I shrug my shoulders. “Because you hardly ever do it.”
“I’m here doing it now.”
I tilt my head to glance up at him and smile.
Unspeakable emotions stir around me. We’re about half ways done with the movie. There is a spark that has ignited within me since cuddling up with Zayn. Physical touch gives me a deep connection toward him that words can’t describe. It’s a strong feeling pulsing through my body, making me want to feel more connected to him on a deeper level.
I shift slightly, aligning myself so I can better meet his eyes; his deep brown eyes capture my gaze. There’s a brief pause, a moment of silence as I reach up, my fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. He hesitates for a moment and my heart races. Then he crashes his lips against mine, the warmth of our breath mingling together. More emotions heighten as ourtongues collide together. I shift my body and slide off the couch until my knees hit the floor, separating our lips.
Zay swallows the lump in his throat as his dark eyes gaze down at me. His expression is unreadable, and I can’t tell if he wants this or not. But I continue to reach up for his waistband and tug at his pants. His hands crash down on top of mine, stopping me from going any further. Our eyes meet and he shakes his head.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I’m just not in the mood,” he says, shifting his body more upright.
I lean back, sitting on my heels, surprised by him turning me down. He has never turned me down. If anything, I’ve been the one that has turned him down. He’s always the one who wants it. Sometimes way more than me. A pang of rejection constricts my chest. Hurt blooms over me as I sit back down on the couch. Unsure of what to say, I avoid looking at him. Zay stays silent as he rewinds the parts we missed from the movie. I give him a side-eye, confused and hurt even more by his rejection, with hardly any explanation, and now he continues the movie like nothing. I lean back onto the couch, curl my legs up to my chest, and continue with the movie.
Images that have never crossed my mind are swirling in my mind now. Images and thoughts I’ve never had. He’s not only my husband but my best friend. He wouldn’t betray me like that…
Would he?
Cheating would really cross the lines for us. I always see the good in people and I see the good in him.
I glance over at him hoping he senses that I’m not okay. But he sits there in a rigid posture, staring at the TV as if he is lost in his thoughts too. He looks uncomfortable, not just physically but emotionally. His jaw is tense, and his lips are drawn thin.
“What’s wrong?” I ask confused by his demeanor. I’ve never seen him like this before. Something must be weighing heavy on him.
“Nothing,” he says, still staring at the TV.
“It’s not nothing if this is your reaction to me wanting sex with you.”
He turns his head, his eyes dead set on me. “One time I don’t want sex, and this is how you act.”
My lips part. “How I act? I dropped it and didn’t push. But the look on your face and the way your body is, it seems like something is going on.”
“Nothing is going on,” he snaps.
My eyes widen at his raised voice. He looks away from me, back at the TV. His body is even more rigid than before.
I sit back quietly, swallowing the knot in my throat. I force myself just to drop it and continue with the movie. But my insides feel sharp as I try not to pry.
I don’t feel any relief trying to let it go, but I do anyway, hoping in time he’ll talk to me about whatever is going on.
This past week blew by like nothing. Both Zay and I have been so busy with work that we have hardly talked. He’s been staying later than usual at work. He said it’s because they’ve been short on guys this week. I guess it could be true. But something tells me there’s something more going on. Something has been going on with him since that day he rejected me, and it all started after that night at the club. What could have happened? I know my thoughts wandered to cheating but I can’t see him doing that to me. Tonight is date night for us, and I want to talk to him more about what’s been bothering him.
I turn the shower on all the way to hot to get the stream rolling around in the shower before I get in. As I step in, the steam hits my face, causing me to take a deep breath. I let the water run down my face, washing off the stress of this week. Or should I say, trying to wash the stress off? Truth is, I can’t stop thinking about what’s going on with Zay. Besides him turning me down, he hasn’t been his normal self. I can’t help but wonder if it’s me. But I have done nothing wrong. I have changed over the years, but the change is for the better. For both me and him.
I turn off the shower and dry myself off. I notice how quiet the house is. Zay should have been home by now. He should have been home before I got in the shower. I continue getting ready, chalking it up to him having to work late again. Should I have asked him if he still wanted to do date night since he’s been working late?
I slip on a light pink, summery dress that hits above my knees and flows around my body. My phone shows almost eight o’clock, and Zayn still isn’t home. I pull up my call log on my iPhone and pressBabe. It rings through my ear, but there is no answer. Where could he be? He’s been coming home later, but tonight’s date night, and he would’ve said something if he couldn’t make it. I have no text messages from him. I walk back into our bedroom and slump down on the bed.
So many thoughts of what could be going on run through my mind. But I need to stop thinking the worst before I get a chance to talk to him. He can’t continue to say nothing is bothering him while he acts this strange.
Right as I’m about to turn on some music to help clear my mind, the sound of a door shutting stops me. I get up from the bed and walk over to the mudroom, where he usually takes off his greasy clothes from work. His back is toward me as he strips off his shirt and throws it in the hamper.
“Hey,” I say.
He looks over his shoulder and mumbles, “Hey.” He slides off his pants, standing there in only his boxers. When he turns fully around, he looks me up and down. “What are you dressed for?”
