She didn’t notice me until I was in line with her vision, and she did a double take while my eyes zeroed in on the cake right by her side on the kitchen counter.
My stomach—something was wrong with my stomach.
“I love the shirt,” she said with a genuine, surprised smile, putting her phone away.
“Thank you,” I said, ignoring the cake and the feeling it evoked, before moving to the whiskey collection on the shelf, turning away from her as I got a glass and a bottle.
When I turned, she was rounding the counter and putting her arms around me in a hug that warmed me and relaxed the muscles the water in the tub and my connection with the ground had made tight.
“I’ve missed you. Happy birthday,” she said. The smile and brightness in her voice made me feel even heavier than before.
“Hm.”
She pulled away to look up at me as I dropped the items in my hand on the counter.
“You didn’t hear me say that on the phone when it was midnight? I wanted to be the first to wish you a happy birthday.”
“Very thoughtful,” I responded, pouring myself a drink as silence reigned. Finally, she sighed.
“What’s going on, Elio?” she asked, and I glanced at her, noting a bit of confusion, anticipation, and a little excitement as she spoke. “Are you mad because I didn’t text you? If you are, there’s a reason for that. Aside from being on the flight and having it delayed by an hour, we arrived back at the condo you rented for us, and Milk and I had to get things from the store while we tried to help Dog bake a cake. I told Street it was your birthday, and Dog saw it as a good opportunity to bake. It was chaos in the kitchen, and then we had to let the cake cool for hours after it was done baking, and then we decorated it—I helped with the whole thing and it took great efforts and you need to try it, I—”
“It looks wonderful,” I cut in, holding the whiskey glass and taking a sip as I eyed the cake and then her.
She was looking right at me, eyebrows brushed; eyes brighter due to the light color she had applied; her lips were glossed, and she looked terrific—she’d taken her time to lookamazing for this—but my mouth spoke before my head. “I see the efforts you made with the cake, and I appreciate it, but I am not very keen to eat it. Not because I do not think it will be good, but because I am not in the mood.”
The anticipation and excitement in her eyes vanished like I had squashed it.
She sighed. “This is the first time we’re seeing each other in a month. Why are you acting like this?” Apprehension laced her tone. “Did something happen?”
“No.” The sip I had taken of whiskey was enough to make me realize that I didn’t need a drink, so I put it down.
“Clearly, something is wrong.”
“What gave you that notion?”
She waved her hand as if trying to gather my aura. “This, all of this. You’re too… straight.”
I tilted my head, confused. “I am straight.”
“That’s not what I mean. You’re too bland and off—You’re acting like you don’t want me here.”
“Maybe I don’t.”
Fuck. That was supposed to stay in my head—those three words were supposed to remain in my head, not fall from my mouth because I do want her here, I do, but I just don’t want her to see me like… this, and the way her eyes widened, looking like I had slapped her with my words, had me completely frozen on the spot.
I’d hurt her feelings.
She shook her head, looking away from me as she walked back around the counter and grabbed her purse from a kitchen stool. “You can throw away the cake if you don’t want it or whatever you do to things you don’t want.” With that, she made her way out of the kitchen, her footsteps getting fainter and fainter.
My common sense was working very slowly today, and it took me seconds too long to make my body move and chase after her.
She was almost at the door and out of the house when I caught onto her wrist, and she spun around, her bag swinging and getting me right in the nose.
It stung, and I held it immediately, the pain sending warmth to my eyes.
A sharp gasp left her, and she dropped the bag to the floor instantly, eyes wide. “What the fuck! Oh my God, I didn’t hear your footsteps—Are you bleeding?”
“One—one moment.”
