Playing House

by Willsin Rowe

  “That was incredible.”

  Incredible was nice. Incredible wasn’t the kind of thing a guy said before saying crazy, terrible, hurtful things like I think we should see other people. Was it? I tried to press home the point.

  “I mean, because… well, obviously as I said, I was scared last night, and… it got weird.”

  “It?” His smile cut straight into me.

  “Okay. I got weird. I shouldn’t be carrying all that baggage, I know. But it’s not like I want to.”

  “I get it. And I’m trying to work with you on it. I just feel we’re so good together. And after that, I think maybe you feel the same way.”

  “You know I do.”

  “Honestly, Luce, I don’t know anything. I just think and hope.” He stood straight and ran the back of his hand gently down my cheek. “Actually, I do know one thing. You’ve had troubles in relationships that I’ve not experienced. I’m ready for the next step with you. Really ready. And you’re not in that place yet, I can see that. I don’t want to rush you, but my god it’s hard to wait.”

  “Please, Mark. Don’t pressure me.”

  “I’m really trying not to.”

  He sounded genuine, but he also sounded impatient. Making him wait wouldn’t be fair on him, but I’d only just found out how important it was not to put myself aside just to please a man. “I am sorry, Mark. I just had a bit of a shitty day and I thought I could… fix it. With you.”

  “Is that all it was?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Please don’t misunderstand me, Luce. That was one hell of a blow job. Sheer perfection, really. I’m definitely not complaining you did it. What worries me is the reason for it.”

  It was impossible to keep my mouth from dropping open. “Y-you’re actually… my god, you really are one in a billion, Mark. The only man in living history to ask why when he gets his dick spontaneously sucked.”

  “Are you even listening to me, Lucy?”

  “I think I’m done listening to you. Maybe you should just say thank you and… and…”

  “I love you.”

  “What?” He couldn’t. That was just plain impossible.

  “I didn’t think it would happen so soon. But there it is.”

  “Why the hell are you telling me this now?”

  He held my shoulders and stared me down. “Because it’s why that blow job bothers me.” Before I could shoot holes in him—or at least his argument—he put his finger to my mouth. “See, I think you’re even more scared than you realize. Scared of how you feel about us, sure. That’s a given. You don’t trust your heart to do you right. What frightens you even more, though, is that this might be perfect. Everything you want and need.”

  He spun me around and cradled me in his arms, his chest against my shoulders. His every move stole my words before I could speak them. In the gap I left, he spoke again.

  “You don’t want to risk losing what we have, but you won’t take the leap of faith and accept me as your boyfriend. So you’re keeping me on the hook. I kind of don’t mind, but I can’t wait forever.”

  It was hard to admit how right he was about a lot of that. But what was easier to spot was his totally male self-absorption. Had he even listened to anything I’d said about my day? About it being a bastard and all?

  “Mark, listen… that’s all well and good. I mean, it’s, um… nice y–you love me and all…”

  “But?”

  I swallowed heavily, already dreading the next moment. “I hate that I’m about to use these words but… it’s not you, it’s me.” Actually, it was Patrick, and Cameron and any number of the others. But especially Patrick right then. “I told you already, today was a bad day. I’m very fond of you, Mark, but I’m not stable in the head. I can’t process something as heavy as I love you.”

  “Hmm. But chowing down on my manhood, that you can do?” His body stiffened against me. “You done?” He was suddenly cold and distant. I hadn’t wanted to hurt him at all, but he’s the one who was all about being honest. But now my honesty had cut the one man who didn’t deserve it.

  “Mark, please. What’s wrong? What did I say?”

  He turned to shut off the water, pulling his hard body free from me in the same motion.

  “Mark. Talk to me.”

  He stepped out of the shower and grabbed his towel, stopping long enough to toss one over to me as well. As he scrubbed at his gorgeous hard body he kept his back to me and spoke in a tone so neutral it nearly killed me.

