell phone makes my head jerk back causing a very painful sensation in my neck. It seems a common reaction, as of late, each time an alert shows up on my phone. Pulling it out of my pocket I see a name I had been torturously anticipating—Kim Kang.
Flashback: Saturday evening
Biting my nails. Add it to the list of nervous habits I've been picking up on since I got the phone call from Joseph that his son had been arrested. The kid is so fucked in the head that he was screaming in absurdity and beating his head on the bars. Apparently he got it in his stark raving brain that he killed the girl.
After practically hanging up on Joseph, I sit for a moment pondering my glass of Scotch. It being my third, I suppose it's time to stop. So I hurl it against the wall, trying to dispel my anger in more productive ways. My secretary used to be quite good at diverting my attention. Had her at my beck and call until my ingrate of a son flashed his smile, telling her she's worth more than what I can give her. That super-glued her rather loose legs together.
"Can't even fire the dumb bitch," I grumble. "Sexual harassment bullshit—"
"Oh, it's not bullshit. If used well, it can be quite the trump card!" The all-too-excited voice of Juanita drills holes in my eardrums.
"I would imagine you've mastered the art?"
"Should have used it on your son," she quips waltzing toward my desk.
"Well, we all make mistakes. And I have a feeling, you are one of his."
"Don't make me mad, Marcus. I'm on my way to the hospital!" she emits in delight.
"And why would I give a shit about that?" I'd love to put this bitch in the hospital!
"Why, I'm going to visit your son and his guilty conscience."
I try my best to hide my confusion. But I have no idea of my son's whereabouts currently on account of Jack Kang's inability to communicate with me. The amount of money I paid him and he up and disappears. I should've seen that coming.
Juanita laughs as she perches herself on the edge of my desk. "Did you not hear a word I said the last time I was here?"
I don't answer, waiting to see where she's going with this. I remember every word she said—not that I believed it all. Tobias hadn't gone near Beatrice. He had entirely lost interest. But I had to try to stop Eric at the offhand chance Juanita was right about Tobias putting pieces together. Putting Beatrice aside, if Tobias is anything like me he wouldn't appreciate being played, and I wouldn't put it past him to seek some sort of vengeance because I made a fool out of him. Contacting Carlos wouldn't be beneath him.
"I get it, no worries, Marcus. You were fairly busy man-handling me."
She points to the cheek I slapped as my insides warm at the thought. There's something about putting a woman in her place that just does it for me. The temptation is there to do it again and push the envelope. Particularly because she seemed so unfazed by it at the time. If she weren't Carlos's daughter—
"That turns you on, doesn't it? Overpowering people you deem weaker than you? Equating power to sex? Hmmm… Sadomasochism at…its…best."
I stand at the observation that hits too close to home. "Get out."
"You sure you want me to leave?" She tips her head and bites the side of her lip.
"I can't think of one reason I would want you to stay."
"I can think of two…"
I avoid her eyes as she uncrosses her legs and walks around the desk toward me. I clear my throat as she props herself up in the same position she was just in, however now she's dangerously close to me.
"One being, well, me…" She looks up at me through thick, thick, eyelashes. "Think about how your hand felt when it connected with my face…causing just enough pain to hear me yelp for you…but not enough to injure me. Did that make you feel something?"
I look away, but the memory presents itself again. And, there is something about hearing it come from her lips… Did she like it?
"Because I felt something…right, down, here." I glance as she walks her fingers down to touch herself between her legs, that are spread further apart than expected. "Something about you being in control…over me. Marcus, do you want control over me?"
My eyes are glued to her swift fingers as she pops open the buttons on her blouse and her quite buxom breasts present themselves to me. Two perfect mounds begging for my fingers to bruise them.
"I've never been one to relinquish complete control. But with you... Well, you made me feel so small and scared. Um…I couldn't stop thinking about how you put me in my place. No one ever does that, you know?"
"Mmm hmm."
The images—the slight bruising I could inflict, the chokehold I could put on her, yanking her head back by the roots. How many times could I smack her before she came? Where could I smack her? Back-hand her? Or more…
"Show me…"
She licks her lips, but I have no interest in those. It's the marks I leave behind that I crave.
I'm out of my chair gripping her by the shoulders before she can even think twice. My fingers sinking into her biceps as I turn her, wrenching her arm up behind her back, slamming her facedown on my desk.
"You want power?"
"Yes," she whimpers as I hit her in the ass hard with my palm.
Holding her down with my left hand I fumble with my belt and zipper with the other. Fuck! I'm so worked up I can't even whip my dick out. I smack her again just for good measure, loving the noise she makes and because I need it. I'm not in my 20s anymore so this may take a moment. Please, only a moment! Finally, I'm free and she's squirming for me—whimpering, crying…and I love it. I stroke myself quickly not wanting to embarrass myself as I wrench her skirt up. Her sweet tight ass is asking for me and I can see her thighs shaking nervously. She's not going to know what hit her. Aligning myself I run my hands up her taut hamstrings, pleased she's wearing thigh-high stockings with a garter belt. I feel something cool touch my right hand, but it's gone before I can process what it is.
Then an excruciating singeing, searing pain rips through my thigh muscle as I'm pushed back into my chair and into the wall. Nita's seething venomous eyes are inches from my face, her knee holding me in the chair putting a mass amount of pressure on my testicles.
"You bought into that, huh?"
I can do nothing but grunt and look down at the small knife she had embedded into my thigh as the room goes out of focus.
"Oh, that? It was a gift from Daddy. He sends his well-wishes by the way. Oh, yes, onto that second reason you want me here. Let me just twist the knife! Hmmm… Proverbial or literal? Mmmm… I chose both!" I feel a jarring pain eat away at my thigh as Nita winds the dagger in a pulverizing motion. "I'm spoiled like that. Anyway, like I told you last week, To-bi-as still has a bit of a thing for Trisha. And well, since we both know how Daddy feels about To-bi-as—his precious Evelyn's son. He wasn't too happy when he found out you were the one behind it!"
"I wasn't—"
"Shut-up!"
I scream and my ears ring as she rips the twisted knife out of my thigh, holding it up to my jugular.
"One quick stab and you'd be dead, Marcus." She jars the knife as I feel my pants dampen. "Look into my eyes. Do these look like eyes that would give a shit if I kill you or not? Do these eyes look like they would harbor an ounce of guilt?" I try to do as she says, but I see nothing but fog and feel nothing but weight. "Do you think anyone would mourn you if you died? If it weren't for your bleeding-heart, dead wife, Daddy would have done it years ago! Although the way things are right now… Pay attention, Marcus!" She jars the knife again and I focus. "Daddy's current disposition—he's quite beside himself… I'd be surprised if you made it through the week! But the difference between Daddy and I—I don't fuck around. One quick slice and I'd walk away. Daddy would insert a dull…blade…a millimeter at a time just to watch you writhe. He's sadistic like that! He enjoys watching the life leach out of the eyes of those who've wronged him. And there is no one in the world he feels more vengeful toward than you…"
Suddenly she stands as if nothing happened while I grab for the blood that is probably gurgling out of my thigh seeing as my pants are an ochre color of red.
