by A. E. Murphy
He looks faintly surprised and his anger melts away. “You want to stay?”
“Have I given you reason to believe otherwise?”
A peaceful wave of emotion relaxes his face and he pulls me into his chest, his foul mood gone as quickly as it came.
What a psycho.
My psycho. I smile at the thought, even though I shouldn’t. After all he’s done… but… meh. I’ll go to hell with him so it’s all good.
Still, I’m not letting him get away with that shit. “But speak to me like that again, I’m gone in a heartbeat and I’m taking our daughter with us.”
“I shouldn’t have shouted,” he admits, closing me in a loving embrace. “I definitely shouldn’t have shouted.”
“We’ve been avoiding this for too long.” I tip my head back and press my lips to his. “Actually, you’ve been avoiding me for too long and I’ve just been too busy pretending life is perfect to figure out why.” Seeing how he reacted to me wanting to leave has reassured me that him not sleeping in my bed isn’t because he doesn’t want me. I deduce that it is likely because he doesn’t want to hurt me, but I’m all better now.
He doesn’t deepen the kiss as I expected. He holds my biceps gently as though ready to push me away, which he has done a few times in the past few weeks.
This time I’m ready for it. I grip his shirt and crush our lips together. Then he becomes unresponsive.
He actually uses an excuse when he pulls back, saying, “I have a lot of work to get through.”
“That’s okay.” I grin my sexiest grin. “I’ll just blow you while you work.”
My grin widens into a smile when he chokes a little and seems to have to gather himself.
“Not now, I need to concentrate.”
He needs to concentrate?
“Ooooookaaayyyyyy….” I don’t want to push him. If my kiss isn’t working, my verbal dirty talk isn’t working and just the sight of me isn’t working, then I’m not going to force him. “Maybe when you’re done?”
Am I actually asking him for sex? What is wrong with me?
“Sure.” He pats my cheek awkwardly and is about to turn back to the room when I stop him by tugging his shirt.
“Can I ask you something stupid? I don’t want to come across as insecure or whatever because to be honest, I’m not… I’m still sexy even though I’m pregnant, but that doesn’t mean you have to feel that way,” I ramble, shake my head to clear it and then blurt, “Are you not attracted to me while I look like this or is there another reason why you’ve been rejecting my advances since I got home?”
Again he looks shocked and nervous. What is wrong with him? This isn’t the Tobias I know!
“You think that because you’re pregnant… with my child… that I no longer find you desirable?”
I shrug my shoulders, keeping my face carefully neutral. “It’s stupid to ask. It’s not like you’re going to say, ‘yes, Cerise, I think you’re mingin’’. Forget I said anything.”
“You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on, even now while puffy faced and pregnant as you often refer to yourself.” His smile is gentle and warm. “I just really do have a lot of work to do right now.”
Maybe he’s right. I’m being paranoid. “Sure. I’m sorry… so, my bed, later?”
“Yes,” he says, but ‘later’ comes and, unfortunately, I do not, because he doesn’t bloody show up.
I don’t chase after him. I’m not about to beg for attention like some kind of dog. Instead, when the morning rolls around, I get up, get dressed and, for the first time since coming here, I leave the house alone. In his car.
I am such a motherfucking rebel.
Looking great in clothes he purchased for me that I actually like, sunglasses over my eyes, seatbelt on tight and leather backpack on the passenger seat, I drive to somebody who I haven’t seen in what feels like forever. Somebody who I hope I haven’t completely fucked up with.
“Cerise!” Enri looks surprised at first but it quickly changes to a broad, handsome grin. “What are you doing here?” He scans my body, levelling on my middle and comments, “You look really pregnant.”
“Twenty-eight weeks and counting. May I enter?”
He nods, standing to the side to let me in.
I step into his hallway and he leads me into the main room of his apartment. The last time I was here we snogged on that couch, almost fucked, and Lockhart caught us.
“Can I get you a drink?”
“No thank you.” I stare at the sofa for the longest moment, wondering why I did what I did. I know I must’ve fancied Enri once, but I just don’t anymore. He used to make me feel so hot and needy, with just a smile. Now the only person who does that is Tobias and he’s killing me with his unwillingness to participate. “I actually came to apologise for not responding to your messages and to thank you for your gift.”
“Don’t apologise.” He pulls on the back of his neck, looking really uncomfortable. “Please… you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Actually I did.” I face him and tilt my head to catch his eyes. “I used you, to get at your cousin, which is fucked up. I fancied you, but I wanted him more and I knew that doing that would hurt him. I still did it and I’m sorry.”
“Cerise,” he chuckles, raising a hand. “We’re consenting adults. I knew what I was getting into with you. You made no promises and neither did I.”
I know he’s about to bring up the video, again, so I raise my hand, mirroring his movement just moments ago. “I forgive you, completely, for the video.”
His lips part.
“I said I did before, but I didn’t mean it. I don’t blame you for it getting released. It’s not your fault you were hacked.”
“Cerise…” he breathes, taking a step closer to me. The emotion is in his eyes; I can see it there but I need to not acknowledge it.
“Just promise me you won’t film anybody else without their consent?”
