Ugh. I’m not sure what Storm has done to me, but he’s got himself so embedded into me right now. I hate it. My life was normal before he came into it. I was happy and content, going through my day-to-day routine. I thought Michael and I were happy. I didn’t know I was missing out on so much feeling. I don’t even know how else to describe it. How can everything I feel and want change in just a week?
I debate calling Amy so she can talk me down, but my throat is hurting so much I don’t even think I can handle talking that much right now. I wish I could call my mom. I feel like I’m having a meltdown from the past week. Being trapped in the truck, not eating or drinking enough, worrying about my job, getting sick, Michael being gone, Storm confusing the hell out of me... It’s all just too much. My life is usually so incredibly boring. Nothing new or exciting ever happens. Now I have a rock star telling me he wants to fuck me silly. I don’t even know what that means.
I stare at my cell phone thinking maybe I should send Storm a text and say I’m sorry. I’m not even sure what I’m apologizing for, though. No. I’m not going to give in to his crazy. It’s better he is gone. I have never been one of those girls who psycho-calls and texts men, and I’m not about to start now.
The front door opening and closing causes me to jump. “You should really lock your door.”
I try to suppress the smile that immediately takes over my face because I don’t want him to see I’m glad he came back. “What’s the point? You’ll just come in anyway.”
He grins at me and hands me a latte. “I got you your favorite coffee. I thought maybe it would calm your shit down.”
Every part of me wants to squee over the man who brought my cat a toy and me a latte. I can’t wrap my head around him at all. How can he be so thoughtful, but not be into relationships? Does he treat his fuckbuddies like this? I have to know.
I sip the latte and thank him while he settles in the chair across the room.
“Storm, can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Do you treat the women you’re in those non-relationships with like this?”
“Like this how?”
“You know... lattes, breakfast smoothies, cat toys... that sort of thing?”
“No. I haven’t done shit like this in a long time.” A sadness veils his eyes, and I wonder if he is thinking of his wife. I wish I had never read that article on the Internet.
“I do appreciate it, Storm. I’m really just not used to it.” I take another sip of the coffee. My throat is hurting so bad and now one of my ears is congested.
“I know.” He crosses the room and sits on the edge of the couch against my legs again. “Let me ask you something now.” He takes the cup from my hand and puts it on the coffee table.
“Okay...”
“Can you give me twenty seconds of you not thinking, not analyzing, not worrying, not pushing me away? Will you do that for me?”
“I’ll try.”