"So anyway…I'm on my way to do a little visit! Apparently, Daddy feels some of this is my fault. You should really hire more loyal people, Marcus. People less prone to coercion…"
"What?!... Who?!...," I choke out as bile drips out of my mouth.
"'Cause I gotta tell ya, we both got thrown under the bus on this one! But the difference is—I'm just so sorry!" she says in her Daddy's girl voice. "I'll tell Four you said hello…along with the object of his misguided affections."
"Juanita," I breathe out trying to regain some ounce of worth. "What was the…point…of your …visit? Aside from…torture?"
"If I have to put torture aside…then there is no point!... Oh, but one more thing."
I am suddenly hit with more pain than I have ever felt in my life as my groin throbs from thousands of lightning bolts being simultaneously aimed at it, over and over and over.
"Don't ever…fucking…lay a hand…on me…again!"
I'm blinded by pain, so much that I don't know where it's coming from… I hear the clicking of heels and laughter as more acidity rises into my throat. Visions of Jack, frozen bodies, screams…
End Flashback
I adjust my balls as they throb at the residual memory of Juanita holding a knife to my throat and jacking me with her knee over and over. I've never wanted to actually murder someone, but I would have made an exception for her.
At least, I can say that the leftover pain from that altercation, along with the remaining scent of vomit, have been a welcome distraction from thinking about Jack. He was the closest thing I had to a friend. Even though he failed me in the end…
Glancing toward my office door, I sense the expected presence of Captain Jeanine Matthews.
"Captain! Always a pleasure, do sit." I gesture to the chair across from my desk as I control my hobble and make my way to the other side.
"Would love to say the same, Marcus. But, let me be frank, you're driving me fucking crazy and the smell in here is nauseating," she remarks as her token mix of disdain and boredom resonates across her pock-marked face.
I would imagine, at one point in time, Jeanine may have been attractive. But her atrocious personality mixed with the fact that she seems to never have had a lesson in feminine grooming makes her presence borderline repugnant. Her oddly-colored suits (today being lilac) are too tight for her 50-something-year-old build. Her gray hair is consistently pulled back in a severe bun, and the trademark dime-store-pink lipstick she seems to permanently wear sinks into the fine lines of her lips. If she croaks, the mortician will have the sandblast that shit off!
"Yes, my apologies for darkening your already quite-obscured door—"
"Enough. Our passive-aggressive banter doesn't fit into my schedule today. Now, what say you?" She sits in a rather unladylike manner, contrary to her speech.
"Yes, well, has the Monroe boy been transferred?"
"As instructed—an official patient at Masonic United Mental Health Care Center. Shall I monitor his daily massages to keep his stress level in check or is that beyond my jurisdiction?"
"You don't agree with his placement?"
"He's a psychotic, assailant, rapist who committed such an act in my city, so to say I don't agree with his placement is an understatement."
"Your city? Rahm may disagree!" I laugh at her over-indulgent sense of importance to this city. "Hmm. Well, I must say, the boy is absolutely demoniac. I can understand Joseph wanting him gone."
"He considers this gone?"
"If only I understood the world that family lives in."
"White, overentitled, uneducated, red-neck farmers? What's to understand?"
"I think you just may be the ignorant one in this situation, my dear." She has no clue the power of that family…
"Well, I'll take that bliss." Per usual…
"How did you sway our lovely District Attorney?" This is one of the loose ends I'm slightly concerned with.
"As you know, she's the ultimate fan of open and closed cases, particularly when I give her the credit."
"Fickle."
"Indeed."
"How much of Miss Prior's statement would you care to share?"
I need to be prepared for what Tobias throws my way. He may decide to use the Poor-Beatrice card with Carlos—using her raw deal as leverage against me, at least if he were smart he would.
Jeanine narrows her eyes at me, most likely looking for some sort of remorse to exploit. Pity, yes—the poor girl is truly worth nothing in the eyes of any of us. But, there is no remorse to be had. Beatrice sowed her own seeds the moment she got into bed with the psychotic succubus and now she's experiencing quite the reaping.
Jeanine must sense my lack of sought feelings.
"Suspected rape and assault causing serious bodily injury. She sustained broken ribs, a punctured lung, a head contusion, lacerations and severe bruising—"
"I don't care about any of that! Her statement is my interest."
"Yes, I would say it should be…"
It's my turn to assess her. There is something behind her scheming eyes.
"He was waiting for her at her apartment, starting explaining how he had been watching her…and your son."
"My son." I clear my throat at that, unintentionally sitting up straighter than usual.
"Why, yes, Marcus. Apparently Mr. Monroe told Miss Prior that he would have gladly killed him if he had the chance. I'm curious." She leans forward, unnerving me with her searching eyes. "Would you have shouldered any blame if the schizoid hick decided to pull a gun on your son? Aimed directly for his head? Splattered his brains on the thin walls of her apartment? Shards of his skull imbedded along with it?"
The image…assaults me, and the strange sensation of tightness in my chest presents itself.
"Because that's what happens when you shoot an unarmed man at close range. And I have a feeling your son doesn't carry. And I will tell you this, Marcus Eaton." She leans in even further, causing me to lean back. "I have looked into the eyes of murderers for more years than I care to count. I've only come across three who I would consider…soulless. Eric Monroe…is the third." She quickly sits back obviously pleased with the rise she has gotten out of me. "Well, I can see your son's presence has come as a bit of a surprise?"
I clear my throat…again. "I was under the impression he hadn't been in her company as of late."
"Apparently, you got the wrong impression."
The sudden bout of ridiculous emotion thinking about the imminent death of my son is taxing. Disbelief courses through me again at the fact that I never considered Tobias being in danger nor coming anywhere near the psycho. Crossing coincidental paths with Beatrice here and there, fine. But not…
I can blame Jack fucking Kang for that one! I was paying him enough to put both of his sons through college! Was he lying to me? By omission or not, it's still lies! Obviously, Tobias had been in more contact with Beatrice than Jack had informed me. I only knew of one incident—no more than an awkward exchange at the gym. At least in the world according to Jack Kang!
As it turns out, Gregory the ignoramus was far more useful at doling out information—Tobias having other women, out all hours of the night, even about a recent run-in with Juanita and Miss Prior. I just assumed Miss Prior couldn't take no for an answer! Assumptions… Marcus, you fool!
I unabashedly laughed aloud upon watching the footage of Beatrice run into a disrobed Juanita. That woman is…ALL WOMAN. As much as I can't stand the bitch and want to ruin her, that is now part of the appeal. I must say, putting that footage on slow-motion was the highlight of my night. NO need for Cialis—
"For Christ's sake, Marcus. Do you have it?!"
I smile and pull a thumb drive out of my pocket, moving it back and forth between my fingers. I need Carlos Juares out of my life and this is the only way I can even come close to making that happen.
