Page 51 of Pretty Obsessed

"You, looking like you do."

My brows rose. "Please elaborate."

"You look like a god with your abs and body and sex hair."

"You knew what I looked like last night and didn't seem to have an issue with it." There would be no stifling my amusement. It was written all over my face front and center.

"Listen, this is different."

I nodded pretending to take him seriously, setting my mug aside before stepping in front of the rocker. "I'm not sure I understand."

"You're making it worse!" He draped an arm over his face.

"Would you like me to turn around perhaps?"

"Yes, anything." A soft sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead.

I turned, resisting the urge to look over my shoulder. "Go on."

He exhaled audibly. "I don't really like explaining this to people. But…I will just stop in the middle of, well, everything and just get my phone or laptop out and start writing, or taking notes…" He trailed off but I waited, sure he wasn't through. "Are you laughing at me? I can't tell."

"Not at all, my dear."

He shifted and set down his cup and I stayed firm in my stance. Not giving in to the silence stretching there. He could ask me to turn back around or finish.

"I don't want you to be offended if I do it. Because it's not personal, it's just the way my brain works, and when I have an idea, I need to get it out. Sometimes they slip and— It's a little unhinged I know." His voice dropped and he sounded depleted.

I turned, finding him standing behind me, bare feet pressed into the old hand-scraped wood floors, toes lifted, eyes lowered. I collected him in my arms.

"No."

"No what?" he asked, pressing into my hug.

"Don't apologize for the way you make art. Maybe only another artist will understand, but don't apologize to anyone about it. You create beautiful and tragic worlds. Some of the most intricate and creative I've ever seen. Don't feel bad about it."

He rested his chin on my shoulder, head tipped into mine, voice soft. "You have to promise not to get mad if it happens during an argument or sex, especially here. This place…my mind is free. It's where I go to finish, and I'm sure it's worse than it even is normally."

His words came with weight. Feelings, baggage. Old wounds opened anew. I could only imagine an ex had had a real problem with this behavior.

"I promise."

This felt like new territory. He gave over to me his fear and I cradled it and promised not to use it against him. I became a safe space and I cherished the place. The trust it required for him to give that over. Even more sexy than anything we’d done in bed.

"Would you like to have coffee with me before I get back to work?"

I slid a finger under his jaw, tilting it up and brushing my lips over his. "Yes."

We detangled and he returned to the rocker. I took my place leaning against the arm, retrieving my coffee.

"Why don't you sit?"

I glanced down at myself. "I am sitting."

"You're in the I-could-flee-at-any-moment spot."

I raised my brows. "Says the bed-fleer?"

"You can't continue to hold that against me." He pulled his knees into his chest again. "How's your friend?"

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