by S. M. Shade
“Is this the one where the chick pretends she’s screwing all the guys in school?”
“Yeah, it’s funny.” Maybe twenty minutes passes before Becca slides down and lays her head in my lap. It’s her usual move when we watch TV together, but it doesn’t usually feel like my crotch is being attacked by bees when her head brushes it. I manage to bite back the sound that tries to escape me.
She turns her head and sits up. “What’s that smell?”
Oh no. No, no, no.
“I don’t smell anything.” That’s right, Denton. Just lie. What could possibly go wrong?
A smile breaks across Trey’s face, and I send him my best “don’t you fucking dare glare”.
“Probably Dent’s diaper.”
“Fuck off, Trey.” The words barely get through my gritted teeth.
Becca sniffs again, looks at the cheesy grin on Trey’s face and the frown on mine. “What’s going on?”
Sighing, I lay my head back, wondering if it’s too late to make a run for that bridge like I planned earlier. “I have a rash, and that asshole gave me some ointment for it.”
“Diaper rash ointment,” Trey adds.
“A rash? Is it an allergic reaction to something? The new soap I bought?” Her brow wrinkles with concern.
“No, the new guy didn’t roll a window up on one of the cars at work today, so when I sat in it, my shorts got soaked. Apparently, running around in wet shorts all day gave me a rash.”
Understanding dawns on her face. “Oh, I’ve had that from running in hot weather before. Where my thighs rub together. It’s no big deal.”
She settles against my side and we return to the movie. Trey gets a surreptitious middle finger. Bastard just couldn’t wait to tell her. All thoughts of saying I love you tonight are out of the question. I wanted to follow it up by making love to her, not scratching and trying not to get ointment on my sheets.
When we do go to bed, she wears a tiny pair of sleeping shorts and a camisole, and after hesitating a minute, I strip off everything. Screw it. I’ll wash the sheets or buy new ones if it stains. I’m not going to deal with the material rubbing my skin all night.
“Wow,” she says, and I flip off the light before she can get a long look.
“I told you it was pretty widespread,” I grumble, stretching out on my back.
“You didn’t say it was bright enough to glow in the dark.” Her head lands on my shoulder, and her soft lips find mine for a brief second. “That’s got to hurt.”
“Nah, it just feels like someone threw a yellow jacket nest at my crotch. No big deal.”
Giggling, she curls up beside me, careful to avoid the affected areas. “You have the worst luck when it comes to your balls.”
“I’m absolutely feeling sorry for myself right now, and as a supportive girlfriend, you should feel sorry for me too.” I stick my lip out, and she smiles in the dim light.
“Poor baby.”
“That’s better.” I pull her closer, and close my eyes, ready to leave this day behind me.
“Good night. Love you.”
Time screeches to a halt, and I feel her entire body turn to stone beside me. Did she just say that?
“Sorry,” she says quickly. “I didn’t mean to…it just sort of came out. I know we haven’t been together long and—”
I stop her words with a searing kiss, then rest my forehead against hers. “Did you mean it?”
She nods.
“Rebecca, I have been agonizing over whether to tell you I love you for days. I didn’t want to move too fast and freak you out.”
Her voice is barely above a whisper. “You love me?”
“I love you.”
Silence reigns until she says. “It really sucks that we can’t have sex right now.”
We’re both able to laugh at the situation. “Once we’re both feeling better, we’ll make up for it,” I promise.
Chapter Thirteen
Becca
A soft kiss on my forehead wakes me. “See you this afternoon,” Denton says. “I have to hit the library for a couple of hours after class.”
Rolling over, I pull my legs up, trying to lessen the cramps already ramping up for the day. “Have a good day.”
I doze back off for a few minutes until my bladder insists it’s time to get up. After popping a couple painkillers, I crawl back in bed and prop myself on pillows. Until the painkillers stop the massacre in my uterus, my plan is to lie here and play on my phone. Then maybe I’ll go grab some donuts. Chocolate covered ones.
My mind keeps drifting back to last night and my little slip up. Denton said he’d been agonizing over when to say I love you, and I’ve been doing the same thing. And for the same reason; I know it’s early. But if you love someone, I can’t see the point in hiding it just because of some arbitrary, unwritten timeline we all seem to think exists.
A small smile creeps onto my face.
He loves me.
After playing around online for a while, I stretch out, and finally drag my ass out of bed. Today is a yoga pants and a tee shirt day for sure. After getting cleaned up and halfway presentable, I reach to turn the lamp off and knock a cup off the nightstand on Denton’s side. It clatters down between the bed and the table.
At least it was empty, and I didn’t splash anything on the thick file folder which rests on the bottom shelf. Denton guards that thing like it’s gold so it must hold his thesis work. A paper sticks out of the top, and I recognize the lines drawn around the edge.
I pick up the folder, open it, and sure enough, it’s the picture I drew of him while he was sleeping. I forgot all about it. I didn’t even realize he’d seen it.
When I go to put it back, a few words on the next page jump out at me.