"You know this is just a drop in the bucket, correct?" I ask referring to the information on the drive—the small amount of illegal dealings I've had with Carlos, mostly political bribery—very much beneath both my and Carlos's repertoires.
"Yes, well, eventually all the drops fill the bucket."
"So, you have more information?"
She stays silent. But I can see it in her boring eyes—she does. I slide her the drive and she catches it precisely in her iron grasp.
"That easy? No warning? Promises? What if I were to tell him where I got this information from? You'd be dead in a day."
"Oh, Captain, my Captain. I have a thumb drive equally as handy…with information on you, ready to be sent through the proper channels upon my possible demise."
"I would expect nothing less. Good evening, Marcus."
"Captain Matthews."
I watch the protruding varicose veins throb on Jeanine's too-shapely calves as she exits my office. Then the second alert comes through on my phone, signaling the arrival of Kim's voicemail. With a deep breath and a reluctant mind, I decide to listen to Jack's funeral arrangements. I can only assume it will a closed casket…
Tris's POV:
I don't know what wakes me, but it startles me enough that my right side burns from the jerking movement. Seeing as opening my eyes feels like the equivalent of deadlifting a kiloton, I decide keeping them closed for the time being is perfectly acceptable. I feel Tobias's warm body pushed up so close to mine we may as well be one person. And his breath on the back of my neck and snug, firm grip around my waist make me feel so safe and, just… I'm so fucking happy!
I shift my body just a little to feel the friction of his against mine, but it only causes him to tighten his grasp around my midsection. It isn't until then that I notice how heavy his breathing actually is and how I can feel his heart race—as in, all out sprint, as it's pushed up against my back.
"Tobias?" I tap his hand and force my eyes open to see the room is just as dark as when…well, I don't quite remember going to bed, so…
He pushes himself closer to me, burying his forehead into my back as a strangled noise comes out of him.
"Tobias," I pull at his hand which only makes him yank me toward him roughly as I freeze in pain not knowing what to do.
I feel sweat from his brow dripping onto my neck and his breathing is getting more ragged. He's holding me right at my injured rib. I've never seen him have a nightmare before but he's told me that he wakes thrashing and usually screaming. My stomach starts to roil at the thought of that happening while I'm in his arms. I exhale a quaking breath and try to relax my body hoping that will relax him, but it only makes me shrink into him more as he flexes his muscles around me.
I hear another unfamiliar heartbreaking noise come out of him as he rolls his body toward me, where I'm near pinned. The pain is excruciating and I can't take it anymore.
"Tobias, please, please, please, please!" I shriek trying to pry his fingers off me.
He shoots up, wrenching me with him by my neck as he chokes out something incoherent. It takes me a moment to process what happened because… … …
Tobias's POV:
I put my ear up against the closet door, taking a deep sip of dark steaming coffee. It smells like Gertie's, so I can only assume it is. I hear the screams, they're fairly incessant this time with the added bonus of hearing furniture crash against the wall. Suddenly it stops after a loud thud and I wait. This is the part that sucks—wondering how long I'll have to wait until the door opens. It always seems like an eternity and I can already feel my patience wearing thin. Finally, Marcus opens the door grinning at me.
"The door was always open son… You could have come out any time you wanted."
That's an incredibly confusing statement. "You told me I had to stay in there."
"You always have done exactly what I told you to do, my boy. I appreciate that." He pats me on the back but it burns me as I suck in a deep breath looking over my shoulder at the charred smoke rising from my flesh.
Walking into the room, I take in the scene in front of me. I had expected to see my mother…limping out of the small apartment as if I'm too stupid to know what Marcus did. But I don't…
"Good coffee, son?"
"Yeah," I say under my breath turning my body 360 degrees taking in the scene of the apartment.
"May I?" He takes the steaming mug out of my hands and drains the near-scalding liquid without even a second breath.
I'm feeling the need to distance myself from Marcus, so I edge myself away tripping over something.
"Sorry about that, son. Here, Let's just clean up our mess—"
"Our?" I ask crouching down to help him pick up the pieces of the old chair.
Marcus looks at me as if I'm the one who's mistaken.
"My boy, you stood behind an unlocked door and listened while I killed your girlfriend."
"You…"
"Yes, yes! Come and see!"
He leads me over to Tris's room, branding my shoulders this time with his grip. And then there she is. I drop to my knees in front of her and stare. Her eyes are open and blank, but aside from that she's nearly unrecognizable. Smoke tufts off her seared, burnt skin as Marcus looks on proudly. He sits on the bed to put his shoe back on while I crawl up behind her and match her body with mine.
"I'm sorry," I whisper to her. "I don't know why I didn't…do anything—"
"My boy, you never do anything!" Marcus laughs as I bury my head in her neck and hold her to me. "One more thing, son… Yes, here."
I feel a scrap of something land on my hand that is clutching hers. Looking up, I see red lace panties.
"Those were some nice ones too. Well, my friend, I must go! We'll be in touch, Eric."
Eric… My chest ignites as I look down at thick, callused, fingers wrapped around Tris's bloody splinter-infested ones. These aren't my hands… Shaking one hand free, I run it down my face and back up over my hair—clean shaven, military style cut. This isn't my head.
Tris's limp body rolls away from me so I grab it before she can leave again, clinging to her.
"Baby, I'm not him. Please tell me I'm not him. Please, tell me I didn't do this…" But she doesn't respond because she's dead. "I did this. I did this. I did this. Oh, God, I did this."
All I can do it hold her and hope to die right along with her. I want to die, I want to die, I want to die—
"Tobias, please, please, please, please!"
…..
A gust of coolness hits my face as I take deep gulps of air as if it's water. I've had enough nightmares in my life, so my mind immediately processes that I was in sleep-induced hell. I shake my right arm free and rest my head in my hands when suddenly I'm hit with pins and needles in my right arm like I've never experienced in my life. Fuck, maybe I am still dreaming…
I continue to shake out my arm as movement registers next to me along with a whimper.
"Tris," I breathe out as my heart swells because she's not dead. I didn't kill her. She's here. She's really here…in my bed. "Hey."
I sweep her hair off her shoulder, giving myself a gorgeous view of the left side of her body from her neck all the way to her bottom. The only thing obscuring my view of her is the wrapping holding her healing ribs in place. I had forgotten I put her to bed in a towel.
"Why are you sitting up?" I wrap my arm around her shoulders now noticing how hunched over she is right as she starts tipping to the right. "Hey, hey, hey."
I pull her gently back toward me and lay her down on the pillow looking over her face for any sign of distress. I rest my hand over her heart to feel it beating steadily and also checking to make sure her breathing is fine. All seems well with the world, very relatively speaking. Falling asleep sitting up? How? God, exhaustion doesn't even describe it…
I smile, biting my bottom lip between my teeth because I now get to look at her. Every raw, disgusting feeling that had surfaced in my nightmare has now been washed away because if having a nightmare, brought me this view…I'm okay with it.
