“Positive.”
Yes, she’s lying. “If something was wrong, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”
“Would you tell me if something was wrong?”
Snorting, I shake my head. “Probably not.”
“I’m fine, Tucker. Goodnight.”
Is she matching me? Giving what she gets. No, if that were the case, she’d have come so hard she pushed me out of her pussy again like last night.
I walk back to my room and lie on the bed, still naked. What happened between last night and now?
Running through everything in my mind, I can’t pinpoint it. Conversation at the bakery today was normal. She smiled and laughed like she normally does. Dinner was fine. We talked about our days like usual.
Did I disappoint her in bed? Didn’t I last long enough?
“Why do I fucking care? It’s not like she’s my girlfriend,” I mutter.
But I do care. And it bothers me that something is clearly wrong. Something she won’t tell me, even though she’ll let me fuck her.
After a few minutes, I get cold, and I pull on my sweatpants and a T-shirt. But I’m not sleeping. Not until my head puts together what happened to cause this type of reaction. Or, lack of one.
I don’t know how long I lay there, thinking about this, but her sobs catch my attention. Glancing at the clock, I see it’s 3:44.I’ve been thinking about someone who isn’t my girlfriend for over two hours.
“No, don’t! Don’t be gone. Wake up! Wake up!” Phoebe screams.
Jumping up, I run to her room, throwing open the door. I turn on the lights and hurry to the bed, expecting someone to be in here with her, only to find her dreaming.
“Phoebe,” I call, gently touching her arm. “Phoebe, wake up.”
She sits up quickly, gasping for air, and I want to hold her. Hug her. Console her.
But I can’t.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, panting.
Is she serious? “You were dreaming. A nightmare, I think.”
The tears on her cheeks make my chest twist and ache. She wipes at them and shakes her head. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
“What were you dreaming about? It sounded like you were terrified.”
“I’m fine. I don’t… even remember it.”
Another lie.
Sitting on the bed, I try to catch her eye, but she won’t meet my gaze. “Phoebe, are you okay?”
“Fine,” she says, forcing a smile. “Go back to bed. I’m sorry, Tucker. I... I’m sorry.”
“Do you want a glass of water or something?”
That I am more than capable of doing.
Shaking her head, Phoebe keeps the smile plastered on her face. “No, I can get it. Please, go back to bed. I really didn’t mean to disturb you.”
The way she stares at my face, just beneath my eyes, kind of disturbs me. It’s a little creepy, actually.
