Without A Little Risk

Not Anyone's Girl

Belgian brings Pierre a very exciting P2 and he's in high spirits the second he walks into the after party.

He dances in that like the world is his oyster, a ball of positivity and light.

And when that light shines on me and asks me to dance, there's no chance I'm turning it down.

But something has shifted between us lately, I can't put a finger on if it's quite good or bad... It's just different.

I'm not his girl.

I'm not anyone's girl.

So when the barely clothed brunette asks tried to slide in on our dance, I let her. I can see Pierre undressing her with his eyes and frankly I'm nearly ready to get out of here.

I don't want to compete. Not anymore.

I just want to have a smoke and go to bed. Smoke first, I take one before grabbing my purse and ordering a car.

The night air greets me like a hug and I exhale deeply into it, trying to shake the chaos from my mind.

"Ello," The last person I expected comes to keep me company. "You alright?"

I take a long drag of my joint, thinking before I speak for once "I don't know."

And I don't. I'm somewhere between a breakdown and a smile at any given moment lately, my head fully scrambled over the man next to me. I miss him. But I can't trust myself around him, if the other day was evidence of anything.

"So, Pierre then?" I can't stop from rolling my eyes, of course that's what he cares about. I was a fool to think he'd just come to keep me company.

At this point who knows what's he's upset ever. Could be italy, the dance or the fuck. But I doubt he knows about the latter yet.

"So what?" Daniel lost his right to be upset over who I fuck the moment he left me.

"So you didn't wait very long."

What the fuck? My blood is boiling at the audacity. After the last few weeks I've had plenty of time to think on what I'd say to him if I had the chance, and here's my moment. I'm irritated and there's no chance I'll stand for the same behavior he gave me in Vegas.

"Wait for what?" I snap. "For you to decide that I'm worthy of your time? For you to hear me out? I tried that. For weeks."

His brown eyes widen with shock and I look away. "What—"

"Isn't that what it boils down to?" I cut in, bitterness staining my tone. "You don't want me Daniel." My voice cracks with the words.

Truth hurts, but that doesn't make it any less true.

But looking at him now, at the emotions crashing his face... At the pain, a small part of me doubts.

"That's not true." He says and daggers of nerves shoot through me. I don't slow to down to contemplate the meaning behind it, to wound up in my own frustrations.

"Fine. I'll amend that. I'm okay to hook up with, but I don't deserve a civil conversation about what happened. Because you're the only one worthy of being upset. "

"Stop saying those words," he growls. "Worthy. Deserve. That's not what this is about."

"I wouldn't fucking know, because you can hardly speak to me." I break for the door, knowing for once when it's time to walk away before it gets ugly. He's laying claim over me like a jealous lover, when all we do with each other lately is argue.

We're at each others throats because he owns too much space in my heart. I want him, I may even fucking love him but I can't live for his approval anymore.

Every muscle in his face goes taut. It's the only outwardly discernible sign that my accusation upset him. His expression is completely shuttered. "I'm not good at this shit, Elsa" The words are hoarse, strained.

"Good at what?" I clench my fists in exasperation. "It's not that hard, Daniel! You either want to be with me, or you don't." My fingers tremble on the door handle. "So which is it?"

He hesitates.

He actually hesitates.

A ball of hurt clogs my throat. I gulp it down best as I can. "Wrong answer," I mutter, and then I all but run away, and slam the door behind me.

I don't know if the cars here yet and frankly I don't give a damn.

I just needed to break away.

It hurts too much being with him. Still too raw a wound, and I don't know if it'll ever heal at this rate. We won't let it, clawing at the scab every chance we get.

Misery burns my chest. Fuck knows I can't quite describe what I feel for him after everything's that's transpired.

But what was I asking him to do, fight for me?

I wouldn't complain if he did.

But if I've learned anything this season it's that you can't always get what you want.