Beneath Your Beautiful (A Chenford | The Rookie Fanfic)

Part Twenty-One: The Morning After

Week 1, Day 4: Wednesday

Tim gets dressed while Lucy is in the bathroom and then sinks down onto the bed, pressing his palms into his eyes. What the fuck did he just do?

He's not sure what he regrets more — how far he'd let things get last night without first making sure they were on the same page or how he'd let his need to regain control this morning drive him back to a coldly compartmentalized and detached version of himself to 'fix' the situation in the worst possible way.

He's not even sure why he had felt such an intense need to push her away; he had actually been almost angry with her.

And then it had been like he had suddenly woken up — seen her as Lucy, the affectionate and caring woman who had done nothing to hurt him, and not as some kind of threat. And it had felt like she was slamming her tiny little fist as deeply as possible into his gut with only her eyes. He's not sure he'll ever stop seeing it in his head — the intensity of her confusion and hurt and distress as she tried to process his words. He hadn't been prepared for how her reaction would make him feel. Hadn't given much thought to her feelings at all when he'd chosen his words.

And it's not that he doesn't still have his concerns or doesn't think that his reasons for pumping the brakes are valid. He does. But there were probably about a million better ways he could have handled the situation. It's not her fault he can't see this process working for him, that he can't see her as the woman he will spend the rest of his life with.

He scrambles to his feet the minute Lucy emerges from the bathroom, desperate to clean up his mess, but she is already turning to leave, grabbing her phone, wallet, and a key to the room on her way out.

His stomach bottoms out when he sees that she has her suitcase with her, and suddenly the reality that he very well could never see her again if she decides to leave washes over him.

His heart doesn't leave his throat until he sees her shove the bag into the closet, and she's reaching for the door when he finally spurs himself into motion.

He strides across the room, "Lucy, can you please just let me —" And it's barely even a graze, his fingers brushing her elbow as he reaches to stop her, but as soon as he makes contact he realizes his mistake.

She whirls on him and he takes a step back. Her eyes are steely and he can feel the anger radiating from her. She crosses her arms and stares at him, and he realizes she's waiting for what he has to say.

He pauses, a little taken aback at seeing so much distrust in her gaze that, up until this point, had always been so open to him. He swallows, "Lucy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt —"

She scoffs, "Are you kidding me right now? I think that's exactly what you meant to do."

He stares at her in confusion; does she really think he had intended to hurt her? "No, that's not —" he stops short, realizing that arguing his intent isn't going to change the impact.

"I handled this badly. I know that. I just — I think a strong physical connection can sometimes distort —" His eyes soften, "I care about you, and I don't want to mislead you about where I'm at — emotionally." He rubs his hand over his face; he's getting this all wrong again. "Look — I don't think I'm explaining this well. I—"

Lucy holds up a hand to stop him, and the coldness in her voice seems to surprise them both, "I don't need you to explain it to me, Tim. I'm not an idiot. And I'm not a child. I don't need you to teach me the difference between physical and emotional intimacy. If you wanna be an asshole for the next seven weeks, you go ahead. But don't pretend like it's because you're thinking about my feelings. No one that actually cared about me would treat me the way that you have."

Tim flinches, but she continues, "Believe it or not, one night of sex with you did not cause me to fall hopelessly in love with you. "

He opens his mouth to protest but then stops because, as awful as it sounds in her words, it is a pretty accurate summary. Hadn't he been worried that their night together would lead to her having feelings that he didn't have any intention of reciprocating, that she'd begin to expect more from him in this experience than he was willing or able to give?

"And Tim?"

He meets her eyes so she knows that he's listening.

"If you touch me again, I'll punch you in the face."

His eyes widen as he quickly nods his understanding. And then the door is slamming shut behind her with a bang before Tim is fully able to process what just happened.

***

He doesn't see Lucy again after their confrontation, except for a quick glimpse of her chatting briefly with someone in production. It's Brad — the PA that had basically tried to grope her on their wedding day. Tim feels his whole body tense, hating that something he had done may have led to her going to him for a favor. Though he certainly can't blame her for finding a way to bail out on the casual afternoon of group activities on the beach.

He half-heartedly plays a few games of volleyball and listens to the others chattering away about their excursions from the day prior and how their relationships are going so far, and he can't help but realize how much he wishes she was here with him. Everything over the past few days has been better with her by his side.

He feels a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach at the realization that it's unlikely the rest of their time together is going to be anything other than misery for them both.

He bolts up to the room the first chance that he gets when they break for lunch but she's not there. He sighs, feeling more and more compelled to make sure she's okay with every hour that passes, but she is, of course, entitled to her space and doesn't even owe him a single conversation at this point if she doesn't want one.

He tries again later in the afternoon, this time attempting to text her, though he's pretty much expecting she will ignore him. "I'm sorry. I feel like I owe you a proper explanation. Can we talk?"

And later, "Can you at least just let me know you're okay?"

He sighs, dropping down onto the bed, realizing how much he hates this. And it doesn't even make sense. He didn't even know this woman a week ago. She is a grown-ass adult who was doing just fine before they'd met. She hardly needs him keeping tabs on her.

But he can't deny that on some level, he feels responsible for her, even oddly protective toward her. Clearly, an instinct that had gone missing this morning when he had stomped on her heart, but an instinct all the same. Stupid reality show or not, she is technically his wife, and not knowing that she's okay, where she is, or if she's even going to come back is striking a nerve that's a little too familiar for him in a very painful way.

His phone vibrates — she's responded with the middle finger emoji.

He laughs out loud. The response is far more than he deserves. But he's starting to realize that Lucy has more grace in her pinky finger than he does in his entire body.