Page 63 of Perfect
Theo doesn’t leave.
I’m tense through trivia, drinking much more than I usually do, leaving quickly when I’d normally stay and chat, ducking Theo and starting to walk home by myself. He catches up to me within a few blocks, and I flinch as he grabs my arm gently and pulls me to a stop.
“Sweetie, you’re drunk and you just walked off without me. You have to be careful, okay?”
He links his fingers through mine as we walk. I leave my hand open, not gripping back, which seems to frustrate him, and I refuse to talk to him on the walk back, which makes him more frustrated.
I try to keep ignoring him, but Theo tries harder to get me to engage once we’re back at my place. I sit at the breakfast bar as he starts getting things prepared to make dinner, asking me about my friends, what I like about them, why I like doing trivia – anything to get me to talk to him.
Every question he asks makes me feel more irritated.
I open a bottle of wine and start drinking fast, giving him a tight smile and one-word answers, getting progressively more drunk. I can tell I’m wearing on his patience, but I need to have control over something.
If all I can control is pushing him until he kills me, I’ll fucking do that.
After I pour my third glass of wine, he snatches it off the counter, grabbing the empty bottle as well.
“Jesus, Alex. You have a drinking problem, you know that?”
I give him a sharp smile. “Give me back my fucking wine,Theodore.It helps me get through things that are unpleasant, like spending time withyou.” Theo’s jaw tenses, and he gives me a cold, condescending smile as he slowly dumps the wine into the sink.
I snap, grabbing the first thing in my reach, which ends up being my keys, and I hurl them at his face. He ducks out of the way, and then he’s immediately in my space, somehow still towering over me even though he’s leaning over the breakfast bar.
“Don’t fuckingthrow thingsat me! We arenotdoing that,ever!” His voice is raised and stern, and he’s not quite yelling atme, but he’s so intense it’s scary. My anger dissipates quickly, shame and anxiety creeping up on me.
Why the fuck did I just do that? This is a dangerous situation, and I can’t push him like this. Plus, I hated it when Danny got mad and threw things at me.
I look down at my hands, shaking my head. What is wrong with me?
Theo sighs hard, and I flinch when his hand comes to grip my jaw lightly, tilting my face up so I have to look at him.
“Wetalkin this relationship. I amnevergoing to hit you, or throw things at you, or hurt you, so don’t fucking do it to me.” I nod. “Good. Ineverwant to have this conversation again, understand?” I nod again. He lets go of my face and turns into the kitchen, picking up my keys and pocketing them, shaking his head. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters under his breath. I don’t say anything, feeling ashamed.
I need to calm down and get through this, one day at a time. I’m not going to keep pushing him to his limits because I’m tired of dealing with him, and I’mnotgoing to be like Danny.
No one deserves that, not even this fucking asshole.
Theo finishes making dinner in tense silence, passing me a plate and eating his in the kitchen. We don’t talk for a long time. Finally, he sucks in a breath and blows it out fast.
“Have you ever been hit, or had something thrown at you before?” I shrug, not looking at him. I don’t want him to know me. “Well, I have, and I fucking hate it, okay? So just talk to me,please. Why are you so mad at me?” I shake my head. He’s got to be fucking kidding.
“I’m notmad.” I stab a Brussels Sprout. “I’mfrustrated.” I shove the sprout into my mouth to keep from telling him how I really feel, and Theo gives me a disbelieving look.
“You aresucha shitty liar,” he laughs out. “You know, you can just ask me to fuck you if you’re so frustrated.”
I shoot him a dirty look. “That’snotwhat I meant.”
“Maybe not, but you’re much nicer to me after you’ve come. I seem to be the only one of us who can make that happen for you.” His lips twitch into a small smile, and I flush with embarrassment and anger. I take some quick, deep breaths to keep from throwing something else at him.
This isbullshit.
“You know what?Fine. Fuck me. Maybethatwill make spending time with you tolerable.” He considers me, his mouth tight.
I realize, belatedly, that I’m pushing him again, and I’m pretty drunk if I’m asking my stalker to fuck me.
“I’m good,” he says, his voice casual but his hands gripping the counter until his knuckles turn white.
“So, what you’re saying to me,” I grit out, plastering a smile on my face and talking slowly, “is that you broke into my house because you wanted to fuck me so badly, and now you’re not even going to do that?”