“On my life.” He raises his hand for a different reason this time and then crosses the room to hug me. “Thank you.”
“Why is everyone so mushy now?” I grumble, smiling as I return his hug. “I thought that was supposed to be me?”
Chuckling, he kisses my forehead and releases me. “Thank you for coming here today.”
“Do you want to do something? Catch a movie?”
He nods eagerly. “I could actually think of nothing better.”
Hi honey, I’m home!” I call into the large house. I half expect it to echo, but it doesn’t.
“Would have been nice of you to say goodbye,” Tobias calls back. I follow his voice into the kitchen where he stands, leaning against the counter in jeans and a T-shirt. I’ve never seen him so casual. It suits him.
“You were sleeping.” I move towards him, kiss his cheek and then all but skip to the fridge. “I wasn’t sure if I should wake you.”
“Why? Never bothered you before.”
In a sing-song tone I say, as I grab a bottle of water from the fridge, “We weren’t separated before.”
“Separated?”
“I’m better now.” I point at him with the hand that holds the bottle. “You have yet to return to my bed, despite the fact you said you would.”
“You’re not ready. It’s only been a few weeks.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m fine.”
“Where have you been? You look amazing.” He licks his lip and I see desire flash in his eyes before he looks away from me.
After sipping my water, I tightly twist the lid back on the bottle until the plastic burns the palm of my hand. “I’ve been with Enri, making up.”
“Enri?”
“Yes.”
“Huh, random.”
I nod. “Yep. I’m just trying to move on from all of the negative shit.”
His handsome mask stays in place as he stares at me, waiting for something.
“What?” When he doesn’t reply, I frown and repeat myself, though this time it’s c
urt, “What?”
“I’m going to go back to work tomorrow, now that you’re better.”
“Okay, me too,” I say softly. “I already spoke to Dane and Kai. They’re excited.”
He doesn’t argue, which I’m extremely grateful for. This happy revelation has stayed just that. Uncomplicated and happy.
When he doesn’t move, I go to him like I did the day before and push my hands up and under his top. His muscles twitch and his solid chest tightens as I glide my fingers over his soft skin, brushing over his nipples.
I hear his breath hitch when I lean in to taste the skin above his collar bone, sucking gently and then nipping at it with my teeth.
He grabs my biceps and pulls me closer. I smile and wrap my arms around his neck as he desperately lifts me onto the counter, wrapping my thighs around his hips. My body has never lit itself on fire so quickly. I feel as though my lust just spilled out like gasoline, consuming every part of me and him.
Moaning, he grinds himself against me as desperately as I drag him to me, needing to be filled so badly, to erase all of the bad stuff and make room for just him.
But then he’s gone with a growl and a string of expletives under his breath. I pant for air as I watch him do the same, his back to me.
“Okay you definitely want to fuck me,” I giggle, “so what’s stopping you? Why the theatrics?”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he admits. He turns to face me, looking so adorably desperate and pained.
“I’m almost healed. I can have sex.”
He doesn’t reply so I shake my head questioningly.
After another moment of silence, it’s my turn to growl. “Look, I’m extremely pregnant and extremely horny. So please… please. Don’t make me beg.” Then, with a giggle I add, “I just begged not to beg. I’m losing my mind.” He still doesn’t reply. “Okay… fine. Is it because of this?” I point my bump at him, glaring down at the reason I could be deprived of sex. “You’re scared you’ll hurt the baby?”
“No,” he groans, rubbing his face with his hands. “That’s not…”
“Than why! Damn it… WHY!” I want to start sobbing. I don’t even care if I have to beg anymore. I don’t want to pressure him into doing it, but…
My thoughts are cut off and my libido evacuated from the building when he snaps, “Because you were raped!”
“Okay.” I blink stupidly. “And just like that, I no longer want sex.”
“I can’t do it until I know I’m not going to hurt you emotionally or even physically,” he goes on, but like a child I plug my ears and chant, “LA LA LA LA LA!”
“Cerise.” He chases after me as I leave the area, still chanting. “Stop it. Let me explain.”
“Nope. No… You don’t have a right to decide when I’m ready or not. If I think I am, then I am. Low blow bringing that shit into our house.”
“We can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”
Is he for real? “You mean you can’t pretend it didn’t happen?” I hate this. Why did he have to do this? “I’m damaged goods.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not?” I laugh, grabbing my keys off the side, ready to leave when he puts himself in my path. “It’s what you’re constantly thinking.”
His eyes darken, his lips thinning to a white line. “You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
“You’re right, I don’t, because if I knew you were thinking about me being raped every single time I touch you, I’d have left weeks ago.”
Shock crosses over his face. “I’m still processing this, trying to figure out the best way forward.”
“You should have taken your cues from me and just fucked me.”
“It’s harder than that… I like things a certain way, I always have. I don’t know how to not like them that way,” he yells at me as though I’ve asked him to change, which I haven’t.
“I’m aware of how you bloody like things, Lockhart. It’s one of my favourite things about you!”
“Then you can understand my hesitation!”
I nod. “Yep, it’s just my mistake for thinking we were past it.”
“You were assaulted… I watched… that stays with you.”