Dreams in Ink: Marketing a Small Business from its Launch.
What the hell?
I lift the sheet which is clearly a title page, and a wave of nausea washes over me as I read it. Listed in stark black ink is every detail about my tattoo shop. Every statistic from my social media accounts, plus pictures of different ads that I ran on them.
There are paragraphs describing the business and all the ways it was failing. Step by step, it lays out the plan to promote Dreams in Ink. All the things Denton has advised me to do and the result of each endeavor.
Everything. From the very beginning when he told me my website was an abomination. There’s even a picture and description of the shitty website and the improvements that were made.
I don’t know how long I sit there, flipping through the pages of what I now recognize as a presentation he plans to give. A presentation on my business that he’s never even mentioned. He has all the proprietary information down to my damn sales figures, repeat clients, and taxes, and it’s clear he planned to publicly present this without even running it by me.
Oh god.
Anger is joined by despair as a realization settles in. This is why he was so eager to help from the beginning. He didn’t care about me or whether my shop was successful. He wasn’t concerned that I was struggling to make rent or tuition. It was all for this project.
Tuition.
I let him talk me into dropping out of school, buying a business that will take me twenty years to pay off, giving up the plan I’d always had because he made the choice seem so clear.
All along, he just needed a project to land that internship. He used me to further his own career.
What happens once he gets the internship? Is he only planning to stay with me until he doesn’t need me anymore? Because he had to know I’d find out about this, even after the fact.
Christ, is any of it real?
My body jerks at the sound of the front door closing. It’s just Trey leaving. I have to get out of here before Denton gets home. I need to think.
I make a quick call to Sasha, and a few minutes later, I have a bag packed and I’m standing on her doorstep. She yanks the door of her small, one bedroom apartment open and practically yanks me inside.
“What is going on? You weren’t making much sense on the phone.” I debated what to do with the folder, but in the end, I just took a couple pictures of the info and left it sitting open on the bed. The second he gets home, he’ll know that I know.
Sasha stares wide eyed while I describe what I found and what I think it means. She scrolls through the pictures, shaking her head. “What a dick. All my clients and sales are in here too.”
“Yeah, as far as I could tell, it’s every scrap of information he’s gathered about Dreams in Ink.”
“And he never said a word? Never asked if he could use it?”
Flopping on her couch, I shake my head. “I knew he had all the information. I gave it to him because he was helping. And hell, it was working. I just thought…I didn’t know it was for a project.” I rub away a stubborn tear that just wouldn’t stay put. “I didn’t know I was a project.”
Sasha sits beside me. “Bex, if he’d asked, would you have been okay with it?”
It takes me a second to consider my answer. “Yes, I would have. I would’ve wanted to help him in return for all he’s done. I’ve been trying to think of a way to repay him.” Leaning my head back against the couch, I stare at the ceiling, fighting back the tears that keep threatening. “He didn’t have to do it this way. He said he loved me last night. I mean, I blurted it out first, but I still thought he meant it.”
Sasha tilts her head and studies me for a moment. “Becca, he screwed up. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.”
“I was a project!”
“Your business was a project.” She eyes my purse which has the end of a tampon sticking out, caught between the zipper. Because I’m just that classy when I’m in a hurry to get the hell away. “Girl, you know I’m completely on your side, but I have to ask. Do you think you might be overreacting just a little bit because it’s shark week?”
I stop to consider it. Yeah, I’m an emotional mess right now, but how much is hormones and how much is heartbreak, I honestly can’t tell. “I don’t know, maybe,” I mumble. “I don’t know what to think.”
Sasha gives me a warm hug. “Let me tell you what I think. He screwed up, royally. Giving him access to all that information didn’t give him permission to use it that way, and you have every right to be pissed.” She holds up a finger. “But, I don’t think it has anything to do with his feelings for you. You let him in the business stuff way before you started messing around, didn’t you?”
Thinking back for a moment, I realize she’s right. We were babysitting at Veronica’s when he looked at my website, pronounced it awful and ran with the changes. “Yeah. It was before.” I rub my head that’s now pounding after all the effort not to cry.
Sasha glances at the clock. “Listen, I only have two clients scheduled today. I’m going to go take care of them, then I’ll come back and we can eat chocolate, watch movies, and berate the lesser gender together all night. Elijah can handle the walk-ins.”
“That sounds good.”
“In the meantime, make yourself at home. There’s a heating pad in my closet if you need it. Binge watch, take a nap, try not to overanalyze everything.”
Chuckling, I shake my head at my friend. “You know me too well.”
She gets to her feet with a grin. “Yep. Which is why I’d also advise you not to argue with him today. Just tell him you’re staying with me tonight.”
“So, I can’t call him a lying prick?”
“Not when you aren’t sure if it’s your ovaries talking. Are you going to be okay for a few hours?”
“Yeah, I won’t do anything stupid. Go to work.”
“I’d call in sick, but my boss is a total bitch,” she says, and I chuck a throw pillow at her.
