Page 73 of Fervency Love

When it stops, he says, “Try to imagine being in my place, Abby. Think what you would have done…” He pauses and adds, “You have to prove that I can trust you now.”

It’s a bit of a pity he doesn’t tell me how to do it.

“You need to come up with something. It’s going to get worse if you don’t.”

What the hell is he on about? How am I supposed to prove he can trust me?

“You want to keep seeing me?”

“Of course. If it’s going to get better, we need to keep seeing each other, no?” he says coldly.

“Alright. I need to go now, but maybe you’d like to come over later?”

“I’m supposed to come get you?” he asks incredulously.

“You didn’t seem to mind before.”

“Well, now I do!”

Just fucking great! I have no idea what to do now. I get up, put on my shoes, and leave without saying goodbye. I wipe away the tears. There’s nobody to talk to. Vicks left, and she’ll be at the club in the evening. If that wasn’t enough, Myro got my card from Spain and Ve didn’t. He only said: “It is what it is.” I get it, I fucked up, but I don’t like how he talks to me now. I don’t like where this is going. I can sense the manipulation. He’s making me feel uncertain, bad. It’s not a good sign for our relationship. Maybe I don’t know shit, but it’s all going against me. I can feel it inside.

In the morning, I drop by Ivy. I need to talk to someone.

“I told you it was a bad idea to smoke that, Abigail. That’s why I didn’t try.”

“I wasn’t thinking about it that way then at all,” I admit. “I was angry and disappointed with everything. Besides, you know I didn’t feel anything.”

Walking back home from Ivy’s, I can still hear his words in my head: “You have to prove I can trust you.” I don’t know why, but I have the feeling he wants me to give myself to him, so to speak. I want it too because I love him, but his tone and the feeling that his intentions aren’t good give me pause. Oh, no. What if that horrible fucking bet is still on? Maybe he’s only pretending so he can have his way with me? I feel nauseous. That’s it, I’m going tothrow up. I stagger back home, rush inside, and barely have the time to reach the bathroom. I’m exhausted when it’s done. My head spins, and I’m weak. If it turns out to be the case, I’m going to die.

I sit on the balcony and suck in air in loud gulps. My body is rigid and incredibly tense. That always makes it hard to breathe. I rarely allow myself to descend into this state, but this time I can’t control it. I lean down, trying to breathe deeper. Ten minutes later, it’s beginning to get a little better. I’m not going to him. I don’t want to see him now. Even if I ask, he’s just going to deny everything. What am I supposed to do now? How do I act? Maybe just say yes and get it done. If he dumps me, at least things will be clear. On the other hand, maybe better to do it with someone who really loves me. But when we’re alone, he always seems so involved, so genuine. With him I feel like I can breathe for the first time. I’ve never experienced life with that kind of intensity. I really want to believe that if he lied to me, I would have known. But would I really? I’m going crazy with the storm of thoughts in my head.

I’m fixing myself an herbal tea to calm down when someone knocks at the door. I glance through the peephole. It’s Ve. Interesting. When I didn’t show up at his place, suddenly he found the strength to come to me.

“Hi, Abby.”

“Hi, Ve,” I say, standing at the door.

“Uh, can I come in?” he asks. I let him in. “Everything okay? You’re very pale.”

“I threw up, but I’m better now.”

“Threw up? Did you eat something bad?” he asks softly. How should I play my cards now?

“Listen, Connor, what did you think when you told me I needed to prove you could trust me?”

“I just said it so you had something to think about.”

“So it wasn’t a way to make me have sex with you?”

“What? No! Why did you think that?”

“Because that seems obvious. There’s that bet of yours. You want to win it, you’re getting bored with waiting, so you’re trying to make me do it so you can move on.”

“What a crock of shit!” he cries. “I thought nothing of the sort. I just wanted to piss you off.”

“Great. You say you love me, but you want to ‘piss me off’, knowing that would hurt me. When you love somebody, you don’t get off on making that person miserable, do you? That’s what I think, but maybe I’m wrong. Tell me.”

“I was angry that you smoked weed. Everyone talked about it at the Den, adding fucked-up stories. I told them that can’t be true, that my Abby would never act that stupid. So when you told me it was true, I got really pissed. I started believing the stories they told me. I wanted to get back at you.” He takes a step closer. “Did you throw up from stress?”

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