I sneer at him, my hormones getting the better of me. “So does being aware of a murder and not doing anything about it, but I’m still here, willing to give it my all.”
My blow cracks him straight in the metaphorical nose. “Uncalled for.”
“You’re right, I apologise.” My tone is as sarcastic as my vicious little soul. “I’m just bitter and horny and you’re not available.” I know I’m being cruel and I hate it, so I relax my face and say, “I know you think you mean well, but you’re not helping. I can handle it.”
“Well, I’m not ready yet,” he admits and it slices through me like a knife when he adds, “I don’t know how to touch you anymore without thinking of what you went through.” He smiles grimly. “I’ve tried. It’s all I’ve thought about, but I just can’t bring myself to do it.”
“Is this because you don’t like the thought of me being touched by somebody else? Or is it because you are worried you’ll trigger me or something?” I’m finding this all so fucking confusing. “Because if that’s the case, I should hate you for choosing to share Rebecca’s bed…”
He glares at me, his patience wavering faster than mine. “I didn’t sleep with Rebecca.”
“I know! But you still touched her, you still kissed her, you still held her hand in place of mine,” I shout, feeling frustrated and fed up. “Yet I forgive you for that because I believe that you genuinely felt as though it was the right thing to do for me.”
“I appreciate your forgiveness, but I’m still not having sex with you.”
I’m not going to lie, I genuinely feel like crying at that revelation. “Right now, I feel something akin to hatred for you.”
“Cerise…”
“No,” I snarl. “No… I’m leaving the room and you aren’t going to follow me.”
He stomps after me anyway, making me growl and spin to him, shoving his chest aggressively as I yell, “Stay the fuck away from me, Lockhart!”
“So it’s Lockhart now? Not Tobias? Because I won’t fuck you?”
“Exactly.” I sulk, pouting and turning back away from him.
“Babe…” He starts chuckling and grabs me from behind, pulling my back to his shaking chest. “We sound ridiculous.”
“I do not,” I sniff, wiping my tears away from my stinging eyes. “You do.”
He laughs harder as he turns me in his arms. “You’re crying.”
“Stop laughing at me!” I try to pull away but he squishes my sniffling body into his chest and rocks us gently, swaying us side to side.
“I love you. Can’t that be enough right now?” He whispers into my hair, making me cry harder. “What’s wrong?”
He wouldn’t get it. He couldn’t ever understand. I’m hormones trapped in a pressurised tank. I’m so fucking horny I can’t think straight. My body has gone untouched for too long and knowing that I’ll have to wait even longer is a torturous thought.
“If you don’t have sex with me then I’ll find somebody else to have sex with me.” It’s a petulant threat but I don’t care.
His arms that form tight bands around me stiffen. “Don’t say such stupid things.”
“Let me go,” I plead. “Lockhart…”
“It’s Tobias.”
“Whatever.” He releases me and doesn’t follow me when I go to my room.
As I stare at myself in the mirror, my chest heaving, I start to hate myself. I shouldn’t have said that or behaved that way; that’s not me. This baby is making me crazy.
After a few moments I calm my trembling and my nerves and turn back to swallow my pride and apologise to him but, as I exit my room, I hear the front door slam and then his car peels out of the driveway.
My body starts trembling again as the loud cracking slam of the door echoes through the cavernous spa
ce. It slams over and over and over again. Each time it brings a wave of pain through my head and side.
SLAM.
SLAM.
SLAM.
I press my hands to my ears to make it stop, but it’s as though it’s inside my brain.
Do I have an aneurysm? Am I going to die?
I sink to the floor and squeeze my eyes shut. Trying to think of anything else to stop the slamming.
SLAM.
SLAM.
SLAM.
It sounds with each desperate beat of my heart.
It won’t stop.
It’s as though a distant memory is trying to break through an invisible door.
Break through a door…
Damn it. My head hurts.
I just want it to stop.
I crawl to my phone and pick it up, my eyes blurring with tears as the piercing headache doesn’t go away.
Cerise: I need you. My head really hurts.
I press send and drop the phone onto the floor, closing my eyes and resting my head back on the soft mattress.
SLAM.
“Stop!” I beg my mind out loud, as though that will help.
I’m not sure how long I’m sitting on the floor, gripping my head, before the front door slams again and Lockhart eventually skids to a stop in the doorway.
With the next slam comes the sound of crunching, like the breaking of a nose. Dane broke his nose in school when a door opened into his face. It crunched, like a shoe on gravel.
This same sound comes with the slamming…
“What’s wrong?” Lockhart pants.
As I look up at him the slamming stops; the crunching stops…
“He threw me across the room,” I mutter as a wheel of images turns in my mind, unjumbling and unfurling from a distant thread. My mental doorway is wide open and it’s Lockhart standing in the doorway breathing heavily that has triggered it. “You killed him.”
He crosses the distance and crouches in front of me. “Talk to me.”
“I remember everything,” I say breathlessly. “Oh my god…” As if it only just happened, the memories finally form a line and merge into something more coherent. “He said…” Nausea burns a path up to my throat. I try to swallow. “That Thatcher told him to cut the baby from my stomach and let me watch her die.”