My chest rose and fell heavily, another screaming match between me and Y/N just ending. I lied sprawled on the couch, my girlfriend of three years settled on the one adjacent to it. Neither of us spoke for fear of another tormenting debacle escalating.
I can feel her glare piercing at me, daring me to look at her, daring me to say something so she could retort, daring me to make her prove she was right. But instead of falling into her angry beckoning, I clenched my jaw and jabbed at my temple with my fore and middle finger, trying profusely to rid of the aching tension.
"I don’t know why the hell you always do this, Y/N," I spoke more so to myself, but having hawk ears, Y/N heard me loud and clear. "Maybe I wouldn’t do this if you wouldn’t keep things from me!" she responded at a much louder tone than I had proceeded in.
Again, another verbal altercation elevated into something that wasn’t necessary. I could barely hear myself over her accusations of cheating, and I could feel the heat crawling up my neck as I leaned forward onto my knees, intent in making my point.
"Why do you always think I’m cheating on you?!" I wondered incredulously over her irrational notions. "Yeah, I hang out with the guys at clubs, but so what? That doesn’t give you any reason to believe I would cheat on you!"
"What about those numbers on your phone, Roc? Don’t think I didn’t see those tricks blowin’ up your phone," Y/N’s voice lowered to an ungenerous octave. She sat back against the couch, her arms crossed tightly as she waited for an explanation.
"Babe-,"
"Don’t call me that," she sneered. "I’m mad at you."
I let the agitated air blow through my nose as I situated my words into something more accommodating for her mood. “Y/N, those numbers arenot from girls at some club. They work down at the company. We’re workin’ on a project together,” I explained the reasoning for the females’ digits etched into my contact list.
Her eyes squinted into slits, scrutinizing me carefully as she let the words soak in. “I don’t believe you,” she came to a conclusion ultimately, shifting her gaze elsewhere.
Another series of silent thoughts echoed leisurely throughout the room. I was in indecision. All I wanted to do was hold Y/N in my arms, but her rigid posture persuaded me otherwise. I started to speak again, but the sharp look she shot me silenced me once again.
I tried once more, this time prevailing, but not without some of her input. This time, I shot her daggers, and she quieted herself, but not without an evil look and the tightening of her jaws.
"Y/N, I love you. I will love you till the death of me. But this ain’t gon’ work if you keep accusing me of things I didn’t even do. Why can’t you just trust me enough to know that I’m not like Damian?” I saw her cringe slightly at the sound of her ex’s name. Damian had cheated on her with one of her cousins and got her pregnant, all to her oblivion until the baby was born with a stolen pair of his eyes.
"I do trust you …" she promised. She turned her face away from me, but I knew her well enough to know that she was crying. "But it’s hard," she accumulated. "I know how girls are, Roc. You’re a really, really good looking guy … and I know what girls would go through to get at you, and I know how boys can get caught up in the moment, too,” she voiced the latter part quietly, like she didn’t want to say it, but simultaneously wanted me to make sure I knew.
"Y/N, I am not like other guys. I would never hurt you … why would I go out of my way to find some bimbo when I have a perfectly fine and sexy woman waitin’ for me at home? Trust me baby, no one could do me like you do. You are my heart and soul, and my heart isn’t complete without you. I love you.”
An audible sniff came from her side of the room. I saw her swipe her palm under her eyes, in need of my embrace. But I knew her pride got in the way of letting her make the first move in the reconciling process.
I exhaled, dropping my gawk to the floor before returning it to her saddened face. “Babe, come here,” I beckoned. She glanced at me, sighed, then elevated from her seated position on her lonely couch. My arms reached out to her as she ambled over to me, her jeans and black tank top rounding her curves perfectly. I let my hands cup her hips, settling her down into my lap.
"Look," I began, tucking her bang behind her ear and brushing away a tear that had fallen onto her cheek. "I will never hurt you. You’re too perfect to scar. I hate sleepin’ without you by my side at night, I hate not having you by my side period … so can we make up now, ‘cause the pain hurts too much."
She dropped her gorgeous orbs from mine, but I placed my fingers under her chin, lifting her face back up to mine. “Please?”
She studied me quietly for a moment, contemplating her next move. Her fingers brushed my cheek softly, and she leaned in, touching her cushioned lips with mine. They moved together for a moment before she pulled away.
"I don’t want to go to bed with you mad at me either."
