Page 88 of Fallen Rook
“Um, you gonna expand on that?”
“I prefer not to.”
“’Kay…”
Another beat of silence. I needed to say what I called him to say. Rip off the Band-Aid.
I hadn’t let myself be vulnerable and open with anyone for so long, it felt like learning how to walk again.
“How have you been?” I cleared my throat.
“Great.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
He wasn’t giving me an inch. And I couldn’t fucking blame him.
“I’m back on my PTSD meds,” I said.
“Good,” he answered. “That’s…good.”
“And alcohol.” I cleared my throat. “Not gonna touch it again. My therapist thinks it’s a terrible catalyst.”
“Yeah,” he said noncommittedly. “Makes sense.”
He wasn’t going to make it easy for me. After what I’d done, I couldn’t blame him.
“Enzo, I…” I sucked in a breath, determined to push the words out. “You were right, back in my apartment. I don’t want us to see other people. I haven’t been seeing anyone else, not since we got together, and not for a while before that.” Not since that night at the Forbidden Fruit, when he first acknowledged my existence, and I became obsessed with his soft eyes since. “And I can’t handle you so much as looking at someone else, let alone flirting or doing more.”
He was quiet for a few seconds, and I wondered if he was still on the line.
“You said you don’t do relationships,” he finally said.
“That was before.”
“Before what?”
Before you.
“I changed my mind.” My jaw twitched in annoyance.
“You want to be in a relationship with me?”
“I am in a relationship with you,” I corrected him primly. “You’re my boyfriend.”
“I haven’t agreed to be your boyfriend.” His tone melted into something flirtatious and coy, but my heart still tried thumping its way out of my chest violently. I wasn’t stupid enough to think I was out of the danger zone.
“We eat together, we drink together, we fuck together, we squabble, we talk about almost everything. We’re boyfriends whether you like it or not.”
“We only fucked once,” he pointed out.
I glanced at my watch. “Give me about an hour, and I’ll change that.”
“And we don’t watch trashy TV together.”
“I don’t watch trashy TV.” My voice was hard, my tone final.
