Until Series(128)
“Why?” He looks at me like I just asked him to stop showering for a month. I take a deep breath.
“I don’t like it.”
“Yes, you do.” He walks across the kitchen, getting the bread out of the breadbox.
“Actually, I hate it when you do it.” I don’t really hate it, but I do find it annoying a lot of times when I’m trying to do something, and he just carries me off or moves me without giving me a chance to do what I want.
“You don’t hate it.”
“You want to know how I know you don’t hate it?” He looks at me, raising an eyebrow.
“This should be good,” I mumble, watching him make his sandwich. I’m half tempted to stop him from finishing. He doesn’t even make sure that the mayo and mustard are spread evenly on the bread; he just globs it on there. I look up when he starts laughing. “What?”
“Like this. This is killing you; I see it in your face that you want to hop off the counter, take this out of my hands, and do it yourself.”
“So?” I cross my arms over my chest.
“You don’t get your way, and you want to throw a fit.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yeah, babe. It is.”
“Whatever,” I say, as he comes to stand between my legs, pulling me closer to the edge of the counter.
“You need to learn that not everything has to be done when or how you want it done. It’s okay to give up some of the control that you try to hold onto so tightly. With me, I’m not asking, I’m telling you how it is. It doesn’t mean that I don’t respect you or care about the way you feel; it just means that you trust me enough to make sure that you’ve got what you need.”
“I’m feeling a little lost. I thought we were talking about you manhandling me.”
“We were, and we are. I told you that you don’t hate it when I tell you what to do, or put you where I want you. And the reason I know you don’t hate it is because you listen or stay where I put you every time.” Holy shit. He’s right. What the hell is wrong with me? “Now, do you want me to make you a sandwich?”
“No thanks.” I don’t want to encourage his dominant behavior. I want to go somewhere and have a tantrum.
“Okay.” He kisses my forehead, and goes back to what he’s doing with me watching. The rest of the night, I think about what he said, and my need for control. I don’t know if he knows it, but with him, I have none. When we get into bed, he pulls me under him like he always does, kisses my temple, and goes to sleep. I realize that we didn’t talk anymore after our conversation in the kitchen. Like he wanted me to think about everything that he said. I huff out a breath, determined to stop thinking about everything; he can’t be the boss of my subconscious. Then I fall asleep, thinking that I’m comfortable, warm, and safe, so maybe giving him control isn’t so bad.
Chapter 7
Trevor
I look out the double doors of our room at the resort and can see the turquoise sea beyond. There’s a slight breeze coming in off of the water, bringing the sound and smell of the ocean with it. I roll to my side; Liz is laying on her stomach, hands under her pillow, a sheet resting over her hips. My hand itches to touch her. I scrub my hands down my face, thinking about yesterday, and wondering if today is going to be better or worse.
When we arrived last night, Liz’s mom, Rita, was waiting for us in the lobby. She looked worried. I assumed she was nervous about the wedding. Then Tim walked around the corner into the lobby. When I saw him, I felt the urge to beat the shit out of him; if I hadn’t promised Liz I would be on my best behavior when I was around Tim, I would have had him face first on the very expensive tile. Instead, I bit down on the inside of my cheek, trying to check the impulse of attack. Tim walked over to our group. He avoided eye contact with me; his eyes focused on his sister. When he reached her, he picked her up and hugged her. I could hear him say something to her, but couldn’t make out the words until she told him to be nice. Tim turned towards me after he sat Liz down; that’s when I noticed the girl with him. She was small, with short black hair and big brown eyes. She looked like a pixie. The part that caught my attention was her stomach; she had to be around five months pregnant. Tim put his arm around her, pulling her close.
“Trevor.” He stuck out his hand, and I did the same. Our shake was not friendly. We were both stating that we could take the other one out. Tim was not a small guy; he played football in high school and still looked to be in shape. He pulled his hand away first, making me feel like I won that challenge.