  “Look, I get it. We’re both single now, and you know how I feel about you. I guess you’re…I don’t know.” His tone suddenly sharpened when he continued. “Exercising the privilege that comes with having irresistible girl parts.”

  If I could ever catch my breath after the shock from that verbal barb, I might just slap the hell out of him. I’d heard him get brutal with his words, but it had only been to Gabrielle and Patrick. To have him spray venom at me like that way was like a knife in my belly. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “It’s just the way it is. I see it all over the place. You girls hold the balance of power over decent men when it comes to sex. You know we’re not gonna take without permission. You have the prize between your thighs and you dangle it in front of us just to get what you need. God forbid you should acknowledge a man might want anything more than just perfect pussy.”

  “Wh-why are you being such a prick? You haven’t listened to me at all! You don’t know what…” There was no way to finish that sentence without it sounding like a lie, and a ploy for sympathy. If I told him now about Patrick’s heavy-handed thuggery, it’d sound like nothing more than an attempt to worm my way out of his bad books.

  Mark hooked his towel around his neck, letting his shoulders droop. Though it seemed any anger he’d been holding was now at least watered down, still he kept his back to me as he spoke. “I–I’m sorry, Luce. I really don’t mean to be a prick.”

  “You clearly just have a natural talent.”

  “Please. You’re just making me crazy.”

  “Oh, I am? It’s all my fault now? When it comes to crazy, I don’t think you need any help there, Marky.”

  I’d only wanted a reaction. Using the name that woman called him was just my way to get him burning up again. Maybe I thought it would remind him that he wasn’t without sin when it came to relationships. But really, if I was honest, I just wanted to scratch him somehow. And I’d gone far deeper than I’d ever meant to, clearly.

  He whipped around and stared at me like I’d peed on his Mustang, his brown eyes turning darker than his coffee. His frown was etched sharper and deeper than I’d ever seen it.

  I wanted him to speak. Even if it was a shout, or an insult, just tell me what he thought. Tell me I was a bitch or a cow or whatever, because I already knew I’d proved that. He didn’t make a sound, though. Without another word he swiveled on his heel and marched, naked and wet, out of the bathroom.

  “Hey! Don’t traipse water all through my…” But before I could finish he’d already shut his door. He did it quietly, but with an unmistakable clarity. No slamming or thudding, simply a crisp click that felt more like a fuck you than even a fuck you would have. Just as I’d done last night.

  My bathroom had never felt so cold or so empty, even in the few weeks when I’d lived here alone. The tension in my belly grew back, warning me I’d probably just messed up any chance to be with Mark properly. Maybe he’d consent to some kind of with benefits arrangement, but I’d just bitched my way out of a near-perfect boyfriend.

  But on the other hand, I’d never known—never even heard of—a guy who took issue with a girl initiating sex. Especially some one-sided sex where all he had to do was stand there and be worshipped for a moment. From what I knew of guys it didn’t even need to be a girl he liked or respected. If she was willing to p
ut him in her mouth, she was the greatest girl in the world, right up until he came.

  So what the hell went wrong here? What more, or less, should I have done?

  Men!

  It was impossible to keep myself from muttering harsh nothings as I dried off. My skin almost cried out in protest as I roughed it up with the towel, in some kind of self-punishment exercise.

  Stepping out of the shower recess, I noticed how Mark’s rapid departure from the shower had drowned the mat. Typical man. Typical Mark, at least. With his unabashed way of sucking the marrow out of life. Maybe that was why I’d felt so free to suck the marrow out of his cock. And I thought there would be no negative consequences, because he was such an open book when it came to his hungers.

  I stepped around the sopping wet bath mat on my way to the mirror, and wiped the condensation away to look at myself.

  Despite the anger and disappointment, there was still a ripe blush in my cheeks, a natural darkness to my lips. The blush grew deeper as I re-lived every second of my time in the shower. How thrilling it had been to shock him simply with my sudden appearance and my nakedness. The ache inside me when I’d scanned Mark’s long, tanned and lean body. Tasting the water that washed over it. Though it was plain old city water, straight from the faucet, somehow it was far more delicious than even my cool filtered stuff. Because in my head, it was enriched by the body and spirit of Mark.

