Page 100 of Hitting the Goal Line
“I was wondering if we can talk about something,” I say, taking a seat on the small couch with him, leaving a few cushions between us.
As soon as I sit, Elijah surprises me.
Instead of keeping his attention on the game like I expected him too, he turns to look at me, concern coating his face.
Now he’s concerned. Not when he had me pushed up against the fridge or when he had his hand wrapped around my neck, not letting me breathe.
Don’t think about that. If you do, you won’t be able to get through this. You need to stay calm.
Right. Calm. I can do calm.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, muting the TV, giving me his full attention.
I swallow down the ball of emotion that is forming in my throat and take a good look at the man in front of me.
No more butterflies flutter in my belly when I see him. I no longer blush when he touches me. I no longer have love for him in my heart.At the beginning, I was so excited to be with him and to see what we could be together, but now, none of that excitement exist and I can’t help but to be angry at myself for letting it go on for this long.
“I-I,” I start, trying to find all the correct words to say but having a hard time. “I think that once we get home, it might be a good idea for me and you to take a step back from this.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I can’t help but to feel proud.
I’m doing it. I’m really ending things between us.
Not a second goes by before all the concern disappears from Elijah’s face and he goes absolutely cold.
“What do you mean by that?” His jaw is set and the words come out through clenched teeth.
“I don’t think we should be together anymore. Things between us aren’t working out and I think both of us will be better off if we went our separate ways.” I say, feeling like a huge weight was lifted off my chest and like I can finally breathe.
I sit there, waiting for Elijah to say something. I can see the anger flowing in his eyes and all I can hope is that it isn’t the type of anger that I hate.
“Our separate ways,” Elijah eventually repeats, getting up from the couch and starts pacing the length of the small living room.
I stay seated on the couch, just watching him, holding on to all of my strength. If I don’t, I might cave and I tell him that I was just joking around, that I don’t want to end things, solely to keep his anger at bay.
“Yes. It’s for the best,” I say, proud of myself that my voice isn’t wavering. “Things between us aren’t working anymore, Elijah. We can’t keep going like we are. We both deserve better than that.”
I wanted to say that I deserve better than that, that I deserve better than him, but I couldn’t find the words. I have to make this about both of us, because maybe then there won’t be a fight. Maybe then, I won’t have another bruise to add to the memories I have of him.
Elijah lets out a snort, stopping mid pace to look over at me. “This is fucking rich. I bring you on a trip and you repay me by breaking up with me? That’s a bitch move.”
His words have a sting to them, so instead of looking at him as I answer, I look down at my hands. “I’ve been wanting to do it for a while. I just hadn’t been able to find the courage to do it until now.”
I close my eyes, hoping that he takes my honesty for what it is and that he doesn’t let his anger take over.
But of course, that hopefulness is futile when I hear him come closer to me and I feel his hand slide into my hair. He pulls so tightly and painfully, that tears spring into my eyes when he makes me look up at him.
“You want to know why things between us aren’t working anymore?” He spits out, anger enveloping every inch of him. His fingers dig into my scalp and I can’t help but to let out a whimper filled with fear. “Because of you. Because you are a whore of a bitch that would rather spend time with that joke of a hockey player instead of her boyfriend.”
“That’s n-not true,” I let out, tears starting to stream down my face.
“Shut the fuck up,” he says, right before his hand slips out from my hair and slaps me across the face.
The slap rings out, and my whole face goes numb from the impact. I try to reach up to sooth the pain, but Elijah stops me, reaching down for my hands and pinning them in place.
“Elijah, please,” I say to him, begging.
“Please what? Let you go? Not a fucking chance in hell. I’m not letting you go or letting you walk away from me. Do you understand me? Nobody fucking leaves me,” he spits out, almost in a growl.
