Mickey - The View From Here PART TWO - Gallavich

Insecure

After a chat with the realtor, Ian and I headed to the outdoor heated pool and I began to strip.

“Oh, you were serious about that,” Ian observed as I pulled my shirt over my head.

“Fuck, yeah,” I beamed at him with affection before dropping my jeans to around my ankles.

Anxiously, he glanced around for onlookers. “We don’t even have bathing suits.”

I scoffed and shed my boxers to stand before him stark nude.

A smirk crept across his lips as he watched me jump into the pool, submerging my head under the water.

I surfaced and sent a weak splash his way. “Get your pale ass in here!”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Ian chuckled and shook his head. “I think I’m gonna look around a bit. Meet back at the unit?”

“You can look around later,” I suggested. “Water's fuckin' perfect, man.”

Antsy, he glanced around again. “I’m curious. This place is so nice.”

The warm water was already working its magic, easing the tension knotted in my muscles. “Your loss.”

Ian smirked mischievously as he watched my naked form in the water. “Raincheck?”

Splashing at him once more, I replied playfully with a sure grin. “You know it, bitch.”

As Ian headed off to explore, I leaned back and let my body float. Taking in a satisfied breath, I squinted up at the cloudless blue sky. So much had been going on lately that the stillness of the water, the sound of it lapping against the tiled pool walls offered a comfort I hadn’t expected. I wanted to feel refreshed, but this was downright relaxing.

Too bad I couldn’t get Gallagher in here, I thought as I floated.

It was probably due to my dad passing that I hadn’t felt quite right lately. I was coming out of it, I was sure of that, but I was struggling.

I wondered if I had always been this way, so insecure and defensive. I guess Terry‘s death had wounded me, spinning me out into a vulnerable position. I tried to ignore these doubts which were intensifying for seemingly no reason. I also tried to hide it, but Ian knew me better than anyone. He had to have seen how my confidence was depleted, that any shown was an act. Yet he seemed distant. Seemed. I couldn’t say if it was true or just in my head. Maybe he didn’t know how to talk to me while he thought I was still in mourning. Maybe I had forgotten how to talk to him, knowing there were aspects of my grief he could never understand. Either way, I needed to fix it and move the fuck on with our lives together.

A lack of confidence had seeded itself years ago when it came to body image. Ian got better looking with time, while I had let my workout routine fade out completely. A few months earlier, I had decided to reclaim that lost confidence and started working out at the dinky gym Kev had opened up. For possibly the first time, I liked how I looked. That was why I really wanted to come swimming, so my husband could get a good look at the work I’ve put it. I’d been fishing for compliments for a couple weeks, but I must have not worked hard enough because he didn’t seem to notice.

Ian said it often and I had to agree with him. I was too sensitive.

After swimming and floating a bit, I bucked up, swam to the ladder, and climbed out of the pleasantness of the pool. I grabbed a towel I had snatched from the change room we had quickly strolled through earlier and dried off enough to slip my boxers and jeans back on. I draped the towel around my neck and carried my shirt inside to find Ian so we could get out of here and grab something to eat. Shirtless and still a bit wet, I found my way to the elevators and pressed the right button. I hadn’t paid attention to the actual floor number, only the position of the illuminated button on the keypad. It didn’t matter if I could remember. We weren’t coming back.

While I rode the elevator up, I was flanked by mirrors as I faced the door. Turning to one, I felt a spark of pride. You could see a difference. Not to get cocky, but I was looking extremely fuckable. Running my fingers through my wet hair, slicking it back, I mentally dared Gallagher to not jump me right there in the rental.

Confidence now high, I stepped out of the elevator when the doors opened and let myself into the apartment up for grabs.

I walked into the unit with high spirits. “Yo, that pool is sick!”

I found Ian in the kitchen playing with light switches. “Garbage disposal,” he declared in awe as he switched it on to demonstrate. “Never have to put your hand down the drain again!”

A smile crept across my lips at how excited he was.

He hurried over and flipped a switch above a mantle in the living room, sparking a warm glow from the beneath the mantle. “Fireplace.”

“Ooh!” I chuckled.

“Right?”

I started putting my shirt back on. If he wasn’t gonna bother enjoying the show, there was no need for me to be shirtless. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Wait. One more thing,” Ian said, urging me to follow him. “You gotta feel this bed.”

Maybe there was hope for a fuck after all. “All right,” I humored him.

“All right,” he echoed, leading me to the bedroom. “Just check out this bed, baby.”

When we entered the furnished bedroom, Ian dove onto the bed to lie comfortably on his back.

I sat next to him, gradually leaning back into the cloud that was the mattress.

Ian exhaled with utter relaxation. “It’s like sleeping on a cloud.”

“Oh. Yeah,” I settled and suddenly didn’t want to get up. “Yeah, that’s nice.”

We both sighed, relief seeping up from the bed.

We weren’t quiet long, but Ian’s voice cut through the silence like a blade. “I think we should do this.”

My one-track mind was hopeful as we turned our heads to one another and I reached for his thigh. “Do what?”

With optimism, he smiled at me and said, “rent this place.”

I recoiled, sitting up. “Wait—what?”

“Well, it’s nice, it’s cheap, you love the pool, and the lady at the leasing office said if we sign in the next 30 minutes, we get the first month rent-free,” Ian explained.

Had he forgotten where we were? “It’s on the fuckin' West Side.”

“It’s only 15 minutes away,” he countered. “Just a few miles.”

“No,” I asserted. “We don’t know the escape routes, th—the bail bondsmen around here--"

“So we stop doing shady shit and grow some tomatoes,” he told me as though it were that simple. “Can we just talk to the lady? Take a look at the lease?”

Defenses shooting up, I almost whined, “I don’t wanna look at the fuckin' lease. I’m not movin' here.” I stood from the bed, more unsure of myself than before. “Was this your plan the whole time?”

“No, of course not. But the place is nice,” he replied in his calmest tone of voice. “Can you just think about It?”

“All I wanted was to go for a swim,” I reminded him before walking out of the bedroom.

My husband called after me, but I was done with this topic of discussion. No fucking way was I moving to the West Side. No fucking way.