  Oh, god, what the hell was I doing? I was torturing the one man who’d never treated me badly. Who’d been a better companion to me than any lover, even before we’d made love. And that awful experience behind my store, with that deranged fool, had served to highlight all of Mark’s wonderful qualities, yet it seemed to be the one final straw I was still holding on to from all my previous crappy relationships. That men could be harsh and cold. And that they could be far bigger babies than the most spoiled princess when the world didn’t serve up what they thought they deserved.

  It could be argued Mark was acting a little hard-done-by as well. Sulking now because I wasn’t acting the way he wanted. But I had to admit, I’d been putting him through the wringer without ever truly meaning to. Another guy probably would have either left or drawn a line in the sand by this point. Maybe even gone a little over to the dark side, where guys like Patrick hung out.

  But a relationship had to be based on more than simple geographical convenience and a lack of thuggery, surely. This city had plenty of men who were single, lived nearby, and would never raise a hand to me. Statistically-speaking, at least. Any one of them would be a better choice than Mark, right?

  My rules… my precious, precious rules.

  As I rubbed moisturizer into my skin, I studied my stupid face again. How could anybody be better than Mark? An Adonis with a conscience, a hero with the chops of a chef. And more importantly, a man who wanted every inch of my curvy body at least as much as I wanted him.

  This situation had moved far beyond simply breaking my own rules. This was me unravelling. First it was a stitch here and a stitch there. Now, my clothes were practically falling off me every time I thought of Mark. It seemed to be as true literally as metaphorically. I couldn’t believe how badly I wanted him, yet how eagerly I kept pushing him away.

  Applying moisturizer to my arms and legs made me think of Mark’s touch, and damn my stupidity, but it got me tingling between my legs again. I folded my towel into a square and placed it in the laundry hamper, then walked back to my room, trying not to make any noise, but trying not to sound as if I was trying not to make noise. At Mark’s door I stopped for a second, then scurried past. The last thing I could handle at that moment was if he leapt out and glared at me again.

  Apart from the hiss of fabric on skin, the house was completely silent as I pulled on my yoga pants and crop top. Not a single sound was coming from Mark’s room, which might have meant he was asleep… or running a marathon on those feather-light feet of his. Whatever he was doing, the silence was eerie. Even when he slept the teasing sounds always crept through the common wall.

  Of course, the other option might be that he’d dressed and left while I was in the bathroom, ridiculously overthinking my stupid choices. And for all I knew, for all I deserved, he’d gone crawling back to Gabrielle. A glance down at my body, barely contained in clothing which revealed the exact shape of my generous belly and thunder thighs, reminded me of exactly what it was society deemed to be acceptable. I pinched at the bulge of skin that oozed over the waistband of my pants and came to the inevitable conclusion… not this.

  I’d always been content with my shape and my size. I’m healthy and fit, and I’m also round and thick. Yeah, I heard the jokes and comments said behind my back, like any girl my size did. As if people assumed my ears were too filled with fat to pick up what they said. Or maybe they just didn’t give a damn if I heard them or not. Mostly it didn’t matter to me because it was people making a snap judgment based only on one part of me. The outside.

  It was only when Mark moved in that I’d struggled a little, and truthfully it was nothing to do with him, exactly. It was that skinny girl who he dragged in on his wake that got me all het up. As I thought back to Gabrielle’s tight body, I wondered again what on Earth it was Mark saw in me.

  20

  Dinner time was rapidly approaching, which had the potential to be a total disaster. After all, if Mark was still pissed with me, I couldn’t exactly ask for his help. But if I made my own I’d probably spend the next week in hospital. Besides, did I really need to be eating so much?

  Dammit. One of the things I was most proud of was my lack of genuine issues when it came to my body. Suddenly, and bizarrely, the presence of a man who adored it had made me begin to question it completely. I was beyond help.

