The Monster In Us

21- tO impress yoU

"Hang on a second," I say quickly, tugging him to a stop with my hand that's in his.

"What's up?" He stops but he's confused as to why we're stopping.

"I'm not predictable," I tell him. "Oatmeal is predictable and I am not oatmeal."

"Well, I didn't-" I unzip my black and white bomber jacket. I slip it off of my arms, leaving me in just a purple tank top in the chilly Vegas night, and I hand it to him.

"Hold this," I interrupt him.

"Alright. What are you doing?" He is still confused but also laughing a little bit, amused at my randomness.

I give him a little smirk of my own. "I'm being unpredictable. And also paying for dinner."

I then stand onto the concrete bench right beside us to get everybody's attention and I start playing music on my phone. It's not very loud against all of the other sounds of the strip but it's enough for everybody in a ten-foot radius to hear it.

"Excuse me!" I shout into the crowd. A few people turn to look at me, most of them just keep walking. "Fifty bucks and I'll take off my shirt."

I hear Dante laughing beside me and out of the few people that had stopped to look at me, two of them remain after my announcement, both men, and they start fishing through their wallets. I don't know why they don't just go across the street to the two girls that are already practically in their underwear but I think that there's something about an average-looking girl in jeans and a tank top, not staged, that gets some guys' rocks off.

"Thank you," I thank one of the men as he hands me a five-dollar bill. "Forty-five bucks and I'll take off my shirt!"

"This is ridiculous," Dante says from beside me. Another man hands me a ten and I thank him as well. "You don't have to prove to me that you're not oatmeal."

"Too late now," I say with a small smile on my face, proud of myself for actually surprising him. I think that I surprised him when he took me to that club and I had decided to wear the black dress instead of the frilly, modest sequin dress that the lady at the boutique had picked out based on Dante's requests. I like surprising him.

The drunk men walking down the strip are all pretty willing to cough up some cash pretty quickly and it doesn't take very long until I've made it to fifty bucks. By then, I've grown a slight crowd because everybody who had given me money hadn't left so that they could get their money's worth.

The men, also drunk, are shouting perverted things at me, which I expected and they don't bother me. I do a little dance to the music on my phone and then I make eye contact with Dante, who is still standing beside me, laughing. He's very amused that I would go to such lengths to prove to him that I'm not predictable.

I then swiftly take off my shirt as promised, leaving me in just my red lacy bra and the drunk men, very few women, start cheering and again, I do a little dance for them and then turn to look at Dante.

I do a little bow for him and he rolls his eyes in a laughing manner and then sarcastically applauds me with the rest of the crowd.

"How much for the bra?" Somebody asks from the crowd.

"A week in Tahiti," I respond sarcastically. I'm about to jump off of the bench and put my shirt back on when Dante steps closer to me and reaches up to grasp the back of my neck just hard enough to pull me down to him. Probably because of all of the men saying perverted stuff, he wanted to make it clear that he was the only one who got to kiss me. He kisses me pretty deeply but it's a short-ish kiss and then I put my shirt back on and the small crowd disperses.

"Point taken," Dante tells me, handing me my jacket and I slip it on over my tank top.

I hold up the fifty bucks that I just made, "And dinner is on me so look at that."

"Predictable isn't a bad thing," He says. We continue walking down the strip toward the restaurant that we're going to. "Oatmeal isn't predictable, it's boring. I didn't say that you're predictable as in you're boring because you're not. Clearly, you're not boring. I just meant predictable as in reliable, and I don't have a lot of that, so it's really cool to know that you'll just be there, and that you'll be honest. You're reliable. And also exciting and fun."

When he says that I'm reliable, that I'll always be here for him, my throat closes up because I know that that's not the case. "You could have said that before I took my shirt off in front of a bunch of strangers," I tell him with a small, forced laugh because he has unknowingly just thrown me for a heavy guilt trip. No, Dante, I am not reliable. I will never be reliable for you. One day, you will wake up and I will be gone. Or you'll wake up and find out who I really am and you'll put a bullet through my skull.

"I didn't know that you would do something so... unpredictable, if you will," Dante defends. "But it was entertaining."

"Reliable and entertaining? Alright. I'll take that," I decide.

I'm kind of quiet for the rest of the night, trying my best to put a happy face on for Dante but it's still eating at the back of my mind and I keep hearing him in my head, calling me reliable. That he trusts that I'll always be there.

I didn't think that I had that kind of importance to him. I didn't think that me always being here, always answering my phone when he calls or showing up when he needs me, I didn't think that it meant something to him or caused him to label me as reliable.

After I'm gone, his trust issues are going to absolutely skyrocket. I don't like the fact of knowing that when I leave, I'm most likely going to really hurt Dante. I actually really hate knowing that but I'm too selfish to let this go, to break up with him now before things go even further. I will never feel this way with anybody else and I want to get the most out of the time that we have together. I'm so sorry that it will hurt him in the future but as we continue with this thing that we have; I'm starting to realize that there's a very real possibility that it's going to hurt me too.

"You seem tired," Dante observes as he's dropping me off at my apartment building. He's not walking in with me because it's late now, so we're saying our goodbyes in his car tonight.

"Yeah, tonight was amazing," I assure him. "It's just been a long day."

"I'll still see you tomorrow at work, right?" He wonders.

Of course you will. I'm reliable. "Of course," I confirm.

He leans over and kisses my lips. A very shirt goodbye kiss. "Alright. Goodnight, Elisa."

"Yeah, goodnight," I mumble quickly and then I get out of his car and speed walk into the building. Maybe he could tell that something is wrong with me but I'm hoping that he just blames it all on my fatigue because I don't know what I'd say if he asks about my sour mood tomorrow. I definitely won't be telling him that it's because he told me that he thinks that he can rely on me when I know for a 100% fact that he shouldn't.