But still, he wants to have a conversation. I can level with him. "I told you months ago. Almost the first day we met I didn’t do relationships. I agreed to be your boyfriend when you asked because I knew it would help you feel better."
"Ouch." Rhys’s chin reels back. "You agreed to be my boyfriend out of pity?"
"No, that’s not. I didn’t mean…" My hands settle at my hips and my head falls forward. "I don't know how to do this."
"Do what?" He asks quietly.
"Fight with you! Fight withanyone!" The surprise in Rhys’s eyes at my volume is enough to help me rein in it. "I can’t process what I’m feeling while I’m considering what you’re thinking too. Just when I think I’m going to say something you’ll understand, your reaction is the opposite of what I thought it’d be and…" My arms fall lightly to my sides and I shrug. "Maybe, I’m not cut out for this."
My chest deflates. I’m standing in a half apron with the words "Eat Me" over my, also deflated, cock. Tonight was supposed to be a fun dinner followed by fucking until dawn.
Not, heavy conversation with an undercurrent of doom.
"So, are we breaking up?" Rhys asks quietly bringing the doom right up to the surface.
Are we?
I don’t want that. But, I don’t know how to make anything more work with him.
I’m just not cut out for it.
But, it did work before. Before we named it. Had labels. Had the pressure of how we’re going to share our relationship with the world.
"Can we just go back to friends-with-benefits?" I beg. I’m not ready to lose him but I’m clearly not ready for a relationship either.
Without a word, Rhys stands from his seat at the counter. I watch as he woodenly cleans off his plate and puts it in the dishwasher. He dries his hands on the towel hanging off the handle and then wipes them down the front of his jeans.
I’m frozen to the spot.
My job is to anticipate moves, to see them coming miles away, and react in milliseconds.
I have no idea what is going to happen next.
Rhys starts to walk toward me slowly and there’s an undeniable urge to curl up in his lap like a kitten and let him soothe the parts of me that feel jagged and sharp.
"I don’t know if I can do that." He finally says as he comes to stand in front of me.
He can’t go back to being friends-with-benefits.
"So then what?" I whisper.
"I guess we’re done." His words are quiet but they shatter what is left inside me like sonic booms.
"Done?"
"Or on pause. I don’t know Duncan. I’m not sure we can be what the other needs right now."
"Okay." The word slips out before I have a chance to reel it in. I’m not okay. This is not okay.
He’s leaving.
He was always going to leave.
This is different.
He’s leavingme.
Rhys pulls me into his arms and we wrap each other in an embrace that does little to fill the gaping hole in my core.
