Mess To Be Made

62

The sound of my bedroom door folding into place in its frame echoed around me like a shield. The definitive sound was the grounding I needed, the spark to keep my fire alive from the thick, suffocating air that hung between us.

I whirled to Tyler, already settled on the edge of my bed. His eyes, the hazel shade darker than usual, gave me nothing and my spine stiffened with my back pressed up against the door. "So. What's up?"

His eyes flashed in warning. "What's wrong."

That startled me enough to nearly fall completely back against the door. "What's wrong? What do you mean, what's wrong? You tell me."

His eyes narrowed with a resolute challenge I recognized. A typical Tyler response. But I didn't miss how his eyebrows threaded together in concern and confusion—a hint of compassion. "You shut down when I asked if we could talk."

I was so frustrated, I almost laughed. I fisted my hands by my side so I wouldn't throw them in the air. "Yeah, because you never want to talk, Tyler. What am I supposed to think?"

"What did you think?" he fired back, his brow now matching his narrowed gaze.

"That you—" I gasped in a breath of air, struggling to get strangled words out. "That you wanted—"

God. I was shaking, almost writhing with how angry I was. That I couldn't get my own fucking words out of my mouth. That I couldn't say it. Because I didn't want it to be true.

I finally exhaled, though it came out as more of a cough, and squeezed my watering eyes shut. "To end things."

I almost shrieked when—in what had to be less than two seconds—his hand snaked around the side of my neck while the other cupped my cheek. My eyes flew open to view a pair of hazels, glaring at me. The intensity of his piercing gaze was a stark contrast to his gentle touch. "You think I want to end things?"

I could barely breathe when he was this close to me, looking at me like I was the only thing that mattered.

"What am I supposed to think?" I barely whispered in response.

His voice was sharp when he snapped back, "What do you mean things, Allie."

I swallowed, knowing in that moment, I was cornered. And even if I wasn't, I had to be candid.

Even if it hurt. I knew I couldn't keep doing this. I couldn't keep holding onto this fear.

"I mean us."

"Is us just a thing to you?"

"You tell me, Tyler," I repeated my words. Inside, I was squirming under his watchful eyes and intoxicating touch. But, I was not going to let him turn my own words against me. "I know I'm your girlfriend now, but in a few months will I just be a thing to you? Because you sure as hell haven't made it clear."

He blinked, and I watched closely as the fervent energy surrounding him seemed to dissipate into thin air. His firm grip on me slacked, his eyes a revealing shade of brown.

It bothered me that I couldn't figure out if I was witnessing his last wall crumble or watching him scramble to build another one up. The monotony in his tone wasn't giving me any leads either when he said, "You're not getting it."

I blanched. I wasn't getting it. That was his argument?

"I'm..." he barely got the one word out, his even voice suddenly cracking. He winced and my hand found his forearm, trying to keep him steady and present. Selfishly, I'd do just about anything to keep him here, in this state of vulnerability.