Heartburn (Love By Design 3)

Whit slammed the door to his jeep and I watched him walk over to the other side tossing my bag in the back before getting in. He sat in the vehicle a full minute before starting up and driving toward his house. He’s pissed, but can I really blame him. Shame permeated my pores and I waited for him to launch into a discussion about being an adult and how drugs are bad. I knew this.

I had to lean on him to slip pants on over my boy shorts and agree to come home with him so he could as he elegantly put it, watch my immature ass detox. The words hurt and I didn’t argue back. I bit my lip and took it on the chin feeling like I deserved it. I just wanted him to stop being grumpy with me. My nerves frayed and I felt weepy. Stupid pot. Stupid feelings.

My phone was in my hands and I slid the rectangle over and over in my grasp for lack of anything better to do. I glanced over at his hard profile. I think he’s more angry about this then my parents would be, but I don’t want to test that theory anytime soon.

“Are you going to say anything?” My voice sounded meek and small. My head was loopy and foggy. I glanced at my outfit. Nothing matched. Whit dressed me but I was the one who reached for the clothes. Holey black sweatpants from Angels sported sequined wings on my ass, a gift from my mother when I was sixteen. My tank top had polka dots and the red sweatshirt was Whit’s.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.” He mumbled taking a turn a little more roughly than normal. He probably shouldn’t drive angry. I’d offer to drive, but I think he’d have a nuclear fit.

“Are you that angry?” I winced. His whole body jerked tense and unrelenting. He was more than angry. I could kick myself for going with Dinah.

“I’m going to pretend for a moment you didn’t ask me that.” His jaw clenched.

I inhaled an unsteady breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry, Whit.”

“I am too.” He said.

I turned toward him unsure what he was actually sorry for. My stomach clenched again and I focused on breathing. Clearly, I wasn’t the sort who enjoyed getting high when my body felt like this. Lesson learned the hard way.

The drive was over in no time and he escorted me inside his house. He dumped my bag on the floor and marched me over to the couch. I sat down with my hands between my knees feeling like I was in school at the principal’s office. I wondered how he planned on discipling me and I started to snicker inappropriately.

“I’d like to know what the hell is so funny.” He wasn’t laughing and the more serious he looked the harder it was for me to hold back. It was like unicorns were having a rave inside my body. Peals of laughter consumed me.

I cleared my throat wiping tears from my eyes mirroring his stern look. I lowered my voice and said, “Are you going to spank me, daddy?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake grow up, Amelia.”

“I can’t. I’m only twenty and I’m freaking hungry.” All I can think about are tacos from Burrito Barn and how we should have gone there before coming to his house.

“Are you kidding me right now?” He parked his ass on the couch next to me and hauled me up in his arms. A slight shake gets my attention, but my stomach grumbles.

“I could eat like half a dozen tacos with all the fixin’s please.” His hands roamed over my body before capturing my face in his hold. Fingers traced the lines of my eyebrows and the curve of my cheek. His eyes studied me intently before he rested his forehead against mine. He closed them before steadying his breath with several rough inhales and exhales.

Whit sounded like he was grinding his jaw as he spoke low. “I am so mad at you right now for putting yourself in danger, but all I want to do is kiss you and thank god you’re okay.”

I tried to comprehend the gravity of what he was saying but my muddled mind couldn’t focus. I didn’t know if this was normal and doubted if I’d try this again to test it out considering this occurred as an accidental potting thanks to my feckless roommate.

I palmed his face. This man was my world. “You know I love you, Whittaker Jones.” I kissed his lips, a soft press of tissue and then laid myself over his lap feeling sleepy. His hands raised letting me settle in before running through my hair with gentle acuity. I rested my head for a moment needing to think on this and drifted off discerning how wonderful he could be when he pulled the stick out of his butt.

24

Whit

She’s mad as hell eyeballing me as she sucks on the blow pop between her pouty pink lips. It’s a damn distraction when I want to have a serious conversation with her. If she doesn’t stop doing that shit with her mouth I would snatch that blow pop from her.

She’s been detoxed. Fed. Bathed. Now I wanted my peace of mind. I don’t know where she gets off giving me stink eye when she left me high and dry with a confession of her love and no way to respond.

“Well?” She said, popping the cherry red pop from her mouth. I swallowed back the air threatening to choke me like the fool I am. She’s twenty and I’m… well I’m certainly old enough to know better.

“Amelia, I’m sorry. I overreacted.” If you can call going ape shit overreacting, then yeah, sure. I had my moments to act like an idiot caveman, but I wasn’t apologizing for it.

“Whit, you made it sound like I was getting high on purpose and while I’m sure plenty of other college age students do it with no consequences themselves, I actually wasn’t doing it. Even when I tried to explain myself, you refused to listen to anything I had to say.” Her body appeared as defeated as her tone sounded.

“In my defense, you trying to explain while you’re giggling profusely and asking me to take you to the Burrito Barn for… what was it? Yeah, a half dozen tacos.”

“Okay, in retrospect that sounds way worse than it actually is because let’s face it–those tacos are banging.” Her smile disarmed me but I can’t stop the anger I’m feeling at how the entire situation occurred in the first place.

“I’m not disagreeing to the validity of the tacos deliciousness. It’s the context in which they came about.”