It's dark out, but I rarely close the room-darkening shades, so the city lights shine onto the bed and I can see Tris in all of her silken skin—DAMN IT!
Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!
This is one of the moments where I sincerely hate being a gentleman—one of the few moments where I wish I were more like Uriah. Mggghhhhh! Trying to grumble in my mind only, I slide the sheet up to cover her perfect torso. Apparently I'm not that much of a gentleman, though, because the sheet leaves nothing to the imagination.
But…I know I still won't look except for out of the corner of my eye where I can see her nipples have made small tents in the sheet. But, ya know…only out of the corner of my eye…
Aside from that, I lean up on my elbow and allow myself to watch her peaceful, sleeping, face. I've never been able to tell if she breathes through her mouth or her nose—Maybe both? Her lips are always slightly parted. I hold the back of my fingers up close to her face. Definitely both… I lay my head on my arm, still able to look at the left side of her face, although it's obscured from the light. She'd be happy with that anyway, because of her bruising… My fault…that shit…is all on me.
I wonder if she'll ever truly, honestly, forgive me for that? I reach over her and take her right hand, linking our fingers and bringing both up to her heart…only because I need an excuse to feel it beat.
Tris's POV:
I wake suddenly. This time no need to find my bearings, no problem opening my eyes—they more or less shoot open. Something's wrong—I'm in too much pain. I lift my head and frown for a moment because of the scene I take in. It's light out now so I can see everything. I'm clutching Tobias's hand over my chest, his head is burrowed next to my rib cage and one of his legs is slung over mine. I ignore the pain for one more second, just taking in how comfortable I would otherwise be. But still…something's not right.
With more reluctance than ever, I detangle our hands and just the movement of my right arm rips pain through my side. I let out a very, very, shaky breath trying to remember what happened…
Tobias had a nightmare, bone crushing pain and the last thing I zoned in on was the orchid picture he had put on the table under the TV… I passed out. I know it.
I carefully inch my left leg out from under his, but stop as he shifts and sucks in a quick breath. I quietly pray that he's not having a nightmare, for his sake and for my own. But just in case he is, I need to get out of this bed. Bearing all my weight on my left arm, I push myself up to an excruciating upright sitting position, ready to swing my legs off the bed. But all I see are what feels like miles and miles of dizzying, unused, real estate in this fucking stupid, stupid, king size bed!
I can feel my breath start to accelerate as Tobias twitches. I need to get out of this bed, but I see the contorted look on his face and it kills me. Fuck, when I have nightmares I pray in the fucking nightmare for someone to wake me and now I can't even do this for him? I'm evil! Okay, you'll wake him…once you get out…of…this…bed. I'm slowly, inching myself forward putting all weight on my left arm.
I don't know how long it takes me, keeping my eyes on Tobias's twitching legs, anticipating him to kick out. But, finally, with bleeding cheeks on the inside and painful wetness on the outside I make it to the edge of the bed. I feel some cooling relief along the side of my head that I soon realize is sweat.
"Fuck," I grunt clenching my teeth as I scream on the inside pushing myself up to stand.
And then I see it through the incredibly loose wrap that is supposed to be helping my posture—the bandage, soaked through and bloated from blood pooling.
"Uh…" I hobble to the bathroom with tunnel vision.
I need to get to the sink, the sink, the sink. And to my bag. Get to the bag. Just re-bandage it. It happens. Stitches pop. Wounds reopen. Re-bandage and rewrap it. You'll be fine… You'll be fine… You'll be fine…
I can see I'm almost to the sink. It's very foggy, but it's in sight. I can see it. It seems to take years, but I do end up in the bathroom as I undo the wrap quickly because suddenly nothing seems to hurt. Then I quickly rip off the Band-aid and throw it on the sink. I chuckle because that was no Band-aid. Then I take a couple breaths that I can only imagine is what a woman sounds like when she gives birth, before I smack at the box of tissues, to dab up the blood. But the red on the floor catches my eye. Jesus, did someone die in here?!
I turn to face the mirror, seeing myself for what I am—
"Tris…?"
I turn to see Tobias's distorted, horrified face. Oh, he's mad…
"I know. I'm sorry about me, the naked, and the floor. Uh… Can I get a towel? The Kleenex won't…help me. Sorry, I can get it."
I walk toward the closet but Tobias is suddenly inches from my face talking to me and making me walk backward and talking to me some more as I nod my head at his deep monotonous voice. I feel something cool and flat on my back and look down at my left hand that Tobias is holding down on the counter.
"Lean on your hand! Tris, listen to me! Do…not…move. Look at me."
I nod my head understanding that I am NOT…TO…MOVE! He seems to believe me as he goes into his I-will-fix-this-if-it-kills-me mode. Which is good, because I think someone may already have died right here, so he has a lot of fixing to do.
I nod at his questions even when his voice escalates and he pinches at my sides.
"By yourself?!" He throws bloody towels in the sink. "Look at this, Tris! You can't… Fuck, you can't…"
"I'm sorry."
He looks so mad. I watch him as he pulls the extra stuff the bitches from the hospital sent me home with.
"I'm gonna…just get some water." I go to walk out to the kitchen until I'm gripped by strong arms.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" He gets eye level with me so I can touch his mouth, but he catches my fingers before I can do more. "Tris?"
"Mmm hmm?"
"Have you heard anything I've been saying to you?"
"Yeah, I'm just really…thirsty." I try to push past him but he grabs me again.
"Tris, okay. Fuck... I'll get you water. Just stay, right here."
I nod my head amazed at his borderline controlling tendencies as I watch him head into the kitchen. He's wearing a T-shirt. He never sleeps in a T-shirt… I wander back in the bathroom catching a side view of myself and I'm frozen on the spot feeling like someone smacked me in the face. I have dried blood all down my side and I'm totally naked and my world is now back in order. And by back in order, I mean, a total disaster.
Tobias's POV:
I wake in a cold sweat, thankful to be in my bed and thankful that shit, again, wasn't real. I hear water running in the bathroom and jump out of bed to see what I can do to help. But before I can get more than two steps, I stop myself. Tris is a capable individual. She is able to function. She doesn't want you hovering. She's probably brushing her teeth. Or maybe washing her face. Let her—
"You'll be fine… You'll be fine… You'll be fine…" I hear her repeat like a mantra.
It's accompanied by heavy, purposeful breathing and she's not even trying to be sneaky about it. The something flops and then she laughs. That's all I can take so I decide to rid her of her privacy rights and walk into the bathroom.
I get there as she turns to the side, examining her wound—the damage from having a chest tube slammed into your lung. And it's openly bleeding, all down her side and onto the floor. And her wrapping is hanging loosely around her hips. She has both sinks running and the Kleenex box is floating in one of the sinks and the other bandage is bloated and bloody sitting right on the sink.
"Tris…?" I finally choke out, realizing I was momentarily frozen to the spot.
