This Man(179)

He appears at the wardrobe door. ‘I need to go.’ he utters regretfully. He looks completely tormented. ‘Kate’s on her way over.’

I frown. ‘Why?’

‘So you don’t leave.’ He goes back into the wardrobe, me following swiftly behind.

Pulling some jeans on, he looks up at me briefly but gives nothing away. He grabs a black t-shirt from a hanger, pulling it on over his head quickly, before he sets about getting his Converse on.

‘I’m going home.’ I assert, but he still doesn’t look at me. What’s wrong with him? I can feel my temper flaring at his lack of receptiveness, and not knowing what else to do, I start pulling down my clothes from the hangers, draping them over my arms as I do.

‘What are you doing?’ He takes them from my hands, hanging them back up. ‘You’re not leaving.’ he growls.

‘Yes, I am.’ I shout, yanking them back down.

‘Put the fucking clothes back, Ava!’ he yells.

I hear a rip of material as I fight him away, and within a few seconds, my arms are free of clothes and I’m being hauled from the wardrobe. I’m pinned to the bed, struggling against him in complete defiance, but I go nowhere. If he tries to fuck me, I’ll scream!

‘Calm the fuck down!’ he yells, grabbing my jaw and pulling it to the centre so I have to look at him. I slam my eyes shut, puffing and panting like an exhausted greyhound. I’m not going to let him manipulate me with sex. ‘Open your eyes, Ava.’

‘No!’ I sound so childish, but I know if I do, I’ll be swallowed up in lust.

‘Open!’ He shakes my jaw slightly.

‘No!’

‘Fine,’ he shouts, while I continue to struggle. ‘Listen to me, lady. You’re not going anywhere. I’ve told you repeatedly, so get fucking use to it!’ He shifts his body so he has a firmer grip of me. ‘I’m going to The Manor, and when I get back, we’re going to sit down to talk about us.’

I stop struggling. Talk about us? What? Like a proper discussion about what the hell is going on here because I’m desperate to know this.

‘Cards on the table, Ava. No more fucking about, no more drunken confessions and no more holding out on me. Do you understand?’ His breathing is heavy, his tone determined.

This is what I’ve wanted all along – clarity and understanding of our relationship. I’m so bloody confused. I need to know what all this is and then, maybe, I can work out whether I need to break away. And what’s this about drunken confessions and holding out?

I open my eyes to sludgy green gazing down at me. He relaxes his grip on my jaw. ‘Come with me, I need you with me.’ He’s almost pleading.

‘Why?’

‘I just do. Why won’t you come?’

I take a deep breath. ‘I don’t feel comfortable.’ There, that’s the truth. He should be able to figure out for himself why I don’t feel comfortable at The Manor. He can’t be that stupid.

‘Why don’t you feel comfortable?’

Okay. Maybe he is that stupid. ‘I just don’t.’ I snap.

His brow knits and he commences lip chomping. ‘Please, Ava.’

I shake my head. ‘I’m not coming.’

He sighs. ‘Promise me that you’ll be here when I get home then. We need to sort this shit out.’

‘I’ll be here.’ I assure him. I’m desperate to sort this shit out. I’m not going anywhere.

‘Thank you.’ he whispers, resting his forehead on mine and clenching his eyes shut. I feel immense hope blossoming inside me at his determination to sort this shit out. He lifts himself, without so much as kissing me, and leaves the room.

I stay on the bed, recovering from my pointless physical battle, wondering what’s going to be established from the laying of cards and sorting of shit. I’m torn between admitting to him how I feel, or waiting to hear what he has to say first. What will he say? So much needs clarifying. What is us? Intense hot affair or more? I need it to be more, but I can’t cope with his trampling and unreasonableness. It’s exhausting.

There was no denying the look of pure torment on his handsome face. What’s running through that complex mind of his? Why does he need me? So many questions…

I close my eyes, trying to re-establish some steady breaths, and find myself drifting into a semi-exhausted coma.

The phone next to the bed starts ringing, snapping my eyes open. Kate! I scramble up the bed and answer. ‘Send her up, Clive.’ I fling a t-shirt on and run down the stairs, throwing the door open as Kate exits the elevator. I’m so glad to see her, but why he thinks I need babysitting is beyond me. I run at her, flinging my arms around her desperately.