Page 105 of Bad at Love

“Then what is it about? Because you’ve not been yourself for weeks now, and I’m worried.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“I am,” he says firmly, glaring at me.

I stare at him, his bright eyes much darker than usual. There’s a lot of anger swirling in them, and so I let it go. With a sigh, I focus on eating my breakfast. When I’m done, I clean up the mess. He’s still sitting there eating, so I leave him be and go outside because I need some space.

I don’t know what to do with him. All I know is I don’t like this. I liked how things were before, when we were getting along and having sex. He wasn’t snapping at me and pushing me away. We were having fun and things were comfortable. But now? He’s distant and grumpy.

After an hour of being outside, I hear soft footsteps in the grass and open my eyes. Storm stops beside the lounge chair I’m lying on. I look up at him, but wait for him to speak. It seems everything I say lately is wrong, so I should probably just stop speaking.

“I’m going to take my mother off life support.”

“Oh,” I say, surprised. I throw my feet off the side of the chair and get up. I want to go to him, to hug him, which is a strange thought since I’m not a touchy-feely kind of guy. I don’t do that though, because Storm doesn’t look like he wants anyone in his space.

“I’m sorry for being an asshole lately. I’m just so confused.”

“About what?” I ask.

“Everything.”

I nod, understanding that all too well. I live my life in a state of confusion. I don’t understand people or what they do and why they do it most of the time.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do with your mom, Storm, but I will say that you need to make sure to really think about this.”

“I have.”

“Okay then. What can I do to help you?”

“Help me what?”

“Anything.”

“I don’t know,” he answers softly, scratching the back of his neck. “I haven’t gotten that far yet.”

“Well, when you do, I’ll be here.”

I sit back down on the chair to get comfortable. He just stands there. I’m not sure what to do with him. He freaked out last night over me not caring, but I’m caring the best way I know how. I don’t think he meant to offend me or insult me with his words, but he did. I’m not showing him I care about him well enough, apparently, but when I try harder, he freaks out about that, too.I don’t know what he wants from me, so I’m just doing what I think is right. And it seems none of what I’m doing is what he wants either. But he won’t talk about it, even though he’s the one who said we need to communicate in order for things to work. Meaning… I’m stuck without a clue of what to do.

After a few excruciating moments, Storm walks away. I consider going after him but don’t, and I’m not really sure why. He broke down last night, and basically said that’s what he wants, but… should I be chasing him? For my own sake, no. I can’t do that. Besides, is it even what he really wants?

I’ve made what I want clear, haven’t I? What else do I need to do? How long will I need to chase him before he understands that I’m asking for more? I’ve said it. I’ve given him my words. I’ve shown him by giving him my body. I don’t know what else I need to do.

Once I’m left with my thoughts for a while, I start to overthink everything on my end—surprise, surprise. Maybe I should have gone after him… I’m not a very proud person, so I can’t blame my pride for not chasing him. Self-preservation, maybe? It’s too late to go in there now. He’s probably already mad. So I do the only thing I can: I call Marta.

“Gabriel,” she answers. “What can I do for you?”

“I think I messed things up again.”

“Start from the beginning.”

I word vomit everything. More than I should. I even get into details about sex and the videos and his mom—but not too much about that because I don’t break his trust. It feels good to get it off my chest. I hadn’t realized holding it all in was weighing me down so much.

“Here’s what you need to do, Gabriel. You need to go talk to him and lay it all out, clearly and specifically.”

“But I just said—”

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