Fighting (45 page)

I
rubbed my temples and tried to get a handle on my thoughts because I was surely
going to drive myself up the freaking wall thinking in circles.  I just needed
to let all of it go and live in the moment.  I needed to enjoy being with him
before I fucked it up and lost him.  I could practically feel him dissecting my
body language, so I stopped self-soothing and focused on the floor of dancers
instead.  They were dancing to a jukebox that was wired to speakers along the
walls, so music filled the entire restaurant.  I stared at them long enough
that Ethan knew something was up and decided to do something about it. 

He
wrapped his hand around my upper arm and pulled me up with him.  I finally
looked at him and he said, "Let's go." 

He
didn't wait for an answer and hauled me behind him to the bathroom.  He locked
us in the women's bathroom that only had one stall and released me.

"What's
wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing,"
I said immediately.  "Just the usual.  You know, Fletcher and all that
shit."

"It's
more than that."

"No. 
It's not."

"I
can almost see the wheels in your head turning.  It's so intense that your head
hurts.  I've seen you do that before, and it never means anything good,"
he said.  "Tell me.  What's wrong?"

"They're
just thoughts.  What, I can't keep anything to myself anymore?" I asked
crossly.

As
soon as I copped an attitude, he knew he was on the right path. 

"No,
but I'd like to ask you what's on your mind without you freezing me out or
ignoring me," he said, matching my agitated tone.

"I'm
not doing that," I argued.  "I'm just --"

"Hiding
something, yeah I noticed," he clipped.

He
took a step toward me and I took one back.  His face morphed into alarm. 
"Tell me what's going on,
right now
," he demanded.

I
just stared at him as I felt my control of the situation slipping through my
fingers like sand.

"Is
this about those dancers out there?" he asked bizarrely.

"What?"

"I'm
sorry I don't like to dance.  That I can't dance with you."

He
must have noticed me staring at the dance floor.  I almost rolled my eyes. 
"I don't care about dancing," I said dismissively.

"Then
tell me what the problem is so I can fix it," he said irritably.

We
were arguing all because of me and my endless thoughts.  Again.  How ironic was
it that we were fighting all because I was too afraid to tell him how much I
loved him?  Funny how I never realized how much of a coward I was until I met
the strongest person I knew.  All of it made me angry and during my internal
rant, he snapped.

"Stop
overthinking everything and just talk to me," he ordered.

"I
told you, it's nothing."

"God!"
he exploded.  "Why does it seem like I always have to fight just to get
the truth out of you?" he asked.  He ran a hand through his hair and
glowered at me.  "Why can't you just tell me how you feel?  If you can't
be honest with me, than we won't last."

At
even the hint of him breaking up with me, my entire body locked up.  I felt
paralyzed with fear and dread.  And then my body suddenly kick started to life
and I turned on my heel to flee. 

"I
have to go," I muttered.

"Don't
walk away from me," he thundered.

I
reached for the door knob and his arm suddenly sliced around my stomach and he
pulled my back against his chest.  I reflexively tried to escape but I couldn't
without actually hurting him. 

"Let
me go!"

"No." 

He
bent at the waist so my feet came completely off the ground.  He turned us
around and sat me on my feet but didn't let go, so that we were both looking in
the mirror with his face right beside of mine. 

"Ethan,"
I said anxiously.

"Everything
you said before, was that all bullshit?" he demanded.  "You said you
were mine," he reminded me.

"I
know," I said.

"Are
you taking that back?" he growled.  "Because that's the message you
send when you walk away from me.  That you're giving up."

"I'm
not giving up.  We're together.  Is that not good enough?" I snapped.

He
face betrayed how impatient he was becoming with me and the dread in my stomach
expanded.  I was pushing him away by being difficult but I didn't seem to have
control over my mouth, which made me feel sorry for myself and push him even
farther away.  I was trapped in a vicious circle of self-destruction.

Someone
banged on the door and yelled, "Go home and argue!"

His
arm that was still around me pulsed and then he released me but grabbed my hand
and pulled us from the bathroom.  We rushed past two peeved women without
apologizing.  I tried to free my hand from his but his grip tightened and he
glared at me. 

"Don't,"
was all he said.

We
made it back to our table but instead of sitting down, he looked at Brooks and
said, "We're heading back early."

Brooks
looked between our angry faces and our only half-eaten food.  "Fine. 
Drive carefully."

Ethan
practically dragged me to the car and we climbed in and drove home.  I was
angrier with myself than him, because none of it was even his fault, but that
didn't seem to matter.  I was simply angry.

He
slid to a stop on the gravel driveway and got out of the car.  I knew he would
probably carry me inside if I stubbornly stayed in my seat, so I climbed out,
too.  We walked up to the actual front door for the first time and both
realized that we didn't have a key.  I sighed and retrieved my lock pick set
from my boot and kneeled in front of the door.  I let us inside and he started
in on me again.

"You
got something to say to me?" he asked.

I
panicked for a moment, thinking he knew the core issue, but one look at his
irate face and I knew he didn't.

"Like
what?" I asked.

"Like
an explanation for why everything was so great and easy between us and now this
shit?  What's going on?  Did I do something?"

His
face was open, showing exactly what he was thinking and feeling and right then
he looked a touch vulnerable, like he was uncertain if all of this was actually
his fault.  I at least was quick to set him straight on that.