After Sasha leaves, I curl up on her couch with some mindless sitcom droning in the background. My mind races trying to figure out what I should do, but I do my best to push down all the panic that wants to grab hold.
I knew it was a mistake to date someone I lived with, now I’ve painted myself into a corner where I don’t want to go home.
No matter how I look at things, I come to the same conclusion. I’m in love with Denton, but I don’t know whether to believe he loves me anymore. My last boyfriend dated me just to have a place to stay. He used my feelings for him to get what he needed.
This feels awfully familiar.
My exhausted brain has had enough, and I finally doze off into the land of stress dreams.
It takes me a moment to figure out where I am when I wake, and I see five new texts and multiple missed calls on my phone. Oh yeah, I’m in the middle of a bunch of drama, I almost forgot.
Not ready to read Denton’s messages yet, I look at Sasha’s.
Sasha: I assume you’re napping since you aren’t answering your phone. Denton keeps calling here. Five bucks says he shows up.
The next text came twenty minutes later.
Sasha: Guess who just left. He’s really frantic trying to find you.
Still putting off reading Denton’s, I text her back.
Me: Sorry, fell asleep. Did you tell him where I am?
Sasha: He knows you’re safe at my place, but not where I live.
Me: Thanks.
Sasha: Are you going to call him?
The phone lies heavy in my hand as I consider her question. My gut instinct is to avoid him until I can sort out my raging emotions, but I’ve learned avoidance isn’t usually the way to deal with things. I don’t want to be immature about this. I’ll just be honest.
Me: Yes, I’ll call him.
I get a thumb up emoji in return. I take a deep breath and look at Denton’s texts.
Denton: Becca, pick up.
Denton: I can explain. Just please answer your phone.
Denton: I was going to tell you. I’m sorry.
Yeah, when was he going to tell me? Because I know his last interview is coming up, and he’s had to be working on this for months. His other texts are similar, asking where I am and for me to talk to him.
My hand shakes as I call him back.
He answers before the first ring has even finished. “Becca.”
“Yeah, it’s me.” Duh, like he doesn’t know.
“Where are you?”
“At Sasha’s place.”
He sighs. “I’m sorry. I was going to tell you. The final interview also required a project and since we’d been working on promoting your business, I just thought it was a good opportunity. I should have asked you.”
“Why didn’t you? Did you think I’d say no?” Because that would mean he knew I wouldn’t like it and did it anyway. I’m no stranger to the tactic that it’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission. It’s a shitty thing to do.
“No, I just…the project was supposed to be a plan to revive a failing business. I didn’t think you’d like your shop being described that way. We were just getting to know each other.”
The thing first and foremost in my head brings about my next question. I need to know if I’ve been manipulated because it sure feels that way. “When you encouraged me to quit school and buy the building, were you already working on the project?”
His silence is deafening.
“And when you kissed me?” My voice wavers.
“I kissed you because I wanted to, because I liked you. And everything after that, us getting together, had nothing to do with the project.”
Except it made me let down my guard and hand over whatever he wanted without a second thought. When I remain silent, he adds, “Just come home so we can talk about it.”
“Not tonight. I need some time to think. I’m going to spend the night at Sasha’s. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Rebecca.” I hate the pleading in his voice, but I remind myself that my ex did the same thing when he realized I was close to kicking him out.
“Just give me some space tonight, Denton.”
“Okay. I love you.”
I want to believe that’s true more than I’ve
ever wanted anything.
Sasha bursts through the door early that evening carrying a pizza and a box of donuts. She gazes down at me curled up on the corner of the couch. “Well, you look like shit.”
Laughter bursts through my lips, and I get to my feet to take the box of donuts before they fall.
“I guess the talk with Denton didn’t go well.”
Shrugging, I flop back onto the couch. “I told him I needed some time to think.”
“What’s his excuse?”
“He was going to tell me.”
Sasha scoffs. “That’s the best he can do?” She drops beside me, puts the box of donuts between us, flips open the lid, and grabs one. Then she shoves the box towards me. “At least you know he’s not a good liar. Anyone should have come up with a better excuse.”
Choosing a chocolate covered donut, I nod. “True. I don’t want to talk about him right now, okay? I’ve already been arguing with myself and driving myself crazy all day.”
“Okay, I won’t bring him up again.”
“Good.”
“Except for this one thing.” Sighing, I sit back and take another bite. Chocolate always helps. It’s a fact of life. “We both know you and I have similar trust issues, so it should mean something that I think he really cares about you. I don’t know why he was stupid enough to do that behind your back, but I don’t think it means he doesn’t love you.”
“Did he ask you to plead his case?”
She rolls her eyes. “No, but he was really upset. I don’t think he’d care so much if you were only a project, as you said before.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good. Now, let’s pick a movie.”
The night away may not have helped me sort my thoughts out the way I had hoped, but it showed me one thing. I’d miss him. If I let this break us up, if I found another place to live, I’d really miss him and probably regret not giving him another chance if I’m being honest.