"I know. I'm sorry about me, the naked, and the floor. Uh… Can I get a towel? The Kleenex won't…help me. Sorry, I can get it."
She walks to the closet, flitting her hands in the air spastically while I go into straight up overdrive.
"No, no, no, no, no." I take her by her shoulders trying to figure out what the fuck she's doing. I look back-and-forth from her side to the calm resolved look on her face. "Baby, what are you doing? Did you try to change the dressing yourself?"
She's nodding her head evenly at me.
"Back up, come on."
I lead her by her hips walking her backward. I lean over to get a better view of her side as blood trickles over my fingertips and I see a mess of it all over the floor.
"Tris!" I hiss in exasperation. "What the hell? Why can't you just…fucking…wait?! I'm here to help you!"
She inches to the right as if she's trying to get around me.
"Lean on your hand," I demand as she looks at me quizzically and then shakes her head as if I'm overreacting. "Tris, listen to me! Do…not…move. Look at me." I place my fingers firmly on her cheek so she knows I'm not fucking around here!
She seems to give in and nods her head, defeated.
I unplug the sink and take out the soaked Kleenex box, then reach over for the hand towel and run it under the warm water.
"Why did you try to do this alone?" I ask trying to keep my cool as I lift her arm and dab at the stitches.
I look closely, trying to figure out where exactly the bleeding is coming from. It's beginning to slow down I think, so I'm hoping all she did was pop some stitches.
"Tris?" I glance up at her stone cold stare.
"Hmm?"
"Why the hell aren't you answering me?"
"Oh, uh…sorry."
I close my eyes and walk the pads of my fingers back and forth over her ribs. They still feel as if they're in place—aligned, just swollen again.
"So, you got up and just, what? Figured 'Hey, fuck my punctured lung and broken ribs, I'm going to be dumb and do this all on my own!'?"
I look up at her as she nods her head agreeing with me.
"All alone?" I need to make sure I'm hearing this correctly.
She nods her head again as if this isn't a big fucking deal!
"By yourself?!"
I'm officially pissed at how fucking aloof she is about this. I toss the bloody rag in the sink and point to the scene.
"Look at this, Tris! You can't… Fuck, you can't…" And I apparently can't even put into proper words how aggravated I am with her!
"I'm sorry."
"Jesus!" I whisper at that meaningless apology as I go over to her bag and take out all of the supplies the nice nurses sent home with us—iodine, gauze, anti-bacterial ointment, liquid stitches, and another rib wrap. I pause and look at the one that still hangs loosely around her ribs. How did that one become so bloodied? And how was that not a RED FLAG that it's time for HELP?!
"… …. …. get some water."
I barely hear the tail end of that before I'm in front of her, blocking her from the kitchen, ready to go ape shit. "What the fuck are you doing?!"
I get right in her face—as in eye level. But all she does is smile and reach up to touch my mouth.
"Tris?" I take her hand away gently, taking a deeper look in her eyes—my emergency mode moving onto secondary actions.
"Mmm hmm?"
She looks woozy and unfocused and I can't FUCKING BELIEVE I'm just starting to notice it.
I cup her face gently to check out her pupils—pretty damned dilated. "Have you heard anything I've been saying to you?"
"Yeah, I'm just really…thirsty."
She actually tries to push me aside, which is almost funny, were this situation remotely funny. But then she blinks her eyes and furrows her brows.
"Tris, okay. Fuck..." I try to collect myself and grasp her shoulders to steady her…and myself.
When was the last time she drank water? What the fuck time is it anyway? She probably does need water.
"I'll get you water. Just stay, right here."
Rushing to the kitchen, I grab a glass and fill it at the dispenser on the fridge. It's taking soooo much longer than usual!
I didn't want to leave her just standing there, but sitting would be painful and walking would be painful, so…fuck, I'm DOING THE BEST I CAN!
The glass is only half-full but, fuck it! I head back in there quickly anyway, to see Tris painfully pulling a towel out of the closet with her left hand trying to wrap it around her. She makes a strangled noise as I put the glass on the counter and walk over to her.
"Here." I take the towel out of her hand and drape it over her shoulders, not missing the fact that her face is flushed and she's biting the fuck out of her lip—basically trying not to scream out in pain, knowing that I would come running. "Do you want to rinse off the in the—"
"No."
"Okay." I stand there waiting for her to tell me what to do, but she doesn't so I lead her by the elbow back over to the sink.
I turn on the faucet to warm up the water as I reach in the alcove to grab another hand towel. I know she's examining herself in the mirror but I'm pretending not to notice, even when the tears drip off her chin. I know what she sees right now, and if I take this moment to tell her she's beautiful to me, however accurate, she won't believe it for a second. And I don't want that perfect word to lose its meaning.
As much as I hate the fact that Tris literally doesn't hear compliments, I love that about her at the same time—she doesn't rely on them to make her stronger or to make her feel better about herself. Her strength is all her. It's 100% her own making. She's the ultimate version of a self-made woman.
Once the water is warm enough, I make eye contact asking if I can move the towel off her shoulder. She shrugs but then tenses as it falls off her right shoulder. That's not a good sign. So I kneel down and go through her bag, holding up a pair of underwear for her approval. I get the nod for the light green cotton ones that I have a particularly fond memory of involving a ceiling fan. But I push it to she side seeing as she's already standing in front of me, practically nude and completely vulnerable. Not needed, Tobias.
Hobbling back on my knees I hold them for her to step into, shaking my head at the blood on the floor. Then I slide them up her legs.
"Ouch," I utter under my breath pretending she injured me with her non-shaven legs.
"You're a bastard."
I chuckle and secure her underwear over her perfect ass, lingering briefly as I drag my fingers forward. Ugh… … … …
Then I pull the towel free and raise her elbow, feeling a moment of frustration as she reaches over her torso with her left hand to cover her breasts. But then I realize it's probably better that way. I really do not need her perfect pink nipples staring at me in the mirror begging me for attention right now.
"I know I shouldn't care," she whispers before clearing her throat.
"Mmm hmm."
"I've just lost weight and I…"
It's funny to me how she feels the need to explain this shit.
"Hey, it's okay." We make quick eye contact and I shrug. "I've lost weight, too."
"Really?"
"Yep," I say noncommittally although I hate the fact that I have, or maybe I hate the reason I have.
"Sorry. The asshole in me really likes that."
I stop, still holding the warm rag up to her body and process the twinge I just felt at that remark. I reflect back on how I felt when I saw a side view of Tris from afar at Hangars.
I look back up at Tris as she has her hands on her hips giving Christina a blatant 'no.' Her abs definitely resemble more of a six pack than her usual fit yet softer abdomen. She's lost weight. Fuck… She turns to the side and I deflate when I see how much she's lost. In reality, it probably isn't much. But five pounds on her would look like 20 on someone else. She doesn't look at all unattractive. She's still fucking beautiful. It's just the knowledge that I have imposed it on her that's killing me.
