I wasn’t referring to the scrimmage because anyone calling about a football scrimmage wouldn’t get the response ‘Don’t call me on this phone.’
Weston came over to the bed and knelt. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. We didn’t have a relationship to justify my questioning. So, instead of questioning him about the call, I questioned him about me.
“Should I be concerned about how strange you’re being with me right now?”
It sounded stupid, but a part of me knew it was a valid question that should be voiced.
He shook his head. “Don’t, I’d never hurt you.”
I scanned his face, looking for the telltale signs of a liar. Shifting eyes, twitchy eyes brows, trembling lips, or sweaty brow. He had none of them. So, either he was a good liar, or I sucked at spotting one.
“New rule,” he offered.
I nodded for him to continue.
“From now on, when one of us has a question, we voice it. No matter how weird and awkward,” he told me. “We’re open books, okay?”
“Okay,” I agreed.
He had now opened Pandora’s box. Because I had a host of questions for him.
“Ask me anything,” he offered.
I paused for a moment before replying, “I have nothing to ask.”
Yet. I was going to do my research first. Half the battle was asking the right questions.
“Nothing?” Weston raised his eyebrows in suspicion.
I nodded and repeated, “Nothing.”
He studied my face. It was his turn to play spot the liar. If he knew me better, I’d say he could tell I was planning something.
Perhaps I was more of an open book than I originally thought. Maybe he could tell I was holding back because the next words out of his mouth was: “See, this is why I wanted the chance to know you. You don’t let bullshit go. I think that’s why we get along.”
“So, you admit the phone call thing was bullshit? Which is something you promised not to do, by the way.”
He raised his brow, impressed. “I wouldn’t call it bullshit. It was more of a… protective thing. That call is one of the reasons why my relationships don’t work out.”
“Right.” I nodded. “Your inability to give your partner what they need.”
“Inability to give them everything they need,” he corrected.
I let out a dry laugh. “I think I get it now.”
“Well, do share.” He gestured his hand for me to continue.
“You put up walls because you’re doing something you don’t like to be challenged on. I don’t think it's to protect your partner, Weston. I think you’re just trying to protect you. You’re bullshitting and you don’t even know it. Trust me, I’m the queen of BS.”
Weston blinked. A quick chuckle escaped his lips, but it sounded forced and breathless. He didn’t reply for a few minutes. I pulled my blanket closer around me as I waited for what he’d say next.
“Is that so much of a problem?” he finally asked, after taking a deep breath. His fingers combed through his hair. “Not wanting to hurt someone or be hurt?”
I shook my head. “It’s not a problem. But, from my experience… your kind of compartmentalization isn’t stable. And honestly, not knowing parts of you is concerning.”
“I told you I’m an open book,” he reminded me.
“I know. And I’ll ask when I have the right questions.”
