His possessive words—despite not wanting to hear that particular answer—she couldn’t help but feel a little thrill at them. That he didn’t want to share her when he had no problem sharing Alexa…
What did that mean? What did she mean to him?
“Why not? It would just be a one-night thing. A fling. You told me you wanted me to be more adventurous.” She sounded like a cheap floozy looking for a good time, but she’d been curious. Being with Eric, talking with him, he never delved much into his personal feelings yet he had no problem describing the various sexual escapades he’d experienced. Oh, he didn’t talk about Brandon and Alexa though there were other things. Dark stuff. Sometimes lonely stuff.
She didn’t want him to be lonely or in the dark. She wanted to share…everything with him. She wanted to be everything he could ever want in a partner. She figured by making this offer he would snap it up.
But doubt suddenly assailed her. Could she really be what he wants?
“Did we not just have a conversation about Alexa and Brandon and how I don’t want to be involved with them anymore? That entire scenario, it fucks with my head and I hate it. And then you hit me with ‘hey, let’s have a threesome’. Think about that. It makes no damn sense.” He stopped to glare at her, his jaw tight, eyes blazing with irritation, frustration. “You’re being kind of selfish, you know.”
“Me? Selfish? Oh, that’s a good one. You’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met.” She leapt to her feet, thrusting her face in his so she could glare right back at him. For good measure she poked him in the chest with her index finger, catching the wince that flitted across his face. “You keep everything locked up inside you. You come around here whenever you want, you’re never consistent. We’ll hang out, fuck around, have fun, talk a little bit and then poof. You’re gone for days until you decide to come back around again.”
Stacy stared at him. She felt as if she were in a daze. This couldn’t really be happening. She’d talked him out of not breaking up with her, and they were fighting all over again because she started it. She had to get this off her chest or she’d burst. He had to know what he was doing to her.
“I never made you any promises when we started this,” he said quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor. As if he could hardly stand to look at her.
“Thank God for that, or I’d be really crushed.” She stepped away from him. He was shutting down. She saw it in the way he behaved. The expression on his face, his body language, he was shutting her out. She may as well tell him to leave.
“If this is how it’s always going to be I should go,” he whispered. “Arguing all the time. I don’t do this kind of shit.”
She wanted to slap him upside the head. Arguing all the time—this was their first argument. And as soon as it got a little difficult he ran? She really shouldn’t be surprised. “Go then. It gets a little tough and you can’t handle it. I’ve already had my fair share of crappy boyfriends. I don’t need another one.” She waved her hand toward the door. “Go.”
He didn’t budge. Didn’t say a damn word. Just stood there with his head hanging low and frustration ripped through her.
“Leave,” she practically screamed. He looked up at her, his gaze so dark she sucked in a harsh breath. He was hurting. She could see it. But he wouldn’t let her in.
And she couldn’t help him if he didn’t tell her how he really felt.
So he left. Without a word he hustled his ass out of her apartment, didn’t even give her a backward glance and when the door clicked shut she collapsed on the couch. Beat her fist on a pillow, screamed into the cushioned back of the couch, the sound muffled. Hysterical laughter bubbled up inside her and she collapsed on her back. Stared up at the ceiling and laughed.
Better than crying, right?
She’d cried enough tears over Keith more because she felt sorry for herself than anything else. Eric, though, he was a different story.
The asshole. She was better off. She knew it. It was fun. It was a great little fling but boyfriend material? Steady, serious, she-can-see-a-future-together material? Oh, hell no.
And she didn’t even know what possessed her to tell him she wanted to have a threesome. Was she nuts? Did she really want to do it or was it some sort of desperate ploy to keep him interested? She’d meant it when she said it, but if they would’ve actually attempted such a thing would she have balked?
Probably. She’d become more adventurous since going out with Eric but maybe she wasn’t that adventurous.
Stacy sighed. She needed to take a good look at herself and figure out where she screwed up. She had the next two days off. The perfect time for a little self-reflection.
It was time for some self-reflection. And the very last place Eric needed to do such a thing was in the middle of a bar on a Saturday night.
Yet here he was, drowning his sorrows in the hard stuff. No beer for him tonight, no. He needed hard liquor to get through this crap.
Sighing, he looked up from the counter, staring at his reflection in the mirrored wall behind the bar. The wall was lined up with a multitude of liquor bottles, his face smack in the middle of a sea of them and he hated what he saw. He looked stressed, tired. There were dark circles under his eyes, his hair was a mess and he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. He looked like hell.
He felt like hell.
Polishing off his drink, he set the glass on the counter, the ice rattling within. The bartender appeared in moments, a smile on his handsome face, his eyes sparkling. Usually the sight of his eagerness reminded Eric of their one wicked moment together in the back room of the bar but tonight, he felt nothing. “Need another?”
“Sure.” Eric shrugged. Why the fuck not? He wasn’t far from his apartment. He could stagger back.
Or he could find a hot piece and fuck around for a while. Clearly he and Stacy were done. He didn’t owe her anything. Certainly not any sort of explanation for his actions.
I am such an asshole.