"You told me you were texting Julie. She's not even in your inbox." His jaw pushes forward as his nostrils flare. I can see his chest puffed out.
Sucking in my lips, I gulp and twiddle my fingers in front of my stomach.
I never meant for him to find out. The only reason I kept it from him was because I knew he would get this way. He's getting the wrong idea about this. I'm not keeping this a secret from him because I'm into Blake, I kept it from him because he's too jealous. Of course he would assume the worst. Does he not trust me?
Actually, he has a good reason not to trust me now. Keeping this hidden from him was wrong. It looks too suspicious, like as if I was flirting with him, which I obviously wasn't. I can see how he's even more mad about this. I've betrayed his trust. It's more than just texting Blake, it's about being disloyal to him, which is big in this relationship. I'm not even sure what to say to him. How do I defend this situtation correctly?
"Well," Dean snaps after waiting for a response. "aren't you going to say something? Not even explain yourself?"
I shake my head while directing myself to my seat. As I sit, I exhale as I mentally prepare my sudden speech. I never was expecting him to find out, so how am I suppose to know exactly what to say? I've not had time to scramble up words to defend my case.
"It's not what you're thinking." I cautiously begin while gazing deeply in his eyes so that he's aware of my honesty. I continue before he can cut in, though he seems impressively speechless. "Blake just checked in with me and we built a conversation from there. There's nothing but a friendship between us."
I feel like the first thing that should be mentioned is the fact that I have no interest in Blake at all. It would be awful for him to believe that I do. He has to know that I don't, before I explain anything.
"Then why did you lie to me?" He growls softly so that only I can hear. His voice is rough and furious.
I can feel the tension already. It's almost as if he's a ticking-time bomb, waiting to explode. I can't predict when he will lose it, which is the most frightening part of all of this. The fact that he's keeping his voice low is a start; that's exactly how I acknowledge his boiling point of wrath. I hate seeing this side of him. When he's angry with me, all I can do is brace myself, especially when he shouts.
I swallow hard. "Because I knew you would get like this." My voice replies softly, trailing off quietly. It's really difficult to know exactly what to say without causing him to get more infuriated. Sometimes, the simpliest words will strike him as an insult. Sometimes he assumes I'm giving him bullshit.
"Of course I'm gonna get like this! You're talking to a guy while hiding it. Am I suppose to jump for joy?" His eyebrows push together.
I'm startled from his rising tone. "It's not like that." My voice is low, signalling for him to calm down. "I just didn't want you to think I was into him, which I'm not." I stare down at my fingers pinching my black skirt to avoid his furious expression.
"I think I would've been less mad if you were just honest with me in the first place. Now, I can't help but think that you're not telling me something." He snaps. "Do you like him? Would you rather be with him?"
"Dean," I sigh. "I want to be with you. I told you that I have no interest in him." My eyes glance up to meet his. I then stare down back at my lap fearfully.
This is exactly what I was afraid of. He's already assuming that I like Blake more than a friend. This is why I didn't want to tell him. Instead, I dug myself a deeper hole.
"Then why didn't you say it back?" He growls roughly.
"Say what?" I watch my fingers play with the piece of fabric in my hands.
"Say 'I love you.' You didn't say it back." He snarls breathlessy, a hint of misery exposing itself in his tone.
My head swiftly swings up so that I look at him.
He assumes that I don't mutually feel his affection with him. I wanted to tell him, but the words wouldn't slip. Why is it that I find it so difficult to say those three damn words?
"Dean," I whisper while searching the room for an answer. My mind draws a blank. Not even I know why I hadn't said it back.
"You don't love me?" His tone is softer and more vurnable now, his delicate eyes pouting and threatening tears.
"No, Dean, of course I do." I shake my head down at my lap, trying hard not to cry. "I do, I just. . ." Words fail me. I can't say it. Why can't I say it?
He inhales while swallowing hard. He then nods his head slowly as if to understand an unspoken statement.
"I'm afraid." I speak up while turning my gaze towards him.
He tilts his head quizzically.
"I'm afraid of you." I finally admit, feeling the heavy weights lifting from my shoulders. Somehow, I find it easier to breathe.
Maybe all along this was the reason why I couldn't tell him how I really felt. He opened up to me while I never did.
His expression softens vurnably as if he'll collapse into a dozen shards of glass. It's obvious I struck him hard. He's hurt, like I'm the bully and he's the weak child.
I quickly explain myself, "Sometimes you just get angry over problems that can easily be fixed. I hesitated on telling you about Blake because I was afraid you would explode. You scare me when you get mad, that's why I went out of the way to avoid that." My gaze lowers to my lap. "I've not had the greatest experience with anger." My chest aches as my eyes dry out. I shut them to prevent myself from crying.
"Rosie," He watches me cautiously. "I. . ." He turns his head away, then back at me again. "I didn't know that's how you felt. You should've told me." His tone his calm and considerate. It's soothing and comforting for me to hear, causing it for me to open up easier to him. "What experience do you mean?"
I suck in my lips and inhale deeply. "It's-" I gulp. "It was just someone in the past." My head shakes down at my lap.
"You don't have to tell me." He composedly adds.
"No, it's okay." I look up at him. "You should know." My head nods before I begin. "I was sixteen when I dated someone. He was my first boyfriend, actually, my only one before you."
