My Possessive Creator (Book II)

(3) Compromise

(3) Compromise

He was still too stubborn to speak to me. It’s been two nights and he’s only mumbled a few words my way. What hurt most was that he wouldn’t touch me. I mean, I haven’t exactly been all come and get it, but that never stopped him before. He sat on the couch with a laptop placed firmly on his lap and the television on some retro station that had black and white shows. I opened the front door and was grinning when I saw that my clothes had arrived. I began to carry the boxes upstairs and into the master bedroom.

Immediately, I took off my men’s t-shirt and began to change into some under clothes, one of the pairs of jeans, and one of the graphic tees that I ordered. The dress I ordered came in a fancy white box and was lying in there softly. My fingers touched the green fabric, feeling just how silky and light the material was. Though I wanted to try it on, I had to wait. Right now I had to make things right with Xavier by talking and sharing feelings. That thought was foreign to me.

As I entered the room I was a bit nervous at how this talk might go. Will he be furious and throw something, or will he just not listen? I sat down in one of the chairs and looked at him with a gentle smile. “Hey… Can we talk?” Those words were so strange coming out of my mouth.

He raised a brow. “About what?”

“You know what… The tattoo.”

He scoffed and closed his laptop to give me his full attention. “What of it?”

“I think we should, err, discuss the issue…” I was very tempted to grab a bottle of scotch off of the shelf and start gulping now. I wasn’t used to expressing feelings or anything like that. Xavier and I were mostly, err, physical over the decades. Sure he was always asking what I was thinking or would express his feelings about something involving me. “Why are you so offended by this?” I then lifted my shirt to show the mark on my hip.

His eyes roamed over it for a moment before he let out a scoff. “Are you kidding me? You have the name of a man you ran away with. How am I not offended by it?”

I nodded professionally while trying not to wince at the harsh tone he used. “So… You are jealous of Axel-“

“Don’t say his name,” he growled.

“You are jealous of him and dislike the fact that you can’t escape him?”

“Jealous would imply there is competition, love. In case you don’t remember, he’s dead.”

My expression twisted at the memory. “I’m very well aware of that, Xavier. I just don’t understand why his name would bother you so bad. I have my friend’s name on my hip as well, yet you never make comment on that.”

He was quiet for a moment while flexing his fingers. “I hate tattoos. You shouldn’t have them.”

In a lot of ways, Xavier and I are opposite. If he were human, he would be the man that would go out to his job during the day while his wife stayed at home to clean and stay away from the outside world. He would probably even expect dinner on the table at an exact time and then the wife to make herself available afterwards. I knew he liked the classic way of life. He likes his women respectable with knee-length clothing, high collars, and long hair that is usually curled tightly or at least looked nice and neat.

As for me, I was one for modern culture. I realized that I like jeans with holes in the legs and black nails with heavy makeup or piercings and tattoos. My love for knee-length skirts and high collars was like a pet owner’s love for bathing their dog. It was something I just did. “I like tattoos,” I explained while trying to hold eye-contact with him.