I Can't Own You? (BOOK 1)

34 (NEW)

After fixing and painting the wall, I pass the downstairs bathroom, feeling and seeing condensation mark the mirrors and drip down the glass; smelling Sam's favorite body wash. I go upstairs to see what Sam is up to. Instantly, I'm reminded of his apartment when I get a whiff of his cologne, menthol and apple...a scent similar to wine. "Baby?" I call with a bubbly tone.

"I'm in here."

I follow his voice, his sweet, deep voice, to the door with a label stating: guest bedroom. Hmm...why is he in the guest room? "What's up?" I stand at the door's threshold, watching him sit on the edge of a white bed. He's completely exhausted. I guess after the back seat session; he didn't get much sleep, and my driving didn't help.

"Just tired." Drowsiness clouds his voice and eyelids.

I near him, rubbing his hair around like a pet, then kiss his forehead. "I warned you to get sleep in the car." My fingers trail his veiny arms, down to his hands. "I'll wake you when dinner's ready." Sam stares up at me with a transparent bleakness, as if he's lost a limb. "Sam...hey." I kneel and clasp his hands, shocked. "Tell me what's wrong."

He fixes his look of woe. "Nothing.

My mind jumps back to the thought I had not too long ago that I waved away. "What did my mom say?"

"Chris, let's not start this up again...just enjoy the visit."

"You didn't answer the question."

"And I'm not going to."

I push off of the floor, dropping his hands and staring daggers at him, scanning him up and down. Pissed. "You're in the guest room...all of a sudden, you're avoiding me."

"Drop it!" He shouts.

"Or what?" I inch closer, challenging a rising tipping point.

Sam stands, towering over me like a giant, his muscles tight around a button-up shirt. Testosterone pulsates off of him, searing through his breaths, his chest pumps. I back away a bit scared, but I hold my ground. "Enough, damn it!" He grits his teeth.

Something is off...it isn't just him being sleep deprived. It's something more. I back away, not hiding my fear and disbelief as my boyfriend tests me. What is going on?

I ponder over what happened in that fucking car, as I soak in a cool bubble bath. A whiff of coconut milk saturates my skin, soaking it with shine. The white bubble crinkle and shake as I breathe deeply.

Ugh...why is shit crumbling apart so much? WHY?! I don't understand. I don't want any more drama, yet it keeps finding a way. I use a brown, exfoliating sponge, taking my anger out with harsh scrubs to my skin. Huffing and scrunching my face, while the water rises in level and splashes.

I should ask mom, it seems she and Sam argued and now he's upset.

After my bath, I sit on a backporch, a view of a fenced in backyard and a treehouse. The ambiance soothes my tossed mood...slows my thoughts, yet a pinch of irritation still lurks.

Not even one day here and there are issues. My mom isn't going to budge; neither is this new side of Sam. So...maybe, I could...I may need to just drop it for now. My heart is too stressed; I haven't recuperated from anxiety or physical exertion. I need proper sleep. I can't keep fighting it off. I feel Sam will wind-down; it just isn't a good time to question him. He's different...and hopefully, it's temporary.

"Dinner's ready." My father announces from behind me. "You look skinny, come get a full plate."

In paneled dining room, I find Sam already at the table.