Page 65 of Naive in Love

"I kinda wrecked it. I jumped a curb and blew out a tire. I was drunk, so I kept driving on the flat tire, which probably fucked up the rim. The front fender is also damaged," I nervously explain.

"When did this happen?"

"Right after you hung up on me. I started crying again, and I couldn't see." I mumble.

"Are you saying this is my fault?"

"No. You asked when it happened, and I told you. That's it," I reply frustrated we are fighting already. I am tense and just want to go home. I pull on my sweatshirt, grab my bra, and climb off the bed, but he grabs my arm, stopping me.

"Where are you going?" he demands.

"Home. I don't want to fight with you again. I can see we are heading in that direction, and I would rather not." I lean in to give him a chaste kiss and pull my arm out of his grip.

"Please don't go. I'm sorry. It's just the mention of his name that pisses me off." His expression changes to sadness.

"I can't. I don't want to fight. I’ve had my fill, and I need time to breathe." I stand next to him.

"What does 'time to breathe' mean?" he asks, controlled. His jaw is clenching.

"Just that I don't want to fight with you again, especially when we had a major blow out last night. I would rather leave on a semi-good note than leave upset again and stress all night long. To be honest…", I pause, unsure how my next statement is going to be received, "I’m tired of fighting with you. I'm never sure what is going to upset you. I just don't want to fight with you anymore."

“I know it has been rough. I'm sorry. I never meant it to be that way. I just hate all the time you spend with Ethan, especially now that I know my suspicions were correct. I always realize too late I’m being a dick to you when you haven't done anything. That’s why I’m the one that’s always apologizing. I wouldn’t act this way if I didn’t love you.”

I am surprised by his confession and taken aback by his honesty. But Ethan is a part of my life. How am I going to do this? “I’m sorry too. Look, Ethan is a part of my friend group. My roommate is dating his cousin. He’s going to be around, but I’m with you,” I say, not knowing how else to handle this situation.

* * *

When I get home,I text Ethan to call me and receive a response right away telling me he is coming over. I tell him that isn’t necessary, but he doesn’t respond.

I nervously open the door to Ethan looking tired and worried, but incredibly handsome. We stay at the door for a few seconds just watching each other until he takes a step forward, pulling me into his strong arms. I fall into them as always, relishing the feeling of safety and comfort. My body betrays my mind. He holds me tightly against his chest, his breathing shallow and uneven. He finally loosens his grip on me and pulls back to look at my face, still not saying anything. Without a word, he lets me go and pulls us into the apartment, then into my room, where he sits on the bed and gestures for me to sit next to him. I choose to sit away from him with my back against the wall and my legs pulled up to my chest.

"I told you I was fine. See? You really didn't need to come all the way over." I try to sound convincing so that I can make the situation easier on us both.

"If that’s true, why don't you look like everything is fine?" I begin to shake my head, and he continues, "Please don't lie. I know you, and I can see it. Besides, with what the guys told me and what you told me about last night, it wasn’t a good one.”

“Everything’s better now. Promise.” I plaster a smile on my face and hold up three fingers mimicking a scout’s honor.

Ethan watches me; his head slowly shakes back and forth twice.

“What?” I ask, my frustration rising. What is he doing here? What does he expect from me? What does he want to hear?

“I know that you aren’t telling me everything. There is more to the story than what you’ve said.”

“Tell me what you think you know? Huh? What am I not saying? I’m tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night. You said you were stepping away and yet, here you are! Why? Tell me! What the hell do you want to hear?” I get off my bed to stand in front of him, yelling the last couple of sentences out of sheer frustration.

“I know that you didn’t tell me everything that happened,” he states calmly, continuing to sit on my bed while he watches me.

“Like?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Like how he cussed at you.” I flinch, wondering how he knows. “And by your expression, I know I’m right.”

I freeze. Did he just guess? Maybe my expression gave it away. That would be the only way he could know. I refuse to answer either way, instead asking, “And what else do you think you know?”

“That he pushed you. He actually laid his hands on you.” His body tenses as he leans his arms on his knees, clenching his fists. He drops his head. I watch him in horror. He knows. He takes a deep breath, exhaling before he looks up at me.

“He didn’t mean to. It got way out of hand last night because we were drunk. He apologized and felt really bad.”

“Don’t make excuses for him. He never should’ve placed a hand on you.” His body tense, he is struggling to maintain his composure.

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