I Do(n't)

“And you couldn’t wait to use it?”

“No.” I pushed away from him and huffed. “I opened the package while I was at the baseball field last night because I wanted to see it. I’ve never had one before. I didn’t use it,” I added, feeling as though it needed to be said. “I saw movement in my side mirror, and I freaked out, so I tossed it on the floor. It must’ve rolled under the seat because when I got home, I couldn’t find it, and I didn’t want to stand out in the driveway all night looking for it. There was a dog barking and it freaked me out. I had all intention of getting it today, but then forgot all about it until you said we had to take my car. I didn’t exactly have much time, so as soon as I found it, I shoved it in the glove box, assuming you wouldn’t look in there. Why the hell would you look in there? Honestly, what are the odds you’d open the glove box?”

His laughter rippled through his chest. “So there’s no mystery guy?”

“Really? A purple vibrator nearly fell into your lap just now, and all you’re worried about is if I’m seeing someone? No. I’m not. I’m hard up and desperate for an object that runs on batteries.”

His hands floated down to my hips where he held me tight, digging his fingertips into my flesh hard enough to possibly leave bruises. When my gaze met his, the world quit spinning and I feared I’d float away. The lack of judgment in his calming green orbs ignited a fire within me.

And suddenly, it was as though the earth no longer had any oxygen.

He lowered his forehead to mine, not once breaking eye contact, and whispered, “There’s no need to be embarrassed. We all do it, so pretending we don’t is just silly.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

“That’s the goal, yeah. Is it working?”

“Not until the evidence of you doing it falls at my feet.” If only I hadn’t been staring into his eyes before I made that proclamation, I just might’ve been able to hear it in my head before ever allowing those words to tumble out of my mouth.

His huffed mirth burst across my face in a rush of air. “If you really want me to…”

“Forget I said that.” I turned my head and pushed out of his hold, finally giving in and allowing myself to laugh at…myself. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

He made it around the front of the car, back to the passenger side, but as I turned to climb back in, my heel must’ve skimmed a rock and I went down. In order to protect my knees from landing on the street, I extended my arms in a thoughtless attempt to catch my fall, and immediately felt the burn in my palms. A split second after the sting tore through my hands, a bone-deep throb shot up my shin from my ankle. I twisted around to sit on my bottom and pressed my back against the front tire so I could pull my leg to my chest.

No matter how much pain radiated through my body, I held in the sobs. With my eyes squeezed closed and my teeth gritted together, I lowered my forehead to my knee and fought to maintain control of my breathing. Then, what seemed like hours later, I heard my name called out in panic. It was rough and cracked and desperate, and it sank into me.

Holden came around the car again and knelt in front of me. “What the hell happened?”

I rested the back of my head against the car and took several long, slow, deep breaths. “I think I twisted my ankle. I stepped on something and my foot went one way and my leg went the other. It hurts so bad, Holden.”

Wordlessly, he slipped one arm behind my back and the other beneath my knees, encouraging me to wrap my arms around his neck so he could lift me bridal style. With every step around the hood to the passenger seat, where he carefully set me down and buckled me in, I fought against the tears. Yes, my ankle hurt, but I was also embarrassed—even more so than before—and just wanted this day to end. But thankfully, I didn’t have to worry about anything. Holden took care of it all.

He drove me home, holding my hand the entire time, and then carried me inside, where he placed me on the couch while he pulled an ice pack from the freezer and a few pain relievers from the cabinet. Then he came to sit next to me, settled my legs in his lap, and proceeded to be my hero.

“What in the world made you wear high heels?” His fingertips lightly traced my foot while it rested on a pillow over his thighs. The TV was on, yet neither of us watched it. Instead, we kept our attention focused on each other.

“They were on sale and I thought they were cute—which they are, but it seems I’m not meant to wear them. I’m much happier in flats. You know…closer to the ground.”

He pulled back the ice and winced. “It’s ugly. It doesn’t seem like you broke anything, but it’s swollen and quickly turning colors. You need to keep it elevated tonight, and probably stay off it tomorrow.”

“This is going to suck. You’re going to be at work, and I’ll be stuck here all alone, the cripple, unable to take care of myself.”

“I’ll see if Christine can come over and keep you company.”

“Oh, joyous. Just what I’ve always wanted…a babysitter.”

“Stop. I’m sure if you quit assuming everyone is against you, you’ll probably start to see how much everyone enjoys being around you. Christine loves you. And the best part about that is she doesn’t have to. She’s not your sister and didn’t grow up with you. She wants to be around you because she chooses to. Take a step back and you’ll see the truth.”

I waited a moment and watched him. He had his head reclined, eyes on the ceiling fan in the center of the room, and I found myself desperate to know what went through his mind. “Are we okay, Holden? You seemed upset today at dinner, but I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he responded, but he didn’t look at me.

“Then what happened?”

“I don’t know. I wish I had an answer for you but I don’t. I guess the thought of you hanging out with me all day yesterday before meeting up with some guy for sex bothered me. I can’t tell you why because it doesn’t make sense.”

My chest tightened with anticipation, praying he’d admit he was jealous, which only confused me more. “You know, I’m sure the next five and a half months would be a lot easier if we stopped fighting each other. If we called a truce and stopped trying to one up the other, maybe we might understand our feelings better.”

His head fell to the side, and he locked eyes with me. “Like actually be friends again? For real and not pretend just to keep the other person from doing something crazy?”

“That’d be nice, right?”

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