"Interesting… Because when I noticed you lost weight, it broke my heart," I say honestly.
"Tobias, I'm sorry. I know you—"
"So, you were pretty out of it when I walked in here, huh?" I ask, deflecting, as I carefully wipe her leg down with the warm rag.
I stand and avert my eyes, as I rinse out the cloth and go back to do the best I can with her rib cage. It's so bruised… Flashes of him kicking her over and over slam me and my eyes instantly burn at the image.
"Hey," she says softly trying to get my attention, which I ignore.
"Why did you try to do this yourself?" I ask flatly hoping she hears the intention in my voice and not the subtle hurt.
"Uh…I didn't."
"You said you did."
"Oh…well, yeah, I guess I was pretty out of it. I don't really remember what you said to me," she laughs nervously.
"Drink some water," I order nodding in the direction of the glass.
She takes it, shakily and gulps half of it down, handing the remainder to me as I shake my head unwilling to take it.
"Drink some water," she mimics in her version of my tone of voice. Awful…
Biting my tongue, I put the rag down and petulantly take a sip of water, keeping very annoyed eye contact, before handing it back to her and giving her a close-mouthed smile, which she returns with equal annoyance.
I grab the iodine and put some on the gauze dabbing at her stitches until something clicks in my head.
"So, then, what…happened? If you didn't try to do this yourself…"
I examine the iodine while it dries as I reach for the liquid stitches. She only popped three—
"Oh…I just…woke up and…well, I had to go to the bathroom. And I must have just jumped out of bed and, I don't know, I guess they popped 'cause next thing I know, I…"
I lean back on my haunches for a moment taking in that total load of bullshit she just handed me. She's lying and I now need to figure out why she feels the fucking need to do that.
Why does Tris lie? Tris lies to deflect attention? What is there to deflect in this situation?
Tris's POV:
Why do I say such stupid shit?! Immediately, after pretty much telling him the fact that he was miserable makes me happy, I felt terrible. It's not that I wanted him to be miserable, it was just nice hearing that we were in the same boat.
"Hey." I tilt my head prompting him to look at me, but what I really want to do it crouch down and grab his face.
"Why did you try to do this yourself?" he practically interjects.
Fuck! Just the detached tone of his voice—he's not mad. It's worse—he's hurt. Damn it!
"Uh…I didn't."
"You said you did," he accuses glancing up at me sternly.
My mind scans over the haziest point in the scenario. I saw blood all down my side, I was in pain, everything got foggy, I was dizzy and panicked. He came in the bathroom and…yeah, that's all I...
"Oh…well, yeah, I guess I was pretty out of it. I don't really remember what you said to me."
"Drink some water." He jerks his head at the glass that he was thoughtful enough to get for me.
Grabbing for it, it almost slides out of my hands, but I manage to drink a shit ton of it before realizing he probably needs it as much as I do. I hold it in front of his face as he flinches away and shakes his head stubbornly.
"Drink some water." And there's the worst Tobias voice ever!
He practically yanks it out of my hand and takes one infantile sip with a smartass expression, setting the glass on the counter. I give him the middle finger in my mind, regretting it as he goes back to work on my side. He doesn't have to do any of this shit! Can't I be grateful?
I look at all the blood on the floor as he holds my arm up dabbing at my side. How did that happen?
I run the events of last night over in my head. I must not have slept that long because Tobias woke me and it was still dark. He woke me… Oh, God… I remember him having a nightmare and practically crushing me, and then being thrown upright, a mass amount of pain and that's it. I realize I must have popped my stitches and then… Oh, no, no, no… Tris, keep your damned mouth shut!
"So, then, what…happened? If you didn't try to do this yourself…"
I swallow and give the simplest version I can think of, knowing if I fuck this up he will blame himself. "Oh…I just…woke up and…well, I had to go to the bathroom. And I must have just jumped out of bed and, I don't know, I guess they popped 'cause next thing I know, I…" I trail off because my heart is racing and I know I'll just keep blubbering and give myself away if I keep talking.
So, I'm just going to keep looking straight ahead, at myself. Fuck, torture at it's finest. I sense him looking up at me. No, please, please, please… I did really well that time! It wasn't an all out lie! He's incredibly quiet suddenly and I'm not gonna say a fuckin' word.
He holds my skin together and adds some liquid stitches quite deftly and I only shed one tear out of my left eye at the sudden pinch. Then he stands as I glance at the blank expression on his face and slowly reddening cheeks, holding my stitches in place and reaching for the antibacterial cream. I keep my eyes trained on him as bites his tongue and purses his lips simultaneously. Shit, shit, shit…
"Tobias—"
"Shh," he orders as he dabs on the cream, then reaches for the thick gauze with shaky hands.
"I can't shh—"
"Learn," he states sternly.
Five, four, three, two, one…
He looks up and me and shakes his head saying sorry with his eyes while I nod my head knowing the only reason he doesn't want me to talk is because he'll lose his mind if I do. He thinks I'll try to make excuses. They aren't excuses!
I do stay quiet while he tapes on the gauze perfectly as if he's done it a thousand times.
"How is it you can do that like an expert but it took you weeks to learn how to wash my hair—"
"Do you want me to put a new wrap on?" he interrupts my attempt at lightening the mood.
"It was more for posture purposes, it doesn't hold any wayward ribs in place," I chuckle nervously. "And ya know what? It probably aggravated the bandage anyway! And that's why—"
He walks out of the bathroom clearing his throat as I stand there with wide eyes not knowing what to do since I'm standing here topless in a mess of water and blood. So I walk to my bag and lower myself straight down to grab a shirt. Forcing air down the back of my throat in place of a grunt of pain as I stand back up—
"What the fuck are you doing?!" Tobias yells, startling me as I take a few steps backward.
"Uh, I, I, I didn't think you were coming back I'm sorry," I say somehow in one breath.
Then I'm immediately mad at myself for apologizing as I change my tune and stare at him angrily. He doesn't get to yell at me because he's pissed at himself. But I'm taken aback again at the loss of color on his face as the T-shirt he was holding falls to the floor.
"Tris," he whispers as his eyes turn red and an instant tear comes out which he wipes away as if it burns his cheek. "I…"
I turn my body and back into the wall enjoying the support it provides beckoning him to come closer, which he denies me.
"Tris, the way you just said that…" He runs his hand down his face. "It didn't sound like you. Is that…? Fuck! You just apologized when I yelled at you!" He clenches his jaw and backs out of the bathroom.
"Tobias James Eaton! Don't leave me in this fucking bathroom for one more God-damned minute!"
Exhaling a deep breath, he rounds the corner coming close enough to help me, but I grab his T-shirt with my left hand twisting it forcefully and pulling him flush to me. He resists for a moment but then relaxes, resting his forehead on the wall, hands at his sides.
