by Xavier Neal
I attempt to swallow the swollen lump in my throat.
“Try this one.”
As air struggles to find its way back into my lungs, I reach out for it. The moment it's in my possession something inside of me hardens. Cements itself. Burrows so deep I can't just brush it off like I'm accustomed too.
Over a pumpkin? What the hell is wrong with me?! What do you mean it's not about the pumpkin? It's clearly about the pumpkin. That's...that's all I can handle it being about.
His whisper sends shivers down my spine. “Well? Is it righ', Sugar?”
In more ways than one....
**
The car ride back to the city is too quiet. While the radio is quietly playing a country mix he added a little pop music to for me, it doesn't help battle the silent tension nestled between us.
Unable to continue this route, I sigh, “Should we talk about it?”
Hunter, whose body is slightly leaned against his door doesn't bother moving. “'Bout what?”
“Whatever is bothering the hell out of you.”
His eyes flicker off the road only momentarily.
Frustration, another foreign emotion filters through my system. “What was it I said? Or did?”
“It bothers me I can't make plans with you past a couple days and even then, they're not actual plans. They're maybes.”
My lips press together and I move my attention out the window.
So many things can happen or come up. Isn't it better not to commit yourself to them? That way if they fail no one gets hurt or upset or disappointed?
“And it bothers me that I don't know if it's 'cause you don't see yourself with me for longer than a couple days at a time or if it's somethin' else.”
Quietly I reply, “Plans aren't my thing, Hunter. Why's that bad? What's wrong with living and enjoying this moment?”
“'Cause I love the idea of you bein' in my next one.”
His argument causes me to sharply turn to face him.
“Rory, your zest for makin' the most of every breath you're given is one of the things I admire about you-”
“Thank you.”
“But at the same time, it hurts to know you won't even entertain the idea of somethin' longer with me.”
“What if it doesn't happen? Then it's like I lied to you.”
He shakes his head. “At least you tried. Tryin' and failin' is different than not tryin' at all.”
Silence begins to settle between us again.
I uncomfortably wiggle in my seat, fold my hands, and confess, “I don't do....commitment. Ever.”
Hunter doesn't take his eyes off the road.
“Anything outside of work, I try to leave room in case I change my mind. Or they change theirs. Or if there's an emergency. I've been like this ever since I left for college. I've lived enough of my life trapped in choices. I'll never live like that again.” I look down at my fingers. “And it's not just in the world of dating. I'm this way with all my friends too. I'm not even a bridesmaid in my best friend's wedding because I refused to commit to the color of the dress, all activities leading up to it, and the day itself.”
There's pain in his voice, “But she's your best friend.”
“One of them.”
“Rory-”
“No. I leave room for life to happen, room to adjust to life's unwanted surprises. I'm not gonna make someone the false promise my parents made me when they said they'd be home in the morning,” I helplessly choke out, tears building out of nowhere.
What the hell? I don't cry. Crying isn't being happy. Crying isn't appreciating your life. It's mourning it.
“Sugar-”
“It's fine.” I clear my throat and wipe away the escaped tears. “It's just the way I choose to live my life. I don't ask anyone to live theirs differently and would like the same courtesy.”
To my surprise Hunter doesn't back down. “Can we meet somewhere in the middle?”
Dragging my eyes up to him, I question in a faint tone, “Like how?”
“How 'bout Halloween? That's a couple weeks away. Can we plan now to spend the holiday together?”
Hm. It's two weeks away. Much longer than I care to make plans, but not too long to where I'll feel like a bitch if something else comes up. But if I do this now, what's next? Three weeks? A month? Two? Gosh, when did it get so hot in here?
“If something comes up, it comes up. But....can we plan to spend the holiday together?”
“Like matching costumes?”
The corner of his lip tugs upward. “Is that what you want?”
“Can't say I've done it before,” I confess.
“Me either.” There's a brief pause and a chuckle. “At least this time when we try somethin' new it won't be thousands of miles off the ground.”
A giggle escapes. “We could be a pilot and flight attendant.”
“I wouldn't mind bendin' you over in a skirt like that.”
Heat runs up my thighs and I bite my bottom lip to prevent from moaning.
This is the type of conversation I enjoy having. Sexy and simple.
Hunter's grin grows. “We won't make any final decisions until a couple days closer.”
Immediately I offer him a smile of thanks.
Guess that's his own way of still meeting me in the middle.
“We don't even have to pick plans until the week of, just as long as we do somethin' together.”
