Page 42 of Bad At Love

He laughed at her determination to let him in. And felt like crying at all the little prickly things she was revealing to deter him. God, the woman was scheming as she was sweet, and he wanted all of her.

“Remember those?” she said, breathing the words into his neck. Trembling just a little. “Or were you not born yet?”

He kneaded her hips roughly, letting his fingers dig into the flesh. Swiveling his hips into the cradle of her thighs, as if he could stamp himself onto her flesh. “Of course I remember. And for the record, I’m only three years younger than you.” Pulling back before he made a fool of himself amidst everyone, he stared at her. “Why do I have a feeling this slumber party was your idea?”

Her gaze turned sheepish. “I just thought you should see my reality.”

“You think these oversized glasses and oily hair and what…the dark circles under your eyes will make me want you less? You think I’m that shallow?”

She blinked, the motion exaggerated by her glasses. For all that she showed up in the world as a strong, assertive woman, in that moment, she was all vulnerability with a side of aching fragility. And that she’d bared herself for him…turned him inside out.

“It’s almost a compulsion at this point to not step out of the house without looking perfect. A nice little leftover gift from my stupid past. But I…I want you to know me like this. To see me like this. To…want me like this.”

DP thought his heart might have cracked a little. And yet, for all that, it only felt stronger, beat faster for knowing this woman, for wanting this woman. For loving this woman. “I have seen how you hoard those disgusting hot sauce and red pepper flakes packets, the mess you make when you cook, and how much you hate being told that your math is wrong. And that every year, you steal premium subscription services by guessing mine or Mona’s passwords.”

“You know my dirty secrets,” she said, laughing. A strange urgency thrummed around her as she dug her fingers into his shoulders, none too gently. “Tell me something about yourself. Something that I don’t know. Something you’re a little ashamed of.”

“Char, there’s nothing to be…”

“Please, DP,” she said, thumping her forehead against his chest. “Give me one thing.”

“You want me to tell you a gross, disgusting thing about me when I’m hoping to fuck you every which way later tonight?”

Another giggle. Another crack in his heart. And after this week, if she didn’t want more, if she didn’t want him, he was going to be left with a heart full of cracks and holes.

“Yes. I demand it.”

He sighed. “Fine. Let me think.”

Nothing came to his mind though.

A half-groan, half-growl fell from her mouth. “Ugh. What’s the point? I’ve been in your bedroom, your house, your office. Nothing’s out of place or untidy or the least bit disgusting. Even your damn locker at the gym smells like pine and woods.”

He rifled his fingers through her hair, loving the way she draped herself over him. “That comes from parenting two smelly teenagers when I was barely older.”

“This will never work if you’re truly perfect. Damn it, DP, I was counting on you to-”

Digging his fingers into her scalp, he tilted her face up until she could see into his eyes. “You want the most twisted thing about me? Here it is.”

Moonlight made her eyes glitter, her palms on his lower back his only anchor as he took the plunge.

“There were days when I resented TJ and Maggie so much that I couldn’t bear to look at them,” he said, reaching for his ugliest secret.

Utter dismay filled her expression. “That’s not-”

DP cut her off. Now that he’d started, he wanted to get it out. “I would make their breakfasts and lunches, sign their forms, pack their school bags, line up their shoes and socks and rain jackets and umbrellas by the door, then hide in the bathroom under the guise of a long shower.” His throat burned as if he had swallowed something too hot. “The resentment was like this…” he wiped his mouth and took a step back, “roiling thing inside me. I used to be terrified that it would leak out of my pores like smelly, putrid pus if I got too close to them. Maggie especially. She always read me too well.”

For every step he took away from her, Chaaru ate it up with her own. Her hands squeezed his bunched biceps, clasped his cheek, kneaded his shoulders as if she meant to tether him to herself. “You don’t have to go on, DP. Please...”

He shook his head. “TJ even bought me antacids from the pharmacy because he thought my stomach was damaged.” A dry chuckle left him but even that burned his throat. “After they left for school, I would sit on that front step and cry because I loved them so much. But some days, it felt like a prison I couldn’t escape. No pub crawls with friends, no adventures, no college. I couldn’t…throw money on hobbies or luxuries or vacation. It was a long stretch of unending school days and rainy months and painful years. Even now, when TJ and I argue or Maggie’s upset, I’m terrified that it will come out and that they hate me for it.”

It was something he had never shared with anyone. To this day, he felt equal parts shame and guilt for not only having those feelings but acting on them. It had haunted him so badly, even into his thirties, that he’d finally seen a therapist. Only to realize that he’d never had the chance to acknowledge, much less grieve, losing his parents.

That his brother and sister got along with him, had turned out happy, well-adjusted humans had helped him internalize the realizations he’d achieved in therapy.

“Oh, darling,” Chaaru said, hugging him so tight that it felt like their hearts could talk to each other. “You were hardly an adult yourself, and you did your best. Oh...DP. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I made you revisit that painful stuff. I never meant to cause you-”

“Shh…you didn’t make me do anything,” DP said, letting her body soothe the remembered ache. “Sharing with an objective professional who’s paid to listen to you is one thing. Sharing it with a friend is wholly different.”

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