  This absurd kind of double-thinking and second-guessing was exactly why I’d always told myself never to get involved with a housemate. That rule came about simply because I knew the wild knots I would end up tying in my own mind.

  Whether there was any chance of dinner or not, I still needed to speak to Mark. Try somehow to explain myself in a way he could understand. And maybe I could clear the whole thing up for myself at the same time. I stopped outside his door and listened, still hearing nothing. The house didn’t have that sterile, vacant sensation it always had when Mark was gone, so I was almost certain he was in there. Perhaps pointedly ensuring I couldn’t hear him.

  I tapped on his door a couple of times, trying to keep things all business. Above board and clear. “Mark? You in there?”

  “Yeah.” A wave of relief washed through me that I could at least put to bed the fear he’d run out. Gone to sleep with that other woman. On the other hand, I couldn’t recall his voice ever sounding so flat.

  Or had I? Any time he’d spoken to Gabrielle on the phone his voice had been quite featureless. Oh, god. Was he filing me with her, now? An ex who was too much trouble to deal with? I carried on, hoping to at least warm him up again. Wishing I could seep through the door and cling to him forever.

  “Did you have… um… any dinner plans?”

  There was a sound somewhere between a crack and a thud, and it was almost certainly him torturing his book by slamming it onto the bedside table. The next thing I heard was utterly terrifying. For the first time ever, the thumping sound of his feet on the floor rang through my house. As it grew louder I had to step back from the door, as if he was some kind of steam train or stampeding beast. The speed and power that sound conveyed was terrifying.

  He yanked open the door and glared out at me, a look somewhere between anger and disappointment painted across his face. Dressed in only jeans and a tank top he nearly took my breath from me. For a moment he held my gaze before letting his eyes roam up and down my body, and his expression eased from angry to pained.

  “What the hell are you doing to me, Luce?”

  “I–I’m asking about dinner.”

  “Baby, you know
that’s not what I mean.”

  Oh, hell. I never understood the appeal of a man calling a woman that. But when Mark said it to me right then, it let me hope he wasn’t so angry he’d walk out. It gave me just the slightest belief I could repair the situation. If only I understood exactly what the situation was.

  “W–what, then?”

  “I mean what you did in the shower just before. And last night’s shenanigans.”

  “What am I doing?” I caught the welling hysteria in my own voice and tried to calm it. “Well, I should think it’s quite obvious by now I don’t know what I’m doing at all. What are you doing?”

  He let his head fall forward. Any anger he’d been holding seemed to ease from his body at that moment, like steam. “See, that’s the thing. I don’t know, either. I’m trying to do right by you, and give you space and all. It’s really hard because I know I’m ahead of you on the curve, but it’s worth it. You’re worth it. The only thing is, I’m working without having a clue what right actually means in this case.”

  I let a long sigh escape me, as if I, too, was letting off steam. “Yes, well I’m not sure I can help you there, Mark. Clearly I haven’t the slightest idea what’s good for me.”

  “I am.” He spoke with such earnest desire it almost cut my knees out from under me. He took my hand in his and it was as if he was completing a current, reactivating my body. Bringing me alive. “Look, Luce. Before I say anything else, I need to tell you I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. The last thing I want is to hurt you. Some of what I said back there, in the bathroom was… well, the part about how you make me completely crazy? Yeah, that was definitely for you. But the rest of it was… well clearly that was for… somebody else. And you should never have been in the firing line for it.”

  “Oh, god, don’t you dare do that. I am not Gabrielle.”

  “Hell, no. You’re not a bit like her, and there’s not a day, not an hour, not a damn minute goes by I don’t thank my lucky stars for that.” He raised my hand to his lips and kissed my fingers, tenderly, as if they were baby birds. “But let’s level the playing field, huh? By the same token, I’m not Cameron. Yet here we are, each hiding behind our own past and pretending it’s peachy keen to do so.”