"Okay, I know what you're thinking. And the answer is, no, I never apologized to him when he was being cruel or…anything else. I didn't make excuses for him. I never had the thoughts in my head that I hear so many others have had. I never thought 'he didn't know what he was doing,' or 'he's really sorry,' or 'it was a one-time thing.' The only time I did give him the benefit of the doubt was when I found out he was on medication. But I soon figured out, his behavior went beyond his Depression. Deep down I always knew it would happen again. I think that's been the hardest part—feeling like I don't fit in. Other women, shit, at least, they were under a delusion… Me? No, I fucking knew! And I really did nothing. So, that makes me the biggest dumbass of all—"
"Tris—"
"You're turn to keep your mouth shut."
I feel his Adam's apple graze my head and I relinquish my grip on his shirt, feeling confident he won't flee as he grazes my arms with the backs of his fingers. So I place my hands on his slim hips, feeling his muscles under my fingers.
"I don't make excuses for you, Tobias. I never have. You can be a real prick, sometimes. You have a temper and you let your frustrations get the better of you. You're flawed. I'm flawed. Shit, you just bandaged me back up without even thinking twice! And what did I do? I made a hateful comment and disregarded everything you just did by nearly popping my stitches again!"
I stand still not knowing what else to say, just loving the feeling of his warm skin under my thumbs. I rest the pads of my fingers under the hemline of his sleep pants, rubbing circles on his lower back with my thumbs. He puts his forehead on my head and starts gliding the tips of his fingers up and down my sides sending shivers through my body.
"You looked at me like I scared you."
"Well, you startled me. Why are you so sensitive to this all the sudden? It's not like it's the first time you've yelled at me. And you and I both know it won't be the last..."
He doesn't answer me. When he doesn't respond, it's always because the answer is right there in front of me and there's no need for an explanation. Why is he suddenly over conscious of me being scared of him when all he's ever really done is make me feel safe? Except in the hospital, when I found out the partial version of—
The hospital…
"Tobias," I sigh. "What I said to you in the hospital… You're not… That wasn't… Fuck, please don't hold onto that—
I can't get another word out as he roughly cups my cheeks and brings his lips down onto mine as I inhale a startled breath. He pulls away momentarily but then changes his mind and pulls me to him by my lower back moving his mouth over mine. And because I can't resist this man, I completely allow him to continue with his transparent distraction and invite him in, letting him do all the work. I let him tangle his left hand in my hair, I let him explore my mouth and my lips with his tongue, I let his free hand roam my side slowly up and down with just his palm. I rest my right hand on his hip, unable to do much more with it, but try to reciprocate the best I can with my left, pulling him to me by his shoulder. I shiver as I feel the heel of his palm graze my left breast, and an embarrassing whimper comes out of me when he stills his hand so he can run the tip of his thumb back and forth underneath it. Suddenly he stops and I realize he's trembling slightly.
I pull away and look up at him. "Are you…okay?"
"Yeah..." He closes his mouth and opens it again like he wants to say something but closes it again.
"Tell me."
"I just…uh…don't want to hurt you."
I nod my head slightly, but can't help but glance down again at his entirely non-aroused self. I mean, I know we were just kissing so it's not game on time. But… FUCK! So, of course, what do I do? Cover up my boobs like a junior high adolescent in the locker room!
"Tris, don't—"
"Can you hand me that shirt?"
He bends down to get the T-shirt he brought in for me and hands it to me looking me in the eye as if pleading for me to understand. Nothin' to understand!
"Do you want me to help—"
"Just put it over my head…please."
He bunches it up and puts my head through the neckline while I finally relax and put my left arm through as he reaches in and helps me with my right.
"Thank you," I say meekly. Ugh… Meekly…
"Sure."
"Well, uh…" I walk over to the sink leaving Tobias standing by the shower door. "I'm gonna brush my teeth and…" I look down at the blood, water, Kleenex, gauze, towels, etc. piled up on his floor. "Fuck, Tobias. I'm so sorry about this mess—"
"Tris, seriously… We both know who's fault this is—"
"Not…yours." I stare at him with my don't-mess-with-me eyes.
He stands there and stares me down right back, then shakes his head knowing I've won.
"I'm gonna shower. Do not clean this up. I'm not fuckin' around, Tris!" He points at me until I make eye contact.
"Okay, okay." I move toward the left sink knowing I can, at least, clean some of it—
"No."
I look at his very serious face and tip toe back over to him, grabbing his hand, closing the distance between us completely. Personally, I would prefer not to be more than inches away from him, even if it seems we have differing goals at the moment. I look up at him, stand on my tiptoes and kiss him softly on the cheek lingering, lingering, lingering. It's strange, kissing him when he has so much facial hair. It tickles my nose when I pull away. I feel a pull at the bottom of my T-shirt where he seems to have grabbed a fistful of it.
"Sorry," he whispers as he lets the shirt go, dragging his thumb across my leg as he does it.
"Why—"
But he turns and walks into the shower, clothes on and all, before I can even ask him why he's sorry.
Tobias's POV:
Well that was officially terrible and awkward and I'm just a fucking idiot! Had to go for the gold (okay not the gold, but maybe the bronze) and make out with her when she can barely reciprocate. And that's the problem…she barely reciprocated. Because she can't? Because she doesn't want to? As much as it makes me an asshole, I hope it's the former.
After I hear her shut the bathroom door, I kick out of my sleep pants, T-shirt and briefs resisting the urge to whip them against the shower wall.
I can't even take my clothes off in front of her because I know it'll make her uncomfortable. She definitely doesn't want me to see her naked, so I can, at least, be considerate on that end.
God, feeling the tips of her fingers slide into the hem of my pants, and then her allowing me to pull her close, the feeling of her bare breasts pushed up against me… Just had to wear a fuckin' T-shirt! She had no idea the view she was giving me as I rested my forehead on her head. I had a perfect down-shot of her very, very, enticing chest. I got to literally watch her nipples harden as I ran my fingers up and down her sides. But the immediate subject change calmed me…very quickly. All it took was the mere suggestion of her being afraid of me like she was of Eric, and it was over. Even as I was trying to move back into safer territory and distract myself with her phenomenal kisses, he was in the back of my mind.
I soap up my hair quickly and rinse it out, leaving my head under the shower. I run the pad of my index finger over the tip of my thumb remembering the feeling of the underside of her breast as I grazed it with my thumb back and forth. I close my eyes as the familiar burning sensation comes back because all I was thinking at that moment, was what Eric did to her while she was passed out. He most likely had plenty of time to…touch her however he wanted…to do whatever he wanted…
It's at this very moment that I wish Tris weren't here. So I could throw something or scream or provide myself with some kind of distraction. I can feel everything building up and I think it may bury me.
I had nightmares and I know I was the one to rip out her stitches. Stitches—a perfect metaphor for our relationship right now! That's why she was sitting up when I woke the first time, and then she passed out from the pain. I yelled at her for trying to do the dressing herself, without even noticing that she was in shock.
I love her and want her so badly but there are more things in the way than I can push through at the moment. I want to be near her. I swear, sometimes it feels like I want to crush her—like being more than inches away will be the end of me. But at the same time, arms length sounds amazing right now.
