Page 92 of Don't Leave Me

“I agreed to all of this, Emily. Our relationship, everything that we’re doing, is consensual. I really don’t need this fromyou, the serial dater that’s never had a second date withanyone,” I raised my eyebrows, my voice raised.

I immediately regretted what I had said – Emily’s face dropped and she was clearly hurt. But I was angry and defensive and I was letting everything air out.

“Wow, Hana,” she raised her eyebrows at me and grabbed her coat, then stormed out of the bedroom and stomped loudly to the front door before she slammed it behind her.

Fuck!

Michael walked into the bedroom, eyes wide, with a spatula in his hand; the smell of food lingered from the kitchen.

“What was that about?”

“I told Emily about our relationship and she flipped out, saying you were controlling me,” I scoffed angrily, pacing the room.

“Why did you tell her?” he inquired; he didn’t even seem shocked.

I looked up at him and shrugged. “Because I trust her. And now she’s gone and judged me and it’s really fucking unfair,” I teared up, my voice cracking.

Michael frowned. “A lot of people don’t understand this kind of relationship, Hana. She’ll come around…just give her some time to think about it,” he assured me.

It sounded like he was used to people judging him for this. I sat on the bed and bit my lip, curious to ask him all kinds of questions.

“Does anyone know about…that part of our relationship?” I asked innocently.

He looked down at his hands and fiddled with the spatula a little bit. “No,” he answered as he looked up at me.

I nodded. “Oh.”

“I’m gonna finish making dinner. I’ll put together something for you,” he smiled sweetly, heading back to the kitchen.

I smiled and leaned back onto the bed, content but also torn – Emily and I had our disagreements in the past, but this felt bad. We always made up within a day or two, and it was usually her apologizing and pretending nothing ever happened.Is that what she’ll do this time? What did she have to tell me about her and Adam? And why was she so judgmental? Mine and Michael’s relationship isn’t that crazy…a bunch of people live this way. Why can’t she understand that this makes me happy?

I was calm and clear-headed for once since my hypomania took full force, so I began to get some reading done for some book reviews for work. Michael glided in with my phone in his hand, looking down at it with raised eyebrows.

“You have an e-mail asking for a confirmation for your interview with someone named Jessica, tomorrow at noon in Midtown?” he said as he looked up at me.

“Oh!” I jumped up. “That’s the Broadway performer I’m interviewing for work,” I chirped.

“I’ll respond and confirm,” he nodded, already typing.

I rolled my eyes. Clearly I was capable of doing it myself, but he was being pretty adamant about the no-phone/no-computer thing.

“Thank you, sir,” I smiled, being the best submissive I could be – I would have to get used to this.

He raised his eyebrows at me with a smile lingering on his face. “You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he tilted his head, then turned around and walked back into the kitchen.

I didn’t get much else reading done for the night; after dinner, I seduced Michael again, my hyper-sexuality back, much to Michael’s delight. We fell asleep in each other’s arms, my eyes heavy and my body sore, and I couldn’t have been happier.

19

Chapter 19

I slept for nine straight hours. Michael woke me up at 9 AM to remind me to take my meds, all while bringing me bed in breakfast – seriously, I thought I was supposed to be in punishment? I scarfed down my toast, eggs and strawberries while watching Michael do the same; his mouth, the way he licked his fingers and his lips…everything about him was turning me on.

After an adventurous shower with Michael, he finally gave me back my phone and Macbook a few hours early so I could get ready for my interview. It would undoubtedly be a casual and easy interview, but I still liked to prepare as much as I could to seem extra professional. I put on my favorite pair of jeans, my favorite black wedged booties, and a maroon fluffy sweater all before perfecting my make-up and hair. Michael was still messy-haired in sweats and a t-shirt while he watched me get ready.

“How are you feeling today?” he asked gently as he sat on the bed, eyeing me through the full-length mirror I was checking myself out in.

“Good,” I smiled and nodded, looking back at him quickly.

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