Friends

Chapter 10

Jasmine's POV:

"It's not that I can't communicate—I just don't want to," I say, shifting my legs on his lap. Marc is seated on the couch while I lie down, my legs draped over him.

"Why don't you want to communicate?" Marc asks with a hint of judgment in his voice.

"Please, don't use that tone. You don't understand. For me, communication often means conflict, and I'm afraid it might drive us apart," I reply, feeling a knot of anxiety tightening in my chest. Marc seems to sense it, and he starts gently rubbing my feet. The sensation is unfamiliar and soothing, and the way he's looking into my eyes while doing it makes me feel vulnerable in a way I haven't before.

"We live together. It's not exactly easy to avoid each other," he says, his tone a mix of sarcasm and playfulness.

"But that's different with you. With Kendrick, it would usually end in an argument whenever I tried to talk. Then I wouldn't hear from him for days," I admit, my voice rising with the memory of recent fights.

"Are you okay?" Marc asks, his concern evident.

"My mind keeps drifting back to the last fight Kendrick and I had. Right after we had sex, he decided to tell me about a girl he liked. I was so hurt and angry that I told him he should be with her instead if he liked her so much. That set him off, and he started yelling, which is something I can't handle at all. I told him I wasn't comfortable with him raising his voice, and his response was, 'Then don't make me angry.' That only fueled my anger more. I told him I was upset about him talking about another woman, but at least I wasn't yelling. In the end, he said we needed space to cool down, and I haven't heard from him in four days," I say, my voice trembling and my body tensing with the memory.

"So, if I'm understanding this right, you avoid communication because it often leads to a fight, which you fear will push people away," Marc says gently, still massaging my feet. His gaze never leaves mine, and the way his touch calms me makes me wonder how someone with such a perfect touch could still be single.

"That's right," I say, feeling a surge of appreciation for how deeply Marc is listening. I couldn't have asked Kendrick to be this attentive. Marc's focus is unwavering; he looks only into my eyes as if nothing else exists in the room.

"Jasmine, I think you're an incredible woman. Having you in my life is something I truly cherish. I'm not dumb enough to take such a remarkable opportunity for granted," he says, his serious tone making his words feel even more heartfelt.

"Are you saying Kendrick is dumb? He's not dumb," I snap, feeling a defensive edge creep into my voice.

"I'm saying that a smart man would recognize the value of what he has and wouldn't be so quick to let it go. If I were in his place, I'd be fighting for every moment I could with someone as amazing as you."

"Well, you're not him, and you don't understand our dynamic, so you shouldn't be speaking on it," I snap, my frustration clear as I fold my arms tightly across my chest. He doesn't know the depth of what Kendrick and I have shared or what we've been through.

Marc suddenly stops massaging my feet, his fingers pausing mid-motion. His face tightens, and I can't tell if he's angry or hurt, but his expression is unreadable.

"Don't speak about things you don't understand, Marc," I say sharply, my voice strained. He places my legs gently on the couch, stands up, and walks toward his room, his movements deliberate and silent.

"Where are you going?" I ask, my voice trembling as my heart sinks into my stomach. My throat tightens and feels dry, echoing the sinking feeling I had when Kendrick left my room. Why does everyone leave me?

"You're just going to walk out on me like Kendrick did and still claim you're not foolish?" I shout, my voice cracking and breaking under the strain. I'm desperate for a reaction, anything, but Marc doesn't look back. The door closes with a final, echoing thud, leaving my shouts unanswered and the room feeling colder and emptier.