A Nice Guy

13

I've been trying to focus on myself the last few weeks. No relationships meant to distract me. No obsessing over Hazel and our baby. There's so much time to figure things out, so for now I just need to focus on how to be a better version of myself. I've been reading a lot. Mostly books about parenting, regardless of how much I try to avoid them. The occasional book about self improvement, but those always bore me.

I've deleted all of my previous texts from and to Hazel. I kept finding myself reading them over and over again, feigning for her. So yeah, I had to delete them. Otherwise I'd end up going fucking insane.

Speaking of texts from Hazel, she reached out today. Asked me how I'm doing. How am I doing? Fine, really. I think about her occasionally, but I figure the less we contact each other the better I'll feel, and so far it's working. Derricks invited me over a few times, but I always come up with an excuse as to why I can't make it.

But my plan is entirely ruined when Hazel shows up at my door. I didn't realize it was her, if I had, I'd of ignored the doorbell and the future fucking events that were to take place.

February 16th. I reluctantly invite her inside. She's done her hair, makeup, has a cute outfit on. How could I turn her away? She sits on my sofa, sets her purse next to her. "Haven't seen you in a while. Thought I'd check in on you." She doesn't sound...genuine. I can't put my finger on it. Somethings off.

I shrug. "I'm good. Thanks for uh, checking on me." I scratch my head. Why am I nervous? A situation like this would usually get me hyperventilating, struggling to hold myself back from fucking pouncing on her like an animal.

She nods her head. "Yeah, no problem. That's good, that you're good." There's no emotion in her words. She doesn't mean anything she just said. What the fuck did she come here for? "You know, I've been thinking, Alex." Great, here it is. Enough beating around the bush.

I sit down next to her. "What's up?" My mind starts racing with anxious thoughts. Shes been thinking about me? The baby? Telling Derrick about us? Fuck, what is it?! She's taking so long to answer. I gently grab her arm. "Hey, talk to me."

She pulls it from my grasp and looks at me with tear filled eyes. "It's not fair. The way you get to ignore me and make me feel like this is all my fault."

I try to pull her into my arms, to comfort her, but she shakes me off. I hate seeing her cry, it kills me. "What do you mean?" I ask, combing her hair out of her face. Must be pregnancy hormones. I feel for her.

She smacks my hand away, glaring at me, tears still in her eyes. "Stop acting like you have no idea. You—you—" she has to recompose herself. She wipes away her tears, clears her throat, looks me dead in the eyes. "Alex, you've raped me multiple times, I've forgiven you and even tried to be friends, but somehow it's like, it's like I'm the bad guy and you're punishing me."

I don't know what to say. I can only stare at her in shock, disbelief, confusion. What the fuck? What the fuck was that? I raped her? When? And where the fuck was I? Was the rape in the room with us? When she invited me over and rode my dick into the fucking sunset, was the rape there with us? "What do you mean, rape?" I ask her, genuinely trying to figure out what the actual fuck she's talking about.

She buries her face in her hands and lets out an exasperated sigh. "Alex, please, please stop acting like you're oblivious. I'm tired of pretending—ignoring what's happened. Can we just be adults right now, please?"

I can barely hold my tongue, but I do. I know this is a sensitive topic. One wrong move and I'm in jail, right? Isn't that how it goes? Men get locked up just because of a mere fucking claim of rape? I carefully consider my next question. "When...when did I—" I clear my throat, look her in the eyes. "When did I do that to you?"