Trial and Error (Spank-fic)

Chapter 17: New Kinda Pain

He doesn't meet my eyes in the review mirror, but he speaks, his voice coming out in deep baritones, "Go straight to your room, Julia, and sleep."

I'm torn between staying and talking to him or bolting so he doesn't get more mad. I choose the latter, silently slipping out of the car and walking to the house.

He's still in the car, and I'm already in my bed and under the covers by the time I hear the front door creak open and Nick walk in.

I'm in for a fitful night of sleep- that I know. What I don't know is what Nick's gonna do in the morning. The churning pit in my stomach tells me it's nothing good.

____________

Morning comes faster than I want it to. I blink one second and the next, the sun is already filtering in through the blinds, casting my room with a glow that doesn't reflect my mood. I don't want to open my eyes, but every time I do I see Nick's face burned into my eyelids.

I don't want to face him. Not now, not ever.

The thing about Nick is that he's just-

There's a knock at my door. My mind screams at me to run, but my legs work on their own, bringing me to the door. Before I know it, Nick is here, in front of me. I search his eyes for any emotion- anger, sadness, disappointment- but I see none. His face is blank, unreadable.

I try to speak, but suddenly my throat is closing up, raw and scratchy. Great timing, really.

"Julia." Not Jules, just Julia.

"Y-yea?" My voice is quivering and I despise myself for it.

"Sit down," he motions to my armchair sitting in the corner, dusty from weeks of disuse. It wasn't the most comfortable chair in the world but it wasn't half-bad compared to the rags we were given at the foster agency.

He stays standing, hovering over me, arms crossed so tightly I see his muscles tense.

Risking a glance up, I flinch when I find Nick staring straight at me, his eyes pools of dark anger. "N-nick?" The previous sunlight in the room has disappeared, leaving cold, icy clouds of shadow in its wake.

"Get up." I oblige, out of fear or habit, I don't know. I can't meet his eyes, but I feel them nonetheless, burning holes in my face.

"Nick, please, I-i'm really sorry," I clear my throat, "I didn't mean to ru- to run a-"

"Julia, enough." His voice is harsh, his words so sharp they could slice cold butter. He looks at me with a fury in his eyes, "We both know you're not sorry, not in the slightest, so don't-"

"But I am!" I retort, a slight whine entering my voice. Why can't he just fucking understand that I'm SORRY? He's always so up his ass, pretending that he knows what I'm feeling! Would it kill him to just back the fuck o-

"Lose the jeans."

What?

"If you want me to understand, and not be up my ass all the time then lose your jeans, Julia."

My face goes white. There's no possible way I said all that out loud. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Great job, Julia, ya did it again.

When I still won't budge, the fear evident on my face, Nick takes a step towards me, his voice dangerously low, "If you don't take off those goddamn jeans in one second, I'll take them off for you."

I've never seen Nick like this. Sure I've seen him angry before, but never like this. He reminds me of-... of my old foster parents. The thought makes me sick to my stomach. Not Nick, not him too.