As soon as the sentence is finished I snap, “Oh! One of Dean's best friends is having a party. We could possibly go to that.”
An unmistakable look crosses his face.
“What? You don't like parties? Last time I checked you knew how to rock one.”
The comment is met with a devious smirk.
Seeing him strip is something I replay repeatedly when I'm home alone in the bathtub. That performance never fails to get the engine going.
“I love a good party, but uh...Dean and I aren't exactly on good terms.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well,” he sighs. “When we first met, he tried to punch me in the face.”
“Because Megan's seen you naked?”
“In theory. But she really hasn't. She hid most of the party.”
“Doesn't matter to Dean...”
“Yeah. Tell me 'bout it. He lost his shit and went straight for my face even though I tried to explain the fact it was you I was curious about.” Hunter switches lanes as he says, “Can't say I completely blame the guy. Jus' the thought of you seein' any other man naked has me tightenin' faster than a noose 'round a criminal's neck.”
My smile is wiped away.
Did he say....Was he just talking in general? He has to be... I mean I'm not his girlfriend. Don't give me that look. I'm not. I've never been a girlfriend. Not about to start now.
“You say that like....well like I'm...your....” my inability to finish the sentence grabs his attention just as he approaches a stop light.
“Girlfriend,” he finishes without hesitation.
“I'm not your girlfriend,” I quickly retort.
The hurt expression returns to his face.
Honestly don't know if I'm more tired of seeing that look or being the reason for it.
“Pardon?”
“We're just....hanging out,” I quietly argue. “Right? We're not...there.”
Anger quivers in his voice. “There where?”
“You know the place where people call each other that. I mean I don't do that. I don't call you that.”
Hunter simply shakes his head and presses on the accelerator. His solid quiet exterior returns, yet this time I surrender to it.
Obviously I suck at these conversations, but if you ask me he's being overly sensitive about everything.
About fifteen minutes later we're carrying pumpkins inside to his penthouse as the valet parks his car. The elevator ride, the walk to the door, and placing the pumpkins on the balcony are all equally and agonizingly silent.
Finally he s
tates, “Wait here. I'll get the tools to carve 'em.”
Tugging on the sleeves of my light pink shirt, I simply nod.
Can't say the wrong thing if I'm not saying anything at all. See. Everyone stays happy this way.
When Hunter returns, he's carrying a bucket, shirtless.
And he says I don't play fair.
“Something wrong with your shirt?”
He gives me a less than inviting look. “I don't wanna get shit on it.”
“Should I just go?” My arms fly into the air. “Would you like me to leave?”
Callously he shrugs. “Do what you want. It's what you do anyway.”
Knowing that's true, but unsure of what he's implying at this very moment, I snap, “What did I say to piss you off now? That I'm not your girlfriend?”
“It bothers me more that it's not up for discussion.”
“I-”
“Nothin' seems to be up for discussion. You decide if we'll see each other and when. You decide our dates. You pick how far we can think 'bout whatever it is that's goin' on between us and you get to pick the damn label. You act like you're the only one whose side matters, Rory. Your selfishness may please you, and Sugar you know I love to please you, but I'm not lookin' to be treated like a horse you wanna ride when the mood suits. I've been that before. I won't do it again.”
A sadness thrums through me. “So....this is over?”
“Is that what you really want?” He drops the bucket to his feet. “Or is your fear of commitment makin' the choice for you?”
I tug at my sleeves again and fold my arms across my chest.
Am I really that selfish? I just...kinda do what I wanna do because my life is mine. Is that so wrong? Is it such a terrible idea at the end of the day wanting my life to reflect my own happiness? It's my life. I don't have to share....even if I did have to, I wouldn't mind it being with him.
His eyes continue to hold mine hostage until I cave in a whisper, “What is it you want from me?”
“I don't mind for one minute takin' this shit whatever speed makes you comfortable, but Sugar, I gotta know my opinion matters for somethin'.”
“It does! Didn't we go to the pumpkin patch today?”
He tilts his head sarcastically. “I gotta know I matter to you.”
“You do.”
“Then why can't I decide where we go for dinner?”
“What if I hate everything there?”
“What if you don't?” He adds, “And why haven't we slept at your place?”
“Why does it matter whose bed we fall into as long as we fall into it together?”
“Exactly.”
Realizing my point backfired, I try to shake away the building flusters.
“Why can't I call you my girlfriend?”
“Because I don't date! I don’t do that! I told you that from day one!”
“What the hell do you think we've been doin' for these past few weeks?”
“Having fun?”
