Maybe Not (Maybe #1.5)(22)
“He’s riveting,” she says with a fake smile. “I’m having so much fun, I’ll probably ask him to stay the night.”
I smile, knowing that won’t happen. “He’ll never agree to that, Bridgette,” I tell her. “In fact,” I look down at my wrist and tap it. “I’m pretty sure he’ll be leaving as soon as he exits the restroom.”
She sits up straight on the couch and then comes to a quick stand. She stalks over to me, pointing her finger, pushing it against my chest. “What did you do, Warren?”
The bathroom door opens and Guy walks out. Bridgette faces him with her obnoxious, fake smile. “Want to hang out in my room?” she says, walking toward him.
He glances at me and I shake my head, quickly. For all he knows, I’m just warning him, man-to-man, that he better run while he still can.
I can tell he’s terrified after seeing what all I’ve planted in the restroom. He glances at the door and back at Bridgette. “Actually, I was just about to leave,” he says. “I’ll call you.”
The next few seconds are the most awkward seconds I’ve ever seen play out between two people. He reaches in for a handshake, she goes in for a hug, he backs away, afraid she’s about to try to kiss him, and his eyes grow wide with fear. He rushes around her and heads straight for the door. “Nice to meet you, Warren. I’ll call you later, Bridgette.”
And he’s gone.
She slowly turns to face me. Her eyes are as sharp as diamonds. I’m scared they’re sharp enough to slit my throat. I wipe the smile from my face and walk toward my bedroom. “Goodnight, Bridgette.”
Nice try, Bridgette.
Nice try.
• • •
“Son of a bitch!”
My bathroom door swings open and she marches straight toward my bed. I was studying, but I quickly throw my books aside when I see her coming at me. She jumps onto the bed, standing, and walks across it. She holds her hands up in the air and that’s when I notice she’s holding something. I notice it too late, though, because the cream squirts out of the tube and onto the top of my head.
“Hemorrhoid cream?” she yells, tossing it aside. She grabs another tube of cream that was tucked under her arm.
“Wart remover?” She squeezes it onto my pillow. I’m trying to cover my head with the blanket, but she’s getting the stuff everywhere. I pull her legs out from under her and she falls on the bed, then she starts kicking me, and throwing the tubes at me.
“Cold sore relief?” She squirts that one right in my face. “I can’t believe you put all these in our bathroom! I swear to God, you’re a little boy, Warren. A jealous little boy!”
I pull the rest of the tubes from her hands and I wrestle her onto her back, locking her arms to the mattress.
“You’re such an *,” she yells.
I struggle to hold her still. “If I’m an *, then you’re a coldhearted, calculating, ruthless bitch!”
She grunts, trying to free herself from my grip. I refuse to budge, but I also do my best to remove the anger from my voice and speak to her calmly.
“What was that about, Bridgette? Huh? Why the hell did you bring him here?”
She stops struggling long enough to smile in my face. Knowing that my jealousy makes her smile pisses me off even more. I hold both of her wrists with one hand and reach beside her head, grabbing a tube of the cream. I flip the lid open and squirt it in her hair. She starts thrashing beneath me and God, I’m so mad at her.
Why would she do that?
I grab her jaw and hold her face so she’ll look at me. She realizes she’s not overpowering me physically, so she relents. Her chest is heaving and she’s gasping for breath. I can see anger in her eyes. I have no idea what gives her the right to be mad, when she’s the one f*cking with my head.
I lower my forehead to hers and close my eyes. “Why?” I say, breathless. The room grows quiet. “Why did you bring him here?”
She sighs and turns her head. I pull back and look down on her, convinced I see more pain in her features than anger. Her voice is quiet when she speaks. “Why’d you let another girl move in today?”
I know that was hard for her, because her question proves that she cares. That question proves that I wasn’t the only one fearing a new roommate would come between us. She’s scared I’ll move on. She’s scared that Sydney is going to come between us, so she tried to hurt me first.
“You think things might change between us just because another girl moved in?” I ask her. She looks over my shoulder so she doesn’t have to look me in the eyes. I tilt her jaw and make her look at me. “Is that why you brought him here?”
Her eyes narrow and she tightens her lips, refusing to admit she was hurt.
“Just say it,” I beg. I need her to say it out loud. All I need is for her to admit she brought him here because she was hurt and scared. I need her to admit that there’s an actual heart inside her chest. And that sometimes it beats for me.
Since she won’t admit it, I’ll admit it for her. “You’ve never let anyone close enough to where their absence could hurt you. But it would hurt you if I left you, so you wanted to hurt me first.” I press my lips closer to her ear. “You did,” I whisper. “Seeing you walk through that door with him hurt like hell. But I’m not going anywhere, Bridgette, and I’m not interested in anyone else. So that little game you tried to play backfired, because from now on, the only man you’re allowed to bring home is the one who already lives here.” I slowly pull back and look her in the eyes. “Understood?”