Page 55 of Piece By Piece

Aliena

Sebastian is staring at me weirdly throughout all of dinner but says nothing. It’s enough to set me on edge.

I know I’ve been acting like a bitch for the past few days and as much as I’d like to blame it on my period, that’s no excuse. Especially since I’ve been in uncharacteristically little pain. Usually, I get excruciating cramps, and my back aches badly enough that I’ve called in sick at work because of it, unable to move. Not this month, though.

And it’s a fucking good thing too. I don’t think I could have handled that on top of everything else. Most of all today, when I visited my parents only to learn my mother was out and my dad was pissed.

I just dropped off some groceries and cleaned a little, but the atmosphere was strained enough to drain whatever small bit of energy I had left after work. When I finally announced I’d leave, my father yelled at me, mad at me for not making dinner. Mad at my mom for being a screwup, and mad at the world because he’s lost everything.

He didn’t say all that, of course. I know him well enough that he didn’t have to.

When I’m done cleaning the kitchen, I wordlessly get onto the couch next to Seb, taking my place under his welcoming arm and watching the show he put on tonight.

We stay in silence for a few minutes, both watching the screen before a squeeze on my shoulder has me turning my head to face him. Seb’s eyes flick over my face, taking in what I know are signs of my exhaustion. I look like shit, no doubt, and his scrutiny makes me want to hide from him all the more.

“How was your day, Sweetheart?” he finally asks, his voice unbearably soft. I grit my teeth against my flood of emotions and look back at the screen. I really can’t wait for my period to be over. I hate being so sensitive.

“Fine, yours?” I reply unconvincingly.

“Boring enough. It seems that nothing is able to hold my attention when the alternative is thinking about you,” he says, bumping his shoulder against me to make us sway. It’s enough to drag a laugh out of me. God, he’s an idiot.

I tell him just that.

“I’m serious. I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he admits. I refuse to acknowledge what those words do to my heart. This isn’t some love confession, not that I would want that, anyway. We’ve both made it clear where we stood. No, this is him trying to initiate something sexual, I’m not stupid.

“What did you think about?” I go along, innuendo thick in my voice. I mean, it’s not far-fetched that he thought about me in connection to what I did just this morning. All these orgasms are bound to get to his head at one point.

Only that when I turn my head, I don’t see the expected smirk of his face. No, he looks thoughtful. Nervous, even. It’s enough to set me on edge and pull out of his embrace.

Just when I think the worst would happen and he truly was about to confess his undying love for me, he says, “It’s about what we did this morning. And all the others.” So my hunch is confirmed. Only that he still doesn’t look like the conversation is about to go where I thought it would.

“Okay,” I trail off, waiting for him to go on and bracing myself for the worst. God, is this where he tells me I should stop? That he doesn’t want me to touch him like that anymore?

No doubt sensing my unease, he softens his voice even more as he asks, “Why do you do it, Aliena?”

To say that I wasn’t expecting that question would be an understatement. If his face wasn’t so earnest, I would have laughed. As it is, it feels like my insecurities are tightening a noose around my throat, making it hard for me to answer as I try to think of why he’s talking about this.

“Because I want to,” I tell him unsurely, despite it being the truth. I’ve been wanting to touch Sebastian since the day that I met him. Wanted to hear him moan my name and come because of me. Still, my voice is unable to convey my surety of that.

Sebastian doesn’t look convinced but nods to himself. I can tell he has more to say before he opens his mouth. “Why won’t you let me touch you?” he asks slowly.

Oh, I guess he noticed that. I didn’t think he’d pay so much attention.

Truth be told, I’m scared to let him touch me. Not because I’m scared he’ll hurt me. I know he would never do that. No chance. But I’m afraid of things changing. I’m afraid that it’ll be too good and that I’ll want more, again and again.

I’ve never done that. One-night stands, yes, easy. But I live with Sebastian, for fuck’s sake. I can’t sneak out on himbefore he wakes up. Worse, I wouldn’t want to sneak out. Not when I sleep best in his arms.

So yeah, my reply would be that I’m a coward. What I end up saying is the same shitty excuse I sprouted every other time. “I’m on my period, Seb.” My voice sounds more defensive than it should be which only makes me less credible. I know he notices too.

“So what happens when that’s over?” he asks, no anger or impatience in his voice. Just curiosity and maybe a little concern. I don’t say anything, averting my gaze when his big hand comes to settle on top of my own.

“I’m not trying to pressure you,” he says.

“I know,” I interrupt him quickly.

“If you never want me to touch or kiss you, I won’t blame you for it. I’d just like to understand what we’re doing.” He pauses, sighing as his thumb caresses my cool skin. I don’t dare raise my eyes to his. “I’ve just been wondering.” He hesitates some more.

Finally, his free hand finds my chin to tilt it up, making me look at him. “You know you don’t have to do anything for me, right? I appreciate the cooking and everything else you do, of course, but those aren’t requirements for you to stay here. You don’t owe me anything.”

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