Page 16 of At My Worst

Her body stiffens for a moment, but just as quickly, she relaxes. It makes her feel uncomfortable when I make soft statements about her. I don’t know why, but I plan on figuring it out.

I walk back into her and press a kiss to her forehead, then I lean over and open the bar door. I place my hand on her lower back and lead her into the bar again.

Fuck me, man, I am whipped beyond fucking belief.

7

Bianca

“One Mississippi”by Zara Larsson

Iopen my eyes and see the same window I woke up to when I first came to this town: a window that is not mine.

There are strong arms wrapped around me, keeping me warm. His breath tickles the back of my neck, and our legs are intertwined together.

Fuck.

I close my eyes and breathe in his salty, masculine scent.

“Why does it have to be like this?” I ask, looking at him.

“You have made us this way. All you have to do is listen to me. I am older than you, and I am just trying to protect you,” he says confidently.

I stand still, staring at him. His breathing is calm and even, and his eyes are deadlocked onto me.

“I know,” I say as I drop my shoulders in defeat.

How does he always turn things around on me, making it my fault or problem? It starts as one thing, and then before I knowit, I am the one saying I am sorry just to make sure we don’t go to bed angry. He acts as if I am the one who causes all of our problems. It is not just me.

It can’t just be me. Can it?

“I just want us to be happy and not fight.”

“Okay then, don’t fight,” he says calmly as he opens the fridge.

My heart sinks into my stomach as I turn around and go down the hallway to my office.

It wasn’t always like this, I don’t understand.

I don’t understand what he wants from me.

I open my eyes and feel the tears roll down my face. I slowly untangle my body from Alexander’s. He mumbles something as he slowly wakes up. I sit on the edge of the bed and run my hands down my face, trying to get rid of the evidence of the tears. The tears that will come again, they always do.

Alexander places his hand on my lower back, his warmth spreading quickly across my skin. I turn and look at him. His eyes are open and watching me. He quickly sits up but keeps his hand on my lower back.

“Are you okay?” He asks in a concerned voice.

I nod. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, standing up from the bed.

My head is pounding from the vodka I drank, my thoughts are fuzzy, and my stomach is killing me. I overdid it once again, but I want the peaceful oblivion it gives in the moment, even if it is a false peace. It feels good while it lasts.

I lean over, grab my clothes from the chair, and dress. Looking at my phone on the bedside table, I notice I have a few missed calls. I sit on the edge of the chair and grab my phone. I swipe and put in my code.

I push on the first message from the number I don’t know and put it on speaker. I look over at Alexander. He is leaning his back against the wall, his attention on me.

“Bianca, this is Trudiy. I am calling because we want to offer you a therapist position with our company. If you could please call me back, I would love to discuss the next steps with you.”

I put my phone back on the table and stretched out my arms.

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