CHAINED UP

Chapter 8 | Blame Me

After last night's kiss, I cannot feel the same way around him. I cannot stop thinking about it since it happened.

"Do you have a headache?" I keep talking and show some worry, and he nods. "Hm. I do," he slides his hands in his pockets and peeks at his food again. "There's a pill here," I lean over and grab it, and I hand it to him with his glass of water.

"Thank you," he swallows what will alleviate the pain, and he places the glass back on the table, so I move to the kitchen to serve myself, but he follows me instead of sitting down to dig in.

"Did I bother again last night?" he surprises me with some physical contact, sticking his warm body to the back of mine and guarding it against the counter. "No. You didn't."

"I remember waking up in the middle of the night and feeling you against me, so no need to lie," he does not move away as I can feel my heart pound inside me. "I'm not lying. You didn't bother. You just called me, and I had to come, otherwise, you'd have slept at your doorstep."

"What do you mean?" he takes his hand away from the counter and frees some space for me to breathe, and I turn around to face him. "You couldn't find your keys, which I actually found in your jacket this morning."

"What time was it?" he speaks in a low and calm voice, not seeming upset, neither on the verge of being. "Around one a.m, I think? I'm not sure, but I was awake anyway."

"And how did you even get here? Not on foot, I hope," he believes I will walk all alone in the dark and empty streets, and I open my eyes wide. "Hell no. I called an Uber again."

"It's still not that safe. Some of them are fucking creeps," he says some sad truth I wish I could contradict. "But it's the best option."

"It's not. The best option is to stay at your house and ignore me, and you know I'm right," he states, and I show a smile. "You're very wrong."

A heavy sigh escapes his nose, and against expectations, he wraps his arms around me and holds me tight.

"I'm sorry for being such a fucking asshole," he tells in my ear, still unaware of how I feel about him. "You're not. Stop talking about yourself that way," I hug him back, last night's memories affecting the impact this connection has on me.

He slides one hand up my back to tangle his fingers in my hair and presses his soft lips against my cheekbone. "I don't deserve you. You're too good," he pulls away and takes hold of my dish to go back to the table, and I walk behind.

He puts the food right in front of his and sits down, so I do the same.

"Did it go well with Matthew last night?" he mentions him, and I confirm. "Yeah. It was fun."

"Fun?" he stuffs his mouth with some bread. "Weren't you supposed to work?"

"We did, but I find it fun to work with him," I smile and explain what might sound odd to him. "Hm, that's good then. As long as he doesn't distract you."

"He doesn't, he jokes a lot, but he's serious too," I defend him so that Rafael does not have to worry, and he nods. "Fine."

"Did you have a good time with your colleagues yesterday?" I finally ask him, hoping for that evening to have been enjoyable. "Yeah, the bimbo wasn't there, so it was pretty cool. I swear I wasn't supposed to drink and wanted to hold back just for you, but most of the guys were drinking, and they got me a shot of vodka, so...I drank the first one, but as soon as I drink just a bit of alcohol, I just cannot stop, and last night, I couldn't."

"You shouldn't let them pressure you," I do not show any disappointment but sadness, and I notice his eyes go down. "I know, but I don't want to use that excuse when I know I was tempted. I felt like shit after the first shot because I told you I wouldn't, but I thought like a kid and told myself that you were with Matt, so it wouldn't matter."