Page 64 of Naive in Love

“I…uh…jumped a curb last night on my way home, and I busted a tire and probably effed up the rim too.” I cringe thinking about it again.

“Did you get hurt?” His voice is full of worry.

“No, I’m fine. My car, not so much. But I’m fine.” I hear a knock on my door announcing the tow truck has arrived. “Hey, I have to go. The tow truck is here to pick up my car, and Lena is taking me to pick up a rental. Talk later.”

“Fine, but this conversation isn’t over. Call me when you get back.”

* * *

As I drive homefrom the car rental agency, I take a detour, wanting space and time alone. I pick up a latte and head for a park. The cold winter air means it’s deserted. It is the perfect place for me to think and wallow, alone. I make my way to the swings, placing my latte on the ground as sit, pushing myself off. The cold air on my face is uncomfortable, but I secretly feel like I deserve the punishment.

Only questions, no answers, keep wandering around my mind, and I am useless at stopping them. The one thing I am certain of is I need to talk to Caleb. I need to see where we stand. Do I still have a boyfriend? My guilt over everything I have done persuades me to solidify my decision to talk things out with him.

I jump off the swing and pick up my latte, thankful it is still warm. I climb into my car, grabbing my phone. When I click the screen, a text from Caleb is waiting for me. I stare at it for a few seconds, nervous about what it says, before I swipe to read—Can we talk?

Caleb letsthe door swing open and pulls me inside into a tight embrace. His arms hold me tightly as his hands roam over my back and into my hair. I bring my arms up around his waist and hold on to him.

“Come on.” His voice is low, as he grabs my hand and leads me back to his room.

I stay silent, fearing if I say anything it will ruin the calm. He sits on his bed and pulls me down beside him. He takes a long breath in, exhaling slowly, then turns to me.

"I'm sorry about last night. I was out of line, but I hate to see other guys hitting on you. I've had my fill of Ethan wanting you even though he knows we are together. He hasn't hidden his feelings at all. I guessed them a long time ago. I was frustrated last night, and I took it out on you."

He looks at me, waiting for me to respond. I’m not sure what to say. I'm confused. How did he see it? "I'm sorry for not telling you what happened at the beach. I was mad about the girl answering your phone.”

"Come here." He pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me down to lay beside him. He brushes loose strands of hair out of my face. His look has softened, and he brings his face closer until our lips meet in a gentle kiss. He pulls back. "Are we okay now?"

"Yes.” I say, knowing that I’m lucky that it was this easy for him to calm down and forgive me for hiding things from him.

He kisses me, then lets his lips wander to my neck. His hand roams under my sweatshirt and glides over my chest. He pushes my bra up and massages my breast.

“Let’s get you comfortable.” Caleb purrs as he grabs the hem of the sweatshirt and pulls it up.

I tense, not wanting or ready to have sex. But I know stopping us will cause another fight. Full of dread, my stomach churns, but I smile and sit up to pull it over my head. He unclasps my bra and pulls it off.

“These are mine,” he says, pushing me back down and licking my nipple.

His other hand squeezes one breast as he continues to kiss and suck the other.

“You’re mine, and he can’t have what’s mine.” Caleb slides his hand down my stomach and cups my sex. And when I don’t say anything, he looks up at me and says, “And I’m yours. Only yours.” He brushes his lips tenderly past mine. “I love you.”

I bob my head slightly, my feelings a chaotic mess.

His fingers begin to stroke me through my yoga pants when my phone chiming surprises us. I grab it and see a text from Ethan.

"What the hell does he want?" Caleb asks angrily, sitting up.

I am unsure how to answer without upsetting him. I sit up, crossing my legs in front of me and grabbing my sweatshirt to cover myself. "He called Lena after the guys told him what happened at the bar and that I left alone, upset, and drunk. He was worried. He tried calling me, but I didn’t answer." I catch myself trying to defend him.

"What are you trying to say? That I wasn't worried about you?" A fight is brewing.

"I didn't say that. You asked what he wanted, and I told you."

"Then, please, continue," he says tightly.

"I refused to speak with him last night when he called Lena. Then this morning he kept calling her, so I called him back to let him know I was okay. When he found out I messed up my car—"

"Wait, what? What happened to your car?"

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