Page 15 of Give My Everything
“That’snotthepoint,” I reply. “I wanted us to talk things out and…and decide on a few things first.”
“Remington—”
“And don’t call me Remington,” I bark, unable to help it. “I hate my name, and my parents won’t listen to me when I tell them I don’t like it. But you sure as hell will listen to me when I say my name isRemmy.”
I turn and walk away, not planning to go far, just needing a moment to myself where I don’t have his infuriating face in mine.
I pace the foyer a few times, taking some deep breaths and shaking out my hands.
Fuck.
I’m so irritated right now. So frustrated. I hate when people stomp all over me, like my voice doesn’t matter, like how I feel is meaningless.
I keep promising myself I won’t ever let that happen again, promising I’ll take a stand when someone tries to push past me or walk around me and I’llmakethem listen to me.
But I’m unpracticed.
I don’t know how to speak in a way that means my voice will be heard. I don’t know how to implore a man to see me as someone to listen to, someone of value.
Right now, I feel like I’m talking to a brick wall. Like every word I say to Ben doesn’t actually have any significance. Like I’m speaking a foreign language.
“You act like I didn’t give you a choice,” he says, his voice close enough that I turn to look at him. “You had a choice. You could have told me I was insane and then left.”
I scoff. “Are you kidding? That’s not a choice.”
“It is. It just isn’t one you preferred.”
Gritting my teeth, I step closer, sticking a finger in his chest.
“You don’t get to back me into a corner and then tell me I had a choice. My only safe option was giving in to you, and I don’t care what world you live in,that is not a choice.”
My words come out low but strong—stronger than I thought they would and very much laced with my feelings about men who strong-arm women into decisions they wouldn’t make on their own.
I can see on his face that my words have startled him.
He takes a step back and watches as I continue to pace.
“I refuse to be in a relationship with someone who handles me like that, real or otherwise.”
There’s a long pause, drawn out as I head to the large window overlooking the circle drive at the entrance to the club.
“Remmy.”
His voice is softer, which surprises me enough that I turn to look at him.
He stands with his hands tucked into the pockets of his pants, and his eyes are focused on my face with an expression of…contrition? Is that what that is? I can’t tell.
All I know is he looks a lot less like an asshole when he isn’t trying to be charming.
“What?” I breathe out, my voice failing to hide just how frustrated I feel.
His head tilts to the side and his eyes rake me up and down, almost like he’s searching for something. Then he shakes his head and crosses his arms, one hand rising to rub at the beard on his face.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he says. “I should have led with that instead of…anything else.”
He pauses again, drops his arms, and steps closer to me.
“I’ve only been responsible for my own emotions for a long time,” he says, then shakes his head a little bit. “Other than my sister, of course. I’m used to going after the things I want, cart blanche. I didn’t realize it would upset you so much.”
