I Am Living With an Idiot

Forty Four || All Is Almost Forgotten

I hear a ding, telling me to step inside the elevator. One more step to the death of my mental sanity.

I know that I am at my floor because the floor underneath stops moving. The door opens after I heard that same chime that I heard a minute ago. I step out onto the gray carpet.

I reach into my purse and pull out my keys, they jingle as I take them out. I hold them together, making sure I cause no noise.

I take a deep breath and unlock the door.

I push the door open quietly, stepping inside. I reach behind me and lock the door.

It is absolutely silent, besides one thing; something snapping against the counter multiple times per second.

I am certain that James is chopping something in the kitchen. The last I want to do is startle him and he chop off his fingers. I'm angry with him, but that doesn't mean I want him to hurt himself. I still love him.

I walk into the kitchen, making my footsteps audible for him. Y'know, he might think that I am an intruder and stab me. Let's hope not.

I stand beside him, watching him. The green onion that he is cutting up has perfectly symmetric to each piece. His parents have clearly taught him well.

The whole time I stand there he doesn't look up from what he is doing for even one minute.

"Where have you been?" he demanded with no emotion in his voice while continuing to chop the vegetables in front of him.

"At my parents house," I confess to him, not moving a muscle.

"Who drove you?" he pushes further.

"Grayson."

He is silent for a moment after that. Setting down the knife away from us, he turns and looks at me.

"I've told you that I am sorry once before. If I say it again, will you leave again like you did?" he asks, looking at me intensely. His eyes are still so beautiful, even when he is this serious.

I shrug, "Why don't you try it?" I question him.

He bites the inside of his cheek. "I'm sorry Vena, for thinking that you were being dishonest," he apologizes.

I nod, "Okay, that's a good place to start," I tell him, nonchalantly.

He raises an eyebrow at me, "What? No yelling?" he questions, clearly surprised my calmness.

"Nope. Not this time, James," I tell him.

He gives me a half smile, "Who talked to you about all this?" He asks, curiously.

"My mother" I reply, looking at him. I still have to call her sometime today.

He chuckles, "She really is a miracle worker," he glances at my lips.

I shrug, "I suppose" I ignore his eyes.

He suddenly grabs my hips and pulls me against him.

I look up at him and raise an eyebrow at him. "What are you doing? We still haven't talked and I'm not going to just let this slide," I question his actions.

He looks at me, whispering, "I haven't been with you for a week, I missed you a shit ton. We can talk later," he presses his lips gently on the side of my neck.

"That was not my doing and I don't want to wait," I tell him, trying to hold back from his movements.

He pulls away, shaking his head, "You're right, it is mine. That doesn't mean that I didn't miss you and yes you do," he reaches up, running his hand through my hair.