"No,
Ethan.  It wasn't something you did."  And then I realized that I admitted
that it was
something
.  He looked ready to jump on that instantly and I
rushed to say, "I already told you it's nothing!  We're fighting about
nothing
!"
I said, raising my voice again.

I
turned and walked toward our room and didn't remember what he said about me
walking away from him until I was already halfway there.  I walked through the
doorway anyway and he was right on my heels. 

"The
hell we are," he said.  "We're fighting because you can't be
straightforward with me.  Or yourself," he added.

I
faced him and balled my fists by my sides.  "I've never been dishonest
with you," I fumed, affronted that he thought I was straight up lying to
him.

Which
I kind of was.  Damn it, I hated that he was always right on the money.

"There's
something bothering you," he argued.  He stopped a few feet from me but
didn't touch me or back down.  "And I want to help you but you won't let
me!"

"I
don't need your help!"  A thought occurred to me and I pounced on it. 
"And I thought you said you would never control me.  This is your idea of
freedom?  Harassing me until I let you in?" I sneered.

He
became furious at that.  "You know I'm not trying to control you.  I'm
trying to keep you happy!"

That
made me want to cry.  Shit, why did I always fuck everything up?

I
ran a hand over my face in exhaustion.  "You
do
make me
happy," I relented, not quite able to leech the residual anger from my
voice.

"You
know how I
don't
know that?" he asked sarcastically.  "Because
you won't talk to me!"

"Fine!"
I shouted and flung my arms in the air.  "You make me happy!"

It
was not lost on me how ironic that sounded as I yelled it in anger.

"Tell
me what's bothering you and we'll work through it together," he pleaded. 
"That's how this works.  You lean on me when you need to and it goes both
ways.  But not if you refuse to let me in," he said.

"How
do you know that it has anything to do with you at all?" I challenged. 
"Maybe it's completely unrelated to you."

"Because
you practically jumped a foot in the air when I touched you earlier and I'm
done with that.  You shying away from my touch is in the past, babe, and I
refuse to go back to that," he sharply.  "Add in the fact that you
wouldn't even look at me and I'm going to assume I'm the problem," he
reasoned.

Guilt
assaulted me and I wanted to rewind the evening and take my own freaking advice
of letting all of it go and living in the moment. 

"It's
not you," I said.

"If
you say that it's you, I might lose my mind," he threatened mildly.

"That's
not what I meant," I bit out.  "It's stupid that we're fighting about
this at all!"

"If
you refuse to work on this with me, how are we going to last?" he asked. 
"If you can't even meet me in the middle?"

Tears
threatened and he saw them pool in my eyes. 

He
finally walked closer to me and put gentle hands on my jaw.  "Please let
me in."

It
was either tell him or lose him.

I
swallowed thickly.  "I'm in . . . " 

"Say
it," he said.

"God,
you're going to think I'm such a fool," I whispered.

"No,
I won't.  I promise," he said quietly.

"You
know how I get when I think too much," I grumbled.  He nodded his head and
brushed his thumbs under my jaw once in encouragement.  "There are certain
things I want to tell you but I feel like I can't because I don't want to . . .
push you away."

"Like
what?"  I didn't answer him but I did let him see the fear I felt.  He
recognized it and got even closer so that our chests were touching.  "Like
what, baby?" he asked softly.

I
swallowed nervously, wrapped my palms around his wrists, and went all in. 
"I'm in love with you," I breathed out. 

His
hands pulsed and his head ticked to the side as if that was the last thing he
expected me to say.  "You love me?" he rumbled softly.

I
nodded and his hands wrenched me to him and he kissed me hard.  Well, that was
better than him running from the room, so I guess so far so good.

My
arms automatically wrapped around his back as I kissed him back, elated that I
wasn't rejected and we weren't fighting anymore.  He pulled away but quickly
picked me up and tossed me onto the bed.  I was still bouncing when he landed
on top of me and he didn't waste any time.  He slipped his hips between mine
and kissed me firmly and fervently enough that I knew this wasn't a lazy make
out session.  This was actually going somewhere.  I tugged on his shirt and he
knifed up on his knees to whip it off and then do the same with mine.  He
glanced down my body and landed heavily on his hands by my shoulders, hovering
over me.

"Too
fast," he muttered breathlessly.  "Too fast," he repeated to
himself.

He
stayed on his knees but leaned down and purposely slowed the pace of our kiss
down so that he was still kissing me earnestly, but slowly enough to relish
each other without knocking teeth or getting too out of breath.  I ghosted my
hands all over his chest and between his shoulder blades as he trailed one hand
from the side of my breast all the way down my side to my knee, which he bent
and pressed against his hip.  I lifted my hips to press against his and I felt
his excitement and his voice vibrate against me. 

His
hand traveled around to my back and unclasped my bra.  It loosened and he
pushed away slightly to draw it away from my body.  He watched his hand close
around one bare breast and then watched my face as he pinched my nipple lightly
and I made a weak keening noise and closed my eyes tightly.  As soon as he
released me, I felt his breath there and then he was kissing it.  My hips
lifted of their own accord and my hands feathered through his hair to yank
without my consent. 

He
ran his tongue over my sensitive nipple and switched to my other breast as his
hand coasted down my body and didn't hesitate to press his fingers in against
my jeans.  My voice hummed heavily with my exhale and he licked a path between
my breasts toward my neck, like the very first time we were together.  He took
my mouth again and I redirected all of my energy to kissing him back as hard as
I could, trying to communicate how much I felt, how much he meant to me through
that, alone.