Page 41 of Fumble

“I think I’m going to be sick. Please, just leave me.” She quickly diverts passengers to the other restrooms, giving me some space to breathe.

Hunched over the toilet bowl, I lose my breakfast, gagging and retching until there’s nothing but bile.

Malcolm didn’t touch my skin, but I feel so dirty. All I want to do is crawl into a shower and wash him away, to burn my clothes. It takes me a while to pull myself together, but when I open the door, I quickly ask the attendant if there are any available seats closer to the restroom, anything to keep me away from Malcolm. Ignoring everything around me, I struggle to calm my breathing. If I don’t, I’m really going to lose it.

After the wheels touch down, I wait for everyone else to filter off the plane before going to retrieve my purse from my original seat. But once I reach the terminal, I’m acutely aware of Malcolm as I await my bags

I just want to get the hell out of the airport and hole up in my hotel room. My bags trundle out on the carousel looking as beat-up and wretched as I feel right now. There’s no way I’m getting in a van with these idiots, and certainly not Malcolm. Instead, I make a quick exit and head out to hail a cab. My phone is going off constantly, and when I risk a glance, it’s Hunter. Too tired to deal with talking to him, I tap out a quick text before shoving it in my pocket and finding my way to an available cab.

Me: I’ll meet everyone at the hotel. Getting a cab. I’m fine. Stop worrying.

He’s not going to be happy with my curt explanation, especially when I didn’t bother to read any of his other messages.

I almost make it to the sanctuary of a yellow cab when the strap on my laptop bag snaps, sending everything that matters most to me crashing to the unforgiving pavement. I don’t even need to look to know that the zipper was open. The crack of my MacBook is worse than any broken bone. My life is on this computer. Notepads, pens, tampons, all tumble out. I’m organized chaos. I’m an excellent personal assistant, but don’t hazard a look inside my mind or my bag. Crouching with less grace than a flamingo on stilts, I scramble to grab my belongings before they get trampled by the masses. My phone buzzes against my thigh. Ignoring it, I reach for the tampons sprawled around me like confetti. Why the hell did I have to shove them in this bag! My hands are shaking as I attempt to gather everything. My nerves are completely shot.

“God. You seriously can’t get anywhere in one piece.” Hunter appears behind me. In a single, fluid motion, he scoops everything up into one arm and grabs me with the other. Within two seconds, he’s pushing me into the back seat of a cab, dumping the contents of my bag next to me. A few hurried words, an exchange of cash, and the driver is throwing my bags in the trunks. To my horror, Hunter slides in beside me.

“What the hell are you doing? You have a private car. You can’t be seen with me.” The muscle in his jaw tightens as he eyes me with trepidation.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that. I was worried about you.”

“I’m fine. I messaged to tell you exactly that.” My heart is screaming at me to tell him everything. But if I do, he’ll go postal on Malcolm, and it would look bad for him, not that little weasel. He’ll crawl back into whatever hole he came from, and Hunter would be splashed all over the tabloids for grievous bodily harm.

“After ignoring at least twenty other messages today.”

“I was on a flight, sitting next to Malcolm. Did you want me to let him read over my shoulder? I’m sure he would’ve loved that. Shit… Malcolm. You need to get out of the car, Hunter. Go now!” My lame attempts to shove him toward his side are met with downright anger. I don’t want another reason for Malcolm to single me out.

“Stop hitting me, Faith! Goddammit. Do you have any idea what’s been going through my mind for hours? And then I finally hear back from you, and you’ve gone rogue. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I just wanted some time by myself. Is that too much to ask?”

“Yes! In the past week, I’ve taken you to the hospital, watched you get stitches, seen you barely able to walk with a broken fucking vagina. Who does that? And then you scared the crap out of me in the lobby when you collapsed. Forgive me if I think it’s not too much to ask that you don’t go running around by yourself right now.”

“I’m fine!” I’m anything but fine.

“Yeah, the tampons littering the cab attest to your ability to look after yourself.”

“Fuck you!” The moment it leaves my lips, I regret it.

“Whoa, hold up.” He reaches for my hand, but I can’t let him touch me. “Faith, what the hell happened? You were fine this morning. Playful even. Now you’re trying to push me out the door and telling me to go fuck myself.” Refusing to meet his gaze, I stare out the window, willing the traffic to move.

“It doesn’t matter. Just ignore me.”

“Well, you make it a little difficult for me to do that now, don’t you?” His tone softens in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I leave you alone for a few hours, and you’re making a scene. I don’t think a quick getaway is on the cards for you, love.” My hearts lurches into my throat. No one has ever called me ‘love’ before. I know it doesn’t mean anything, but hearing it on his lips is intoxicating. It makes me feel safe for just a brief moment. I find myself thawing ever so slightly, his voice reaching through the numbness. I want him to soothe me with a brush of his hand or a warm embrace.

“I… this was easier when we were alone. Being around everyone else makes this complicated. I don’t want to wreck your career because I say or do the wrong thing.”

“Well, you should have thought of that before you were bouncing on my lap, fingering yourself until I watched you scream my name.”

“It was selfish of me. This whole thing. The wager. You. Me. You knew it was a bad idea from the start. I badgered you into it, and now I’m realizing that you were right.” I’m choking back tears as I contemplate how fucked up my life has become is such a short time.

“Faith, will you look at me, please? If you’re going to say shit like that, you can at least look me in the eye and tell me you believe a word of what you just said.” As I turn to face him, his expression is pained, the rise and fall of his chest, visibly erratic.

“Every word. You know it, and I know it.”

“So, this is your game? You push and push until I can’t bear the thought of not being the guy to fuck you for the first time. Then, once you have me on my knees, you’ve lost interest. Wow, I didn’t see that coming.” The driver keeps his eyes firmly fixed on the road, but I know he heard everything.

“I’m not playing a game right now, Hunter. This is my fucking life we’re talking about. I’m not a plaything for male amusement. I get it now. Okay? You were right. You were right. You were right!”

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