enthralling, feeling oddly forbidden.
“ It means I wish I was your first priority.”
“ You are,” I say, finally looking back up at him instead of staring around with my curiosity feelers out.
I flinch automatically when his hand comes up suddenly to move the hair off my face. The expression when he pauses, glaring through me because of my instinctive reaction, solidifies my insides with fear.
“Don't look at me like that,” he says, in a voice deepened with emotion.
“ Like what?”
I'm definitely jumpy. I can't help it.
“What did you think? That I was going to hit you?”
“ No.”
“ Yes, you did.” Narrowing his eyelids, he looks at me with challenge. “Is that what you expect from me? Do you expect me to hurt you like that?
“ No! Fuck it, Sveta, I'm just tense. I didn't do it deliberately.”
“ You would put me in that camp? Do you want me to sink to that level with you? Shall we have this out now or later? I vote for now.”
His tone is so cold it terrifies me, and I step away, nervously looking for an escape. I've never been here before, and we're miles from anywhere. I do not need this shit in my life.
“Oh I see it, Zena. I can read you without GPS. You don't need to wear a mood ring around me... because... and I will keep on repeating this until you finally grasp it... I. AM. NEURI. I know what you're thinking girl.”
“ Yeah? Well if you know what I'm thinking you'd know you're fucking upsetting me, so just stop it!”
He flicks his arm up so fast I duck, cringing, shielding my face out of instinct.
“I knew it! You honestly think I'd hit you?”
“ No!” My voice is coming out all shaky and that old feeling of helpless dread is rising in me.
He keeps advancing, and every footstep knots my insides so tight I'm immediately nauseous.
“Back off Sveta.”
“ Or what?” he reaches out and punts his fingers into my upper chest, shoving the shoulder back with what seems like zero effort.
“ Stop it!” I yell, tearful, smacking his arm away.
“ Fight me. Go on, let it out.” He pushes me again, harder .
I bump his arm off me, but he's quicker, pushing at me in the other shoulder, alternating again and again, and I'm forced to step back in retreat, returning the hitting, until I'm up against the wall and the tears are free-falling.
“Stop IT!” I shout up, staring through eyes blurring with simmering tears.
How did this happen? One second we're embarking on a new phase in our relationship and the next we're fighting.
His eyes are dark, misting pollen sparks off them, exposing his ire. And that makes me angry.
Why are you picking on me?
Using all of my strength I shove hard into his chest, using the wall to boost myself forward to really push. “Back off!”
“ Why are you angry, Zena? Why are you crying Zena?”
As he speaks he keeps prodding fingers into my chest, and it's beginning to really hurt.
“I'm crying because I hate this. And you're hurting me.”
“ Liar,” shove.
I shove back, both hands to his chest, leaning in, head down, ramming into him. “I'm not lying!”
“Fight me Zena.”
We're raining blows, but I'm ineffectual. It's like punching at a steam engine.
I can't take it, crammed up against the wall again with him looming over me, ready to prod me again. Cracking, I slip down the wall, sobbing something fierce.
He follows me down, catching his weight on either side of my head so he can leer his face into mine, coiling muscles and immobility at me, “I want you to lay into me. Fight me.”
“I don't want to fight! You're supposed to be my safe place,” I stutter, blubbering, breaking down, ashamed at how he's reduced me to tears.
“ Pull my hair, claw into me, come on Zena, fight me.”
“ No!”
“ Coward.”
“ I'm not. Just leave me alone!”
He plants his ass down in front of me, splaying his legs out either side of mine, forcefully yanking me away from the wall to curl up against him on the cold pale tiles.
Arms
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