Page 84 of Sweet Hate
Lucas
I mean, you’re not wrong. Why are you guys fighting? Did Swayze hog the remoteagain?
Kim
@Mia @Swayze @Axel @Haven
…
Lucas
Nice chat guys
Kim
You all suck big fat hairy ballsacks.
28
AXEL
Walking away from her was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Correction—the second hardest. Saying goodbye to her before she left for London was THE hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
The fact that I’m so tortured about her saying she needs time to think about my proposal should really give me pause. But apparently, I don’t give a flying fuck anymore.
Throwing myself into work gives me something to focus on, so I plaster some of the walls Lucas already worked on. It stops me from opening the stupid group chat currently blowing up my phone to see if Haven has messaged.
She asked for space, and that’s what I’m going to give her.
Twenty-four hours. Actually, twenty-two hours and fifty-five minutes now. That’s nothing in the grand scheme of things when we’ve spent so many years apart. I can handle that.Easy.
Except, anytime I hear a sound from the front of the bakery or her voice singing along to the radio, I think of the sounds she made as she came over the phone or how good she felt when I pinned her against the wall.
Turns out crouching to plaster a wall with an erectionis a new form of torture. I’m sure as shit gonna have to disappear upstairs to jack off for lunch today.
Reaching down and readjusting myself for the tenth time in the last five minutes, I groan. Jesus Christ. I can’t do this. What if tomorrow she saysthanks but no thanks? I haven’t even considered that an option since our bodies light up like two live wires when we touch.
But I know how Haven’s mind works. When she has time to think, she ties herself up in knots, thinking up the worst possible scenarios until she makes herself sick with anxiety. At least, that’s how it used to be.
All of a sudden, I hear a crash, followed by a yelp from my girl.
I jump up from the floor and run like a bat out of hell to the front, where I find Haven sitting on the floor, rubbing her ankle, the remains of a broken chair surrounding her.
“Sprinks, baby, you OK?” I squat in front of her, gingerly examining her ankle.
“I’m sorry. Yeah, I’m fine. I was just trying to wipe down the light fixtures, but clearly my fat ass is too heavy to balance on the chair.”
There’s not an inch of her that’s fat, but it’s probably not the time to address that. I’ve already accidentally called her baby.
“It looks like you’ve sprained it. Let me run upstairs and grab you some ice.”
I pick her up, loving the way her arms automatically wrap around my neck as I move her to sit on a booth, so she can keep her ankle elevated.
Tearing upstairs in record time, all stupid horndog thoughts gone in the face of my girl being hurt, I yank open my freezer and grab a bag of frozen fruit.
Grabbing a hand towel, painkillers, a bottle of water, and a pillow, I look around my apartment for anything else she mightneed. My gaze snags on a bar of chocolate, and I grab that too before taking the stairs two at a time to get back to her.
Her eyes widen as she catches sight of my arms full of stuff.