I never counted Chad as a past boyfriend because he was too unbearable to keep in mind. I tried my best to forget him and pretend it never happened. He's part of the reason I never dated anyone after him for so many years. It's hard for me to explain the situation now.
"He was very short-tempered." I continue carefully. "Sometimes he would get angry at little things, things I wasn't even sure why he was mad. He. . .He sometimes used me as a punching bag." I swallow the knot in my dry throat.
"Rosie," He painfully pronounces my name. "you don't have to continue." He seems hurt by my story already, like he's ready to cry. I've never seen him like this.
"We were together for a year when I finally gained the courage to break it off with him. He, uh-" I softly chuckle at my lap. "He got so mad that he cut me when I walked away." I turn my back towards him while pushing my sleeve down to reveal a large scar carved into the back of my shoulder. After I face him, he shakes his head painfully.
"I'm sorry." His voice cracks as he hands me my phone. "I've always wondered about that scar, but I wasn't sure to ask." He inhales slowly. "Rosie, I would never hurt you."
I nod my head quickly in agreement while grabbing my giraffe-printed phone. "I know that. You've been so amazing. I've been so grateful to have you and to be with you." I smile at him while holding his hands.
He grins weakly. "Why do you let me spank you and do all those things we do in the bedroom?" His eyes soften. "You knew that you could've stopped me at any time. Why didn't you?"
I grin. "Because I never wanted you to stop. Being consensually spanked is way different than being intentionally and furiously abused." I assure while dipping my chin.
He exhales through his nose with a warm simper. "I don't ever want to see you hurt by anyone. Especially me."
"I know." I smile at my lap and softly inform, "I would hug you, but we're not exactly alone." My eyes meet his through my lashes.
His smile grows, it's infectious.
* * *
To my surprise, gaining sleep on the long two flights was quite simple. Though it is only six in the morning on a Monday, I'm wide awake.
I decided to leave my luggage in Dean's car and retrieve it tomorrow. To be honest, even though I'm awake, I don't feel like carrying a large ass suitcase up a dozen flights of stairs since the elevator is under construction.
Dean insisted on walking me to my dorm room so he knew that I was safe. I gave up on fighting with him about it. At this point, who's going to notice us? Everyone is still asleep or studying in the library. No one is going to see-
"Blake?" I stop in front of him with Dean beside me in the hallway outside my dorm room.
He tilts his head at me with a puzzled look. "Rosie?" His eyes then draw to Dean. "Professor Collins?"
My mouth opens. "Uh, Blake, what are you doing here?" I force a smile.
While keeping his eyes on Dean, he replies slowly, "I was just leaving my dorm to go to English." He then quickly adds, "I'm sorry, what are you two doing here?"
I glance at Dean for help. He watches Blake comfortably and responds, "I was walking Rosie to her room." His stare becomes cold, the tension in the air thickening.
My eyes switch to Blake to see his response. He folds his arms while pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek with his lips parted. "Is that so?"
Actually, yes. Dean told the truth. He really was just walking me to my room.
Dean's eyes narrow. "Yes. You know, in case any students decide to make a move on her, I can stop them." He widens his stance to shoulder width and adds, "And I can do that because I'm by her side. . .not halfway across the building."
I bite my bottom lip. This is going to get ugly. It's not a good idea to have these two stand in front of each other. Not like this.
Blake huffs. "You're still not over that?" His eyes narrow.
"Because I care." Dean snaps quickly. "If you were a true friend, you would too."
Blake's eyebrows furrow. "I do care. Why should you? You're just her math professor." He snarls.
Dean's jaw clenched.
If I don't do something now, Dean is going to lose his job.
Just as he stomps forward, I jump in front of him with my hands on his firm chest. "Dean." I growl while gazing into his eyes. "Let it go."
He lowers his glare to mine momentarily. With an exhale, his muscles loosen as he slowly steps back. I step beside him.
Blake narrows his eyes suspiciously at me. "Dean?"
I freeze as my eyes widen. "Uh, he-uh-" I turn towards Dean for help.
"That's my first name." He states sternly.
Dean. You're too honest.
Blake licks his lips while nodding his head. "Alright." He smiles at the ground. "You two have fun." His lips press into a hard line at us before he bumps into our shoulders down the hall.
Once he turns the corner, Dean and I smile at each other. We begin to laugh.
"Yeach, Rosie. Have fun." His eye brows jump as he smiles, flashing his white teeth at me.
I shake my head. "Don't be mean." I laugh as I gently slap his shoulder.
His eyes lower to mine as his smile becomes seductive. He pushes his body into mine against my room door.
My mouth opens into a smile as I check our surroundings. "Dean." My lip meets my teeth.
"Let's have fun, Rosie." He whispers against my neck.
I tilt my chin up while laughing, my hand smacking the wall behind me to find my handle. We better get inside before we're caught. Thank goodness Julie went to visit her parents for Thanksgiving. My other hand pulls out my keys from my pocket.
"Don't pretend that I didn't win our little bet." He mumbles against my lips.
I kiss him as my hand inserts the key into the slot.
"I was hoping you forgot." I whisper against his lips and smile. My fingers wrap around the handle now.
"Really, miss White?" He mutters against my cheek and kisses my lips again. "I think you're lying."
"You caught me." I whisper while opening the door behind me and push my body through.
When I walk through the doorway, I turn Dean so that my back faces the door again. I then freeze with my eyes widen.
"Mom?" I shriek.