“You’re just scared and you have to get over it. Especially if you even want to think about having kids one day. You know you need to have sex to do that right?”
My jaw falls slack. “I’m notscared!” I huff, pulling my clothes back on and combing through my hair that he mussed.
“Well, sure seems like it.”
“Because I don’t want to do anything more than kiss tonight?!”
He huffs. “Whatever.” He shakes his head, busying himself on his phone. I sit down on the other end of the couch and wait for him to finish whatever he’s doing.
We sit in silence for a solid minute.
“Brantley?”
“Hmm?” he hums, not lifting his gaze from his phone. I was anticipating him apologizing for being a jerk, but he isn’t.
“Are we just not going to talk now or…?”
“I guess not.”
I scoff and stand up, frustration bubbling in my blood. I’m not gonna sit here in silence all night because he’s being a child about not getting what he wants.
As I walk out through the dark house, I glance at the time on the microwave. It’s only six thirty. If I leave now I’ll be home at seven fifteen, and that isn’t normal, not when I don’t haveto be home until midnight.
So much for being proud of myself for coming over, for combating my anxiety for this. I was on a happiness high and I hate that he ruined it. It’s like me being here wasn’t enough in itself.
I start driving home, trying to figure out what I’ll tell my parents when they ask why I’m home so early. I hate lying, I never lie. But something like this…I just want to keep to myself.
I call Wesley, figuring I can see what he’s up to and maybe buy some time before heading home.
As I wait for him to pick up, I remind myself not to dump my relationship problems on him. I’ve been doing so good, I can’t kill my momentum.
“What’s up?” he asks with a relaxed tone, as if I always call him.
“Are you doing anything fun?”
“Guys are over. You’re welcome to join, we’re not drinking.”
I smile to myself. “Yeah? Well maybe—”
“Wait. Isn’t your anniversary tonight?”
“Yeah. I’m driving home now from Brantley’s house.” I stay casual.
“Oh. You feel okay?”
“Yeah. I was fine, it was good.”
“Good.”
The silence between us is weird for a minute but I hear his friends and music in the background.
I start. “Anyway, I can let you go. I just—”
“You sure you’re okay?”
My cheeks burn. I never should’ve called; I can’t lie to savemy life. “I’m good,” I say.
“No, you’re not. You don’t sound right but you’re trying to.”
