Stuck in Between [BWWM]

Chapter One

We've been married for a little over five years...

Every morning she'd play with my hair until I opened my eyes to meet her pooling grey eyes. Our morning conversations would start with her commenting on my morning breathe and how it makes her want to "vomit." She's crinkle her nose playfully and gently push my face away from her. Her feet would sling over the side of the bed and she'd raised her arms high above her head. I would listen to the release of air between her bones that came from her spine and neck every morning. Blonde hair tethered to the top of her head like a heap of yellow wheat. She'd turn to look back at me and ask if I wanted coffee before she left for work. And every morning I'd say 'yes.' 

She was more than beautiful but, every man would say that about their wife. But, I believe that as my universal truth. She was the most beautiful creature--inside and out--that I've ever seen. There are things--small things--that I love about her and they create this interconnected image of her. All of her flaws and all of her strengths paint this unique portrait of the woman I love. 

The way her blonde hair falls past her shoulders and grazes the middle of her back. And how she has one pointy canine that makes her smile look quirky and beautifully crooked. I love the chestnut mole on her inner thigh that I love to kiss. I love the freckles on her shoulders from years of swimming. Her olive skin seems to glow in the summer sun. I love her tan lines from sweltering summers in our Virginia town.

Her sweet-nature and energetic soul always has a way to excite me when I least expect it. I love how her heart is bigger than most. She'll do anything for anyone. She'll break herself a thousand times for a stranger and for her family. She doesn't stay up late and we have lunch everyday together. Sometimes we'll take the rest of the day off from work and catch a movie she's been meaning to see. Everything is easy with her. She doesn't cling to me like she never going to see again. She doesn't think I'm cheating whenever I'm away from her. She loves me. She promised me her life and I promised her mine.

Her colorful and lively sweaters in the drab winters make me warm from the inside out. The way she sips coffee at the kitchen table while going through her instagram feed gives me a chance to watch her closely. Sometimes she leaves her boots in bathroom when she's in a hurry. Sometimes she leaves blood on the toilet seat when her monthly friend comes to visit. Sometimes she forgets to lock the door at night. Sometimes her lipstick stains the rim of my coffee mugs. Sometimes she ignores my text messages when I know she isn't busy. 

She's my wife...I'd be an idiot if I were to think she's a perfect human being. I love her, right?

Then why do I feel like my wife at home could never measure up to the girl standing in front of me. The girl that has my world twisted upside down. The girl that owns my heart where ever her pretty feet lead her. 

I love my wife but, I would die for this girl.

This girl--woman.

She's looking at me with her eyes the size of saucers. Her deep brown eyes can't comprehend that I'm here and honestly the feeling is mutual. I didn't know why the hell I was here either.

"What are you doing here?" She questioned aggressively.

"Someone said you'd be here, Olivia." I replied meekly. She pushed my in the middle of my chest roughly. I stumbled back a bit confused. She got really close to my face, if she wasn't angry I'd assume that she might be trying to kiss me.

"Don't say my fucking name here." She grabs my forearm and leads me to the side of some building. Her heels rhythmically clicking against the concrete and her false nails digging into my skin a little bit. She smelled like perfume that could have been bought from a dollar store but, her skin was smooth and polished. She pushed me towards the brick wall of the building.

"Who told you I was here?" She whispered out furiously.

"Does it matter?" I replied as I take my hand and softly touch her hair. What did she do to her hair?  I missed her tight curls and box-braids that she would wear in the summer. Now, she has a matted wig on her head that was slightly crooked.

"Yeah, it fucking matters because 1) I meant what I said when I said I never wanted to see you again. And 2) No one is supposed to know I'm down here." 

She slaps my hand from her hair, "Stop that!" she yells frustrated.

"What happened to your hair, Liv?" I questioned innocently.

"Nothing happened to it." She unconsciously adjusts her wig. "And don't call me by my real name. Down here my name is Cinna. You got that?" I frowned at that information. Was she in trouble or something?

"Why? Are you in trouble, Liv--I mean Cinna." She takes a step back and scoffs.

"Like you'd care if I was." 

My eyebrows furrow, "Of course I care."

"Whatever, Cole, it doesn't matter if you care or not. We have nothing to do with each other anymore. You made that very clear five years ago. Now, please, go back to you white picket fence and make sure Katie is happy." She started to walk off when I grabbed her wrist and stopped her from taking another step.

"Olivia, you're not in trouble, right?"

"If I was, you'd be the last person I'd tell." She looked me in the eyes when she said that. That's how I knew she meant it. "You should get going. You stick out like a sore thumb down here. If you aren't careful, you'll get shot." She snatches her wrist from me and walk across the street to join the other girls tipping on the street corner. It's hard to think that she's selling herself. That she might end up mutilated and dead in a ditch. This over-whelming need to save her filled me. It was gnawing at the back of my mind like a dog with a bone. I watched her approach cars and lean into windows. With a bubble-gum smile and sin oozing out of her ebony skin. 

It was hard to watch. Anger bubbled up and was starting to overflow flushing my face with a bright red. I punched the brick wall beside me and felt my knuckles bruise and bleed.

I drove home with Olivia filtering my thoughts. She was injecting herself into my brain and I couldn't stop it.  

Katie and I got ready for bed when she noticed, "Babe, what happened to you hand?" She holds my hand gently in hers. 

"I slammed it in the car door earlier." I lied.

"Oh God, you should probably clean it up and bandage it." 

She turns off her bedside lamp and snuggles deep into her side of the bed and falls asleep. I click off my lamp and lay there thinking of where she was right now. Is she pacing that corner? Is she fucking some greasy guy for $50? Is she running from the cops? Is she giving her money to her pimp? Does she even have a pimp? Why is she doing this? Why is she doing this to me?