“You stuck on my body, on my body like a tattoo.”
My light rocking becomes harsher and harsher, bordering violent. My jaw sets and I squeeze my eyes shut tight. My face contorts with hate and anger. The hands at my head fist tightly. Gritting my teeth, I smack them hard into my brows.
Rage coils low in my gut.
Standing suddenly, I walk over to the dresser and pick up the CD player, yanking the cord out of the wall. Walking with a purpose over to the open window, I throw the CD player out as hard as I can and shut the window.
A muffled crash sounds.
I take it in.
Closing my eyes, I breathe deeply and wait patiently for my heart rate to return to normal.
Turning, I look over to the bed where she sleeps.
Only her bright blue eyes are open. And she saw what I just did.
I’m not used to people being around when I get angry.
She lies on her stomach, her naked back looking pale in the moonlight. The sheet rests low on her back, barely covering her sweet ass. She looks at me without judgement or anger.
And for a second, I’m taken back to a time long forgotten. A time when life was good.
Running a hand through my hair, I sigh and move over to the bed. Sitting next to her, I move her dark hair off her shoulder. I run my fingertips gently from her shoulder, down to her elbow, and back up.
“Hey.” I quietly greet her.
She replies cautiously, “Hey.”
My face softens at the sound of her voice. Fuck.
“I’ll replace the CD player.”
Her face remains passive as she replies gently, “It’s okay. I wanted a new one anyways and you just gave me a reason to get it.”
Fuck me.
Can I do no wrong in this woman’s eyes?
The niggling remains of my previous episode return and I glare at her. She stills immediately and her eyes become fearful. I chuckle humorlessly, “Babe. Seriously. You’re too smart to be with a person like me, and you’re definitely smarter than being one of those chicks who fucks a guy like me. But I get that you’re diggin’ slumming it.” A cruel smile appears on my lips. “After all, the good girl always wants the bad boy. Doesn’t she?”
Sitting up in the bed, the sheet falls and I’m graced with her naked beauty.
Her beautiful eyes are now sad and misting. Her face is pure fury. So angry she’s shaking, she whispers, “Get out.”
I chuckle low in my throat and roll my eyes at the show she’s putting on. My laughter is cut short when the bedside lamp flies by me and smashes into the wall by my head. Broken glass falls to the floor by my feet.
I turn my glare on her, “You could’ve taken my eye out, Lexi. Fuck!”
Standing and walking across the room, she picks up a crystal vase and throws it at me, hard. I catch it mid-air as she shrieks, “I said get the fuck out, Twitch!”
Tears fall down her angry face; her body trembles in anger, and I feel like an asshole.
I can’t let that show though. It’s not part of who I am. Not anymore, anyways.
Placing the vase on the desk by the door, I wordlessly slip on my slacks, then my shoes; I take my shirt and jacket in my hands and leave.
Closing the door behind me, Lexi lets out a pained wail.
And there it is.
Just a reminder of why we can’t ever be together.
I thought long and hard about what happened with Twitch last night. I thought for hours and hours about how I feel, and thought even more about what needs to be done.
My mind made up, I decide to visit him at work. And it’s only when I approach his office that I still in front of the door and realize how stupid I must be.
But if I don’t do this now, I’ll never do it. So I have to do this. Right now.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared.
Entering without knocking, his irritated face looks to see who has interrupted him. When he sees me, his brows rise in surprise, but he covers it all too quickly. Looking back down at the computer, he types and mutters, “Kinda busy here. What do you need, Lexi?”
Lexi. Not Angel.
I close the door behind me and move two steps forward. My bravado runs out of the open window. “I-I think you need to get some help,” I say weakly.
His face hardens. His eyes turn cold.
Losing what little courage I think I have, my voice wavers. “Seeing a psychiatrist isn’t a bad thing, Twitch. I do myself.”
He stands suddenly. His chair hits the wall with a bang. I jolt. He orders, “Get out.”
When he sees I don’t mean to move, he stalks around his desk slowly, like a predator.
A lion going in for the kill.
And I’m just as petrified as I’m sure the antelope would be.
When he’s a foot away from me, I whisper, “You don’t have to live like this, Twitch.”
His eyes close. “I said get out.”
“It’s a means to an end.”
His jaw tics. “Get out, Alexa.”
“You’ll feel like a new person.”