Page 103 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

“Ouch.” His nonchalant tone infuriates me even more. “You keep calling me Dylan. Whatever’s wrong must be serious.”

“You know, Tommy told me that guys can’t take hints. I’m not hinting here. I’m point blank telling you I don’t want you in my house. I don’t want this stupid arrangement to continue, so please take your roses and leave.” I wait, but he just sits there and carries on playing his game. My temper is spiraling. “Do you not hear me?”

His eyes don’t leave his screen. “I hear you. I’m listening toeveryword, but I know a trauma tantrum when I see one, and I’m not entertaining crazy.” He looks up at me then. “So, when you calm down and you’re ready to tell me what triggered you so bad then we can talk. Until then, I’m going to sit right here and play my game.”

The conflict within me toys with my emotions, and I can’t decide if I’m shocked or livid over what he just said.

“I’m not a six-year-old throwing a tantrum. This is me explicitly saying that I want this to stop. Right this second. Just leave.”

The only thing I get in response is the chimes of Subway Surfer, and it’s grinding on my last nerve.

“Let’s just stop wasting time. This whole argument is unnecessary when we both know the best thing is for us to end this. There’s no point in delaying the inevitable. You can go off and find a sweet, demure girl...like Francesca, and I can find myself a guy who actually wants to have sex with me. We both win.”

He’s so engrossed in the game that he’s not even listening to me. My irritation rises, and my tone becomes snappy. I do eventually devolve into a six-year-old throwing a tantrum. I don’t want to insult him, but that’s exactly what I end up doing because he’s not hearing a damn word I say. I know the fastest way to make him lose his temper is to bring up other guys. I use that cheap tactic, and he doesn’t even flinch. After a minute of doing that, it sinks in that it’s not working, and I change direction.

“I don’t know how many times I have to say this. It’s over between us. If I knew it would be so much work to get rid of you, I never would’ve agreed to this.”

Nothing. Nothing but those musical chimes.

“You’re either a narcissist or super arrogant if you can’t wrap your head around the fact that I don’t want you. Please, just do us both a favor and leave.”

“Shit, I just missed highest score.” And then the chimes start up again. I’m damn near in a tizzy and he just started a new game.

“Dylan, please! Just go home! You’re gonna leave me anyway, so just do it now. Go! Just go be with Francesca because that’s probably who you were with when you disappeared last week.”

He doesn’t even deny it and continues playing his game. His calmness is a total contrast to me because I am currently spitting fire.

“I can guarantee that she won’t give you the hassles I give you. You won’t have to worry about people calling her a whore or getting into fights with random guys because of her. She won’t give you problems like that, so just go. Go be with her! Go screw her brains out. I’m not worth all this trouble.”

His eyes immediately shoot up to meet mine. “There it is. Come here.” When I don’t move, he reaches out both hands and calls me closer with his fingers. “Come on.”

I’m not sure if it’s the soothing tone of his voice or the fact that he’s finally talking that makes me slowly walk over to him. Curiosity overrides my anger because I don’t know what I said to make him do this sudden one-eighty.

“Sit down right here.”

He taps the middle of the bed and I crawl to the spot, then cross my legs beneath me. He kicks off his shoes and stretches his long legs out on either side of me. After scooting a few inches closer, my butt is between his thighs, and he unwinds my legs to pull them around his waist. Typical. It wouldn’t be Dylan if he didn’t make this intimate somehow.

His hands slide up my thighs and beneath my sweatshirt to rest on my hips. “I take it you overheard Peter the other day?”

“Yes,” I admit, feeling raw and very vulnerable. “And he’s right about everything. Dylan, you’re top-grade boyfriend material. You shouldn’t be wasting time with a girl like me. It’s better if you just?”

“I’m going to stop you there for a second because there are two important things I’d like to address. One. I said this to Charlotte. I said it to Pete. Now I’m saying it to you. I don’t need anyone’s assistance to get me through life. I don’t need anyone to speak for me, or look out for me, or make choices for me. So, ifyouwant to end this thing, then go ahead and end it, but don’t make assumptions about what you think is better forme. I can make those kinds of decisions for myself. Are we clear on that?” He waits for me to nod. “The second thing was kinda confusing to me at first, but I think I figured it out. I couldn’t understand how one person could be so confident yet so insecure at the same time, but now I see that you’re confident about everything on the outside. Your body. Your looks. But you’re so insecure about everything on the inside. Why is that?”

I shrug because I can’t answer that question. “I...I don’t know. I guess it’s because I know where my value lies and it’s just on the surface. Guys don’t care aboutme. They want what’s on the outside because there’s nothing on the inside. Iamnothing. I’mworthnothing.” I drop my head, just wanting to retreat into my own little space. My confidence and sarcasm make up the shield that protects my pathetically fragile interior, and now I’ve just gone and exposed myself. It’s burning on the inside, sizzling up my ever-tightening throat. The searing sting of rejection is almost overwhelming. “No guy wants to be with me, Dylan...not even you. That’s why we have this arrangement, right? You just want certain parts of me, the physical parts. You don’t want the rest.”

He lifts one hand and slides his finger under my chin until I tilt my face up to look at him. “You’re making assumptions about me again when you just agreed not to do that.” He stares at me for a long time, though I’m not sure what he’s searching for. “You know, after what happened at the grocery store, my mom and I spent hours in therapy, and I learned that weird things trigger people. Like, you think you’re fine, but then one day, you’re watchingLaw and Order,and all of a sudden you’re flinging a vase at the TV.”

“That happened?”

“Yep, which is why my dad bought me a punching bag. At first, I didn’t know why such a stupid thing made me so mad, but now I understand that somewhere in the back of my mind, my brain took something completely unrelated and interpreted it in a messed-up way. Now, with you, you’ve done something very weird to yourself here, Bella. You’ve totally fucked up the wiring of your brain. You’re easily triggered by the actions of the boys in your life because you’ve gone and tied your self-worth to men. The problem is, some of the men you’ve been with are assholes, and instead of acknowledging that the guys are at fault, you put the blame on yourself.”

I instantly go on the defensive. “I don’t do that.”

“You do. I’ll give you some examples. Your dad committed suicide, and you think it’s somehow your fault, you weren’t good enough to make him stay when, in reality, he was battling his own demons. I don’t know why he did it, but it was a result of his own circumstances. It had nothing to do with you...or your sister or your mom. That washischoice based on reasons beyondyou. Then you get a guy like Steven. He has sex with you, then goes back to his girlfriend the next day. You think that’s because you’re not good enough for him to choose you over her when, in reality, he’s just a cheating douche. If it wasn’t you, it would’ve been some other girl because he’s trying to prove something and he’s not happy inhisrelationship. It has nothing to do with you.”

I let that information sink in and realize that he’s right. “That sort of makes sense.”

His hands circle around my waist. “And then there’s me. I disappear for a few days, and you think it’s because of somethingyoudid wrong, but that had absolutely nothing to do with you. That wasallme.Ineeded a break.”

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