A Nice Guy

36

It's June 21st, officially one month from Hazel's due date.

She's been treating me a little less shitty lately. Mainly because I have to drive her to her appointments and wherever else she needs to go since Derrick kept the car he'd gifted her. That's all she's mentioned to me about the situation between them.

I'm glad he kept the car; it'll help her develop a sense of dependency for me, and not only that, she'll start to trust me again. I'll prove to her that I can handle the appointments and getting her to them on time, the countless errands she needs to run and never complaining about how long they take...

And they do take long. I've been sitting in my car, waiting for her to finish her Target shopping for at least an hour now. I should've gone in with her, but I needed to give her this time away from me. Give her a break, let her know I care about her having some personal space.

I mindlessly scroll my phone, waiting. The AC's blasting because of course it's another ninety-five degree day. After waiting another twenty minutes, I watch as Hazel exits the building with a shopping cart piled high with bags and baby supplies. I exit the car and take it upon myself to push the cart. I tell her to sit inside and relax, and she hands me my credit card she'd used for the shopping.

After placing most of the items in the trunk, I throw whatever couldn't fit in the back seat. I return to the driver's seat, and we sit in silence for a minute or two. I'm waiting for her to speak first, since she has yet to say a single word to me today.

She clicks her seatbelt into place. "Thanks," she mutters. "Can we go now?"

I turn in my seat to stare at her. She looks tired, and her hair is in that same messy bun at the top of her head. But again, it doesn't look effortless and beautiful as it once did, it looks dirty and untamed. I frown at the sight of her.

She squints her eyes at me, as if confused. Then, as if she'd read my mind, she self consciously tucks some loose hairs behind her ears. I watch as her indifferent demeanor shifts to embarrassment and shame. "Will you help me shower when we get home?" She asks. Her voice is small, and her eyes are glued to her hands in her lap. "I don't have the energy to wash my hair lately."

I continue to stare at her, thinking. Something just clicked. She cares about what I think, meaning even if she does hate me, it's temporary. Which I figured was the case, anyways, but having confirmation that her hatred for me is indeed just a phase changes everything. I'd been secretly terrified of her packing her things and moving in with her parents, but now I'm nearly certain she wouldn't do that.

They wouldn't be too open to the idea, anyways. She had told them the situation with Derrick, and they took his side. Yeah, they took his side over their own daughter's, but given the circumstances how could you blame them? They don't know the full truth, and likely never will.

I blink a few times, grounding myself to the present conversation. "Yeah," I tell her, facing forward once more.

I drive us home, and when she attempts to carry a few of the bags inside, I pull them away from her. "I'll take care of this. Go get the shower ready for us." She gives me this weak smile, like she can't force herself to give me a full one. I hand her my keys to unlock the front door, watching as she walks away from me.

I finish bringing in the bags, leaving them scattered randomly on the countertops and floor. I follow the sound of running water, stopping at the bathroom door. I attempt to open it, but it's locked. Fuck. She got me. She wanted to get my hopes up just to mess with me. I can only laugh while shaking my head in disappointment.

Just as I'm about to walk away, the door is unlocked. I hear it click, and the door is pulled open. Hazel's standing with frustrated tears pouring from her eyes. Her hair tie is stuck in her hair, and she's already attempted to pull it out, which only made it worse.

I pout my lip. "Poor baby," I tease. I walk in, eyeing her. This wasn't her plan, I can tell. She really did mean to fuck with me and lock me out, but now she needs my help. I gently place my hand on her shoulder, guiding her to the toilet for her to take a seat. "I'll fix it," I tell her. I pause. "Do you want me to fix it?" Obviously I know she does, she's hopeless right now. I just want to hear her voice again. I just want her to say she needs me, even if it's for something so small.

She exhales. "Obviously." Annoyance is evident in her tone, which only makes me hard. It's the way her voice gets when she's sarcastic; breathy and smooth, that turns me damn near feral.

I wrap my hand around her matted hair, lifting her head so that she's forced to meet my eyes. "Ask me to."

She stares at me. "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. It's a lot of work, ask nicely."

I watch as she rolls her eyes, smacking my arm away from her. I'm standing right in front of her, my bulge inches from her face. Once she notices how hard my dick is, her face grows red. She looks up at me again, but I just raise my brows at her expectantly.

She heaves out a long, drawn out breath. "Please, Alex," she says in defeat.

I smile at her, amused. I gently pull the elastic band from her hair, trying my best to avoid yanking any strands out in the process. When I'm done, I toss it into the trash bin. She immediately runs her fingers through the mess, attempting to rid it of its awful tangles. It's no use, though. She's just making herself more upset.

I pull the shower curtain open. "Get in."

She stands, reluctantly removing her clothes, stripping down to nothing in front of me. My dick twitches as I watch her. I remove my own clothes, and she watches as I pull down my pants, freeing my erection. I glance down at it and can't help but think about how all of what's happened is because of a single man and his dick. The look on her face tells me she might be thinking the same exact thing.

If that's not power, I don't know what is.