“And you think bein' in a relationship means we can't have fun?”
I shrug. “From what I've witnessed, there's more fighting than fun. It's like the minute you slap a name on it, everything changes. There are expectations and-”
“Commitment.” He grunts. “Yeah. I get it. You're not a fan.”
Attitude NOT appreciated.
“Am I wrong?” I challenge. “I've never had a boyfriend before but-”
“Then you don't really know if it's that terrible.” He leans his body against the railing. “You want the truth? Some relationships are awful. I know first-hand how rough they can get. Hell, the whole reason I left everything I knew was 'cause of how terrible one got.”
“Not comforting...”
“No. Not comfortin' is finding out your girlfriend has been pokin' holes in condoms and swappin' her BC with mints to try to trap you in a relationship.”
Hold on a minute. What the hell?! First off, I barely remember to take mine, let alone can muster up the thought process to fucking switch 'em every day. Shit. That reminds me, I need to take mine when I go home tonight.
I attempt to lift the mood once more. “Is that why you like to tie women up?”
“It's why we only use condoms I buy.”
Seeing this conversation is going to get lighter, I ask, “Why would someone do that?”
“'Cause I've got a billion dollar legacy that comes with my name. The kind people will do anything to attach themselves too. And she did.”
“What exactly happened?”
“She lied and told me she was pregnant. Now, I was raised to do the righ' thing. You knock a woman up, you at least offer to do righ' by her and the kid and propose. She said yes and began to plan this extravagant weddin'. We're talkin' easily a million dollar event. Mama was thrilled at the idea of her first grandchild and Pop figured it would be the best time to start plannin' for my position with the company. Securin' a future for my unborn child. But about six weeks in, she wasn't showin' any signs. I asked to go to her next doctor's appointment with her. Couple days later she says she's had a miscarriage and my parents immediately wonder if she was ever actually pregnant. When I asked about it, it blew up in my face. She stormed away and didn't talk to me for a couple days. The night she came over to apologize for handlin' the situation poorly one thing lead to another and we made up the bes' way. She asked for it to be a little rough, which happened once in a while when she was tryin' to please me. Rather than spend the night, she went home afterwards and the next morning I've got a sheriff knockin' on my parents front door tellin' me I'm bein' accused of rape.”
My jaw drops in shock.
“To make a long, painful story short, I spent six months in court battles. The rape charge was dismissed and my family sued her for fraud, defamation of character, emotional stress and anything else they could tie to it. My name was constantly in the papers. Across the internet. I couldn't look at my professors without wonderin' if they knew what the hell I was goin' through. Hell, everywhere I went, that's all I could think 'bout. I'd see people whisper and I swear they knew. Swear they were judgin' me. When the dus' finally settled, I told my parents I needed to get away from it all. They understood.”
Still in disbelief I whisper, “That's so awful, Hunter.”
“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “I know. So believe me when I say, I know jus' how terrible relationships can get. But at the same time, these past few weeks have been the best I've ever had in my entire life.”
The admission tugs at more than my smile.
“That shit that went down did some damage, Sugar. Severe damage. Yet every time I look into those blue eyes of yours I'm grateful for it. 'Cause it led me here. 'Cause it brought me to you. And this relationship,” he motions his finger between us, “is worth riskin' heartache all over again, Sugar. At least is to me. Some relationships are shit and some are more amazin' than words could ever describe.”
A hint of a smile appears on my lips as I tease, “You sound like a girl...”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “Don't I fuckin' know it.”
Slowly moving closer, I prod, “What um....what exactly would it mean to be your girlfriend?”
“We'll keep it simple. Occasionally lettin' me make dinner plans or other dates? Particularly longer than a couple days in advance?”
“Like...committing to it you mean?”
“Yeah and dealin' with shit if it falls through. My feelin' aren't gonna be hurt if you'd rather go to the movies with your friends than watch the game with me, Sugar. They're hurt when you won't make real plans with me for fear I'm gonna hold you hostage from somethin' you wanna do more.”
I hum, slightly puzzled. “So....you'd totally be okay if I decided to go see a band play even if I had already said I would...have dinner at your place?”
He shrugs. “Every time? No. Every now and again? Of course. I don't expect your world to revolve 'round me, but talk with me 'bout it. That make sense?”
A concerned sig
h leaves me. “What else?”
“Compromisin' on times or locations?” Hunter reaches out for me. The moment his large arms are wrapped around my body, he adds, “Havin' me over to your apartment or lettin' me see where you work, at least once.”
