“It’s not your place to have to care for me. I’ll be fine, and I know you’d probably like to have your life back. As of tonight, my savagery crossed a line. I’ve never let someone get to me the way that… whatever it was did,” I grumble. “Then you got attacked.”
He snickers lightly, and then he stands to his feet to find a more relaxed set of pants to wear. I try to turn away as he peels off the destroyed shirt, and then I feel the torture of my body still wanting his without the effects there to blame.
“Are you okay now?” he asks softly while pulling his pants over his boxers, and it’s all I can do not to attack him of my own free will.
No I’m not okay. I love you again, you son of a bitch.
“I’m fine now, really,” I lie.
“I’ve got some research to do right now. I’ll be in the living room if you need me,” he mutters, and then he ducks out of the room.
Why can’t I just tell him how I feel? Because he’s finally over you, and it would be cruel to force him back now.
I don’t fight the sleepiness overtaking me, and I stare at the beautiful man in the other room as he studies the facts of the craziness that has evolved all around. His eyes never look for mine at all.
He’s really over it.
