What the hell? Where did that come from?

“Being closed out.” He has a hint of humor in his eye, but I know he’s being serious, sardonic, and not in a friendly way. I frown at him and go back to my sight-seeing, confused at his manner. Trying hard not to rise to it and inwardly churning up with anxiety.

“What does it take, Emma?” That edgy tone in his voice betrays a bad mood looming up.

Why today?

I curse inwardly. Jake’s negatives moods are the worst thing ever; maybe he’s hungover and obviously still tired. He shifts gear as we round a rather craggy coastal road; his focus on the road, his brows furrowed, and a tightness to his jaw that screams of tension.

“Jake, please … What are you talking about?” I squirm in my seat and adjust my clothes to distract the awkwardness in my pose.

How have I closed him out? He’s seen more of me, knows more of me, than anyone on the planet, does he not see that?

“You’re not even going to mention last night? Is that another conversation over?” he snaps this time and I bristle.

“You didn’t mention it either.” I spit, a little too aggressively. Riled by the up by this attack; it’s like he’s getting his period.

“I was waiting to see if you would.” Eyes cool green and face tense, he’s in difficult and stubborn mode.

Great!

“Why?” I snap, but he just shrugs again.

Oh my god.

want to fight, I want to go back to playful, fun Jake. This is

make

sarcasm thick in his tone. His

that supposed to mean?” I

back in and shut the door. No conversation. No acknowledgment of it, just wham. Over!”

letting myself go? That’s being closed off?”

Why is it always about sex

any doubt about it last night … It’s not the issue … It’s the afterwards, Emma.” His voice is laced with venom, anger seething

drunk … being stupid, anyone can make

an asshole

thrust forward as he slams on the brakes and we screech

What the hell?

the road, out of the non-existent traffic. He unbuckles and gets out of the car and stalks off toward

I do? What the actual hell?

not like this, not with this kind of rage. I feel sick, unbearably emotional and I reel it back

making me jumpy and nervy. He’s not looking at me and he doesn’t try to

he reacting

head sometimes as I watch him warily, every

wheel, but he doesn’t start the car. “It’s about this eternal need in you to stay in full control … Never letting anyone in, never letting yourself enjoy anything, and letting your guard down. Always

my life, he has no idea. He’s the closest person

his voice is still strained, that edge to his tone. I sit stiffly, focused on his hands gripping and un-gripping the

his eyes at me, and I spin away, hating that he’s even seen

don’t need anyone … But

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