“I never asked you to save me from shit.”
“But I did Lincoln!”
“Why the fuck are we fighting about this right now?!” he barks.
“Because you ruined everything from lying!!! You made it seem like you were—”
“You're going to bring that shit up right now? You selfish fucking person.”
“Yes, I'm going to bring it up right now! What? Is it really that hard for you to be honest?” I urge.
“Honest about what?”
“Oh my God,” I throw my hands up. “You know what don't worry about it. I've asked you six ways till Sunday why you're angry at me; why you were that infuriated. Bro, you never slapped me before like that.”
“I have slapped you before.”
“I'm not talking about the light little slapping that we used to do with sex. You bitch slapped me in my face!”
“What do you want, for me to apologize?” he asks, rolling his eyes, zero remorse whatsoever.
“I want you to behonest!!!! Just foroncein your fucking life be honest! I come in this morning and it's like I did something personally to grieve you and I don't, to this moment, know what the hell it is that I did!!” I yell in desperation.
“It's because…!” he starts but then stops, his jaw working as if he's fighting it.
Quietly I await his answer, not wanting to spook him.
Both of our chests are rising and falling hard.
“Because… I'm angry.”
“I getthatmuch,” my eyes widen, waiting for him to say anything else but the obvious.
He takes in a shaky breath, still not looking at me. “I'm angry because I messed up… and now… and… we fucked each other.”
“You're angry because we fucked each other?” I ask, confused.
“I'm angry because we fucked each other… and… and you're fucking someone else.”
Instantly my face softens. It's one of those strange feelings when you don't even realize that your face was tense or wearing a tight expression.
Lincoln still doesn't look at me.
I can't help but smile, something that seems to catch him off guard and causes him to look over at me frowning.
“Glad you find it so fucking funny,” he mumbles angrily.
“I haven't slept with anyone else. Not since you and I slept together anyway.”
“I'm proud of you that you haven't slept with anyone since this morning.”
“That's not what I mean Lincoln,” I chuckle. “You were mad at me for something I didn't even do.”
“Then where were you?” he inquires as he stares over at me.
His eyes are dark but yet hollow at the same time, as if whatever is eating at him finally scraped the last layer away, leaving nothing behind.
“I was with someone. Yes. I was on a date.”