I've never had to deal with things that are literally standing right in front of me, demanding my emotional attention and maturity. I can't lash out when she's here.
But there is no worse thought in the world than her not being here. I want her here. I want her.
"I just don't know what the fuck I'm doing!" I emit clenching my jaw.
I turn up the shower temperature significantly—the pain of the hot water beating down on my back providing me with a welcomed interference from my hyper-reactive mind as I try to push through the scorching heat.
… … …
The acclimation of my body to the water being my wake up call, along with the confusing inclination to wrap my arms around Tris from behind and bury my face in her neck brings me back to reality. My skin is pruned and I have no clue how long I've been in the shower. At some point I had braced the shower wall so I push myself away from it, clearing my throat and turning off the water. One of these days I will take a NORMAL shower. At least, I get to actually use my shower again.
Out of habit I grab at the towel on the door and dry my face with it, then slinging it around my waist, I walk out of the shower drying my feet on the towel mat, heading to the sink. The mirror surprisingly isn't fogged up and I decide to actually take the time to look in the mirror. I look shockingly rested, but my beard is fucked. I wonder if Tris even likes it. She may hate it! Who the hell wants to make out with a porcupine? Damn!
Again feeling the even greater need to have Tris in my arms, I quickly take out my clippers and clean up my face, hoping I will no longer share a likeness with a homeless logger.
How did she possibly find me attractive like that? What the hell is wrong with her? Fuck, maybe she didn't. Awesome.
I go for my toothbrush, knowing I must have horrendous morning breath, when my fingers brush against a wet one placed nicely next to mine. I grin at that until I realize…I forgot to get a towel, I didn't lay out the towel mat and I hadn't turned on the vent fan. I close my eyes trying to talk myself out of the fact that Tris saw and heard all of my frustration. I can just see her shocked face as she listens to my anger, or as she watches me plunge myself under scalding water. I never turn on the vent fan. This bathroom's huge so there was never a need. She knew… Fuck…
I drag my hands, both hands, down my face.
"She doesn't need this shit from me!" I mouth to myself in the mirror as I grab my toothbrush and begin to savagely beat the hell out of my teeth.
Once my gums are officially on fire, I rinse out my mouth, throw the toothbrush onto the countertop, take a deep breath and walk out to the bedroom, taking in the sight before me…
Out on the balcony, with the patio chair tilted toward the right as to get a slight view of the lake, sits Tris. Her left foot is flat on the seat of the chair and she's resting her arm on her propped up knee. The action makes my T-shirt ride up to the apex of her thighs and I watch her leans muscles move as she flexes and points her right leg. I drag my eyes up to her face as she holds a mug up to her mouth and takes a sip, making a small smile before rubbing her lips together. I love how she doesn't hold the coffee mug by the handle—she, more or less, cradles it as if it's a precious commodity, sliding her slim fingers under the handle. She must have managed to brush her hair because it's swept over the back of the chair, hanging in loose waves. The backlighting making her hair take on a caramel color rather than the usual blondish tones. How could I…ever think…for one second, that I needed space…from that?
Tossing my towel onto the floor, I just about trip into my briefs because I can't tear my eyes away from her. I put my jeans on so quickly I almost zip part of my dick up before I head out there, but then I decide to put a T-shirt on at the last minute—there's are some voyeur's in the building straight across from me and I've caught them with their binoculars on several occasions.
Shit! She needs pants! Dudes do not get to see her—Hmm… Wait a minute… I follow my nose toward a much-craved aroma as I stumble toward the kitchen in some kind of trance.
On the breakfast bar, I see a hot cup of coffee and two pieces of buttered toast with a note.
Just needed some space.
I love you.
Translation—she knows I needed space, so she's giving me some. I slump down in one of the stools feeling like the biggest ass to ever have walked the Earth. I grab at the toast taking an all-too-big of a bite along with an all-too-big of a sip of the hot coffee.
Fuck, that tastes amazing… I should be doing this with her! I can't even count how many times I had wished for this opportunity and now here it is—my opportunity…sitting her sweet cheeks out on my balcony giving ME space! And how did she even do this? Left-handed? I look down at the toast and see that it's semi-demolished. Yep, left-handed! Where did I even have bread? And how are people making coffee?! WHAT THE FUCK—
"Hey."
My angry eyes snap up to meet Tris's softer ones as she leans on the corner pillar at the end of the breakfast bar. Mine immediately melt to match hers. At least, I hope they do!
"Hi don't leave okay?" I somehow manage to exhale and speak at the same time.
She nods her head but looks at me warily, deservedly so. I turn my stool to face her, leaning forward significantly to reach the hem of my T-shirt, pulling her to me between my legs. I immediately flex my leg muscles around her thighs trying to keep eye contact, which she's dodging a little. I wrap my right arm around her torso and rest my left hand on her hip, pulling her closer and closer until she finally sighs and gives in, leaning into me. I sigh in return and move my head into her neck grasping my forearms loosely behind her back and crossing my ankles behind her, anchoring her to me. God, she's only in my T-shirt… And she's here. How many nights have I dreamt about this shit? Coffee, Tris, T-shirt! Everything else…meaningless!
"Now you can't leave," I whisper petulantly into her neck as she chuckles.
She moves her hands that were braced on my thighs up toward my groin stopping right at the top before turning her head and running her lips up and down my earlobe causing me serious pause. "I've gotten out of worse holds, you know."
She has gotten out of worse holds. A lot worse…
I involuntarily loosen my grip and uncross my ankles, cursing how my body reacts before my mind does. Yet I keep my head in her neck waiting for the expected response of her pulling away while hanging onto this moment for as long as I can.
And I get it as she straightens up and looks at me with a confused expression—as if she's trying to figure out where she went wrong. Something must connect as she shakes her head and smiles uncomfortably. I'm sure my shame and averted eyes don't help.
She takes a short breath preparing to speak, but then stops and purses her lips with a helpless expression. She's trying desperately to figure out a way to make this better for me. What a fucking joke! I'm the one who should be making this better for her!
She begins to back away but I grip her hips prompting her to stay.
"Tris—"
"I'm not the one who leaves, Tobias," she deadpans as she pries my fingers away even though I tense them up in protest.
"Fuck. I know. But I meant what I said—"
"I couldn't…" she grunts as she finally frees herself from my greedy fingers, "put the toaster away, so I just kinda left it there. There's more coffee in the pot and—"
"Can we talk about this—"
"And I, uh, hope I got you the right towel. I made sure to take one from the bottom of the pile, so…"
I close my eyes as she walks into my room. But then, determined to explain myself I follow her, just about taking her down as we collide.
"Mgh!" She grabs her side staggering back as I pull her arm to me.
"Are you okay?" I ask desperately as I move her elbow feeling her rib for fractures.
Then something hard is thrust into my chest. I look down to see Tris's tablet and she's pushing it forcefully into me.
"Take it."