might explode.
“I’d stupidly asked where you were when everyone was at the Goat for a drink. I had to cover my tracks somehow,” I offer up lamely, knowing it won’t assuage her.
“So, because you were a dumbass, you had to go and trash my mothering skills in front of my closest friends? Nice, Forrest. You’re a moron. I don’t even know why I’m here. I don’t want to see you again. Or have you anywhere near my children.”
She storms past me, toward, the door, and I catch her elbow.
“Penelope, come on. Don’t overreact. It wasn’t personal.”
“Nothing is to you, Forrest,” she fires back.
Now she’s pissing me off. She was the one who wanted to make an agreement where we only fucked and had no emotions or even friendly connection past that.
“Excuse me, but aren’t you the one using me for my cock and nothing else? You call me up, random hours of the day, and expect me to be hard as a steel pipe so you can get your rocks off. I think it’s pretty hypocritical of you to come knocking down my door about hurt feelings. That’s what this explicitly wasn’t supposed to be about. You can’t stand me, and I can’t tolerate you any better. But we do some great horizontal work and don’t have to go through all the bullshit of a relationship. Or are you here telling me that you really do care about me and my opinion of you?”
What I don’t say is that with just a couple of stories, she could tell my family just how well I’ve treated her. That I’ve given her her space, agreed to her terms, gone to get medicine for the children I apparently talked shit about. That the only reason I have to bad-mouth her to my family is that we have to throw them off the scent that anything is happening here.
I’m just a sex object for her, which stings more than I know it should. And now, I’ve backed her into a corner. If she admits that she cares, then we can talk about it.
Because as infuriating as the woman is … the past month has been pretty damn great. She might grate on my nerves, but she’s funny. Obviously, she’s beautiful and a terrific lay, but there is more below the surface than I ever realized when it comes to Penelope. I’ve come to care for her, in a way only I can. I might not hold her hand or take her out to dinner but having her sleep in my bed … that was a long way for me to go. She might not know it, but I’ve rarely done that with a woman.
Penelope rolls her eyes in my direction. “Don’t be so full of yourself. All I care about is that you were shit talking my parenting skills. You always do think way too highly of yourself, Forrest … but don’t for a second believe that I’m here to profess some undying love. Or to sob over my upset at your opinion of me. I’m just a strong-ass woman who isn’t going to let a little boy trash her name all over the town she lives in. So fuck you, and good night.”
With that, she takes off, slamming the door behind her.
I feel like I’ve been whipped through a hurricane and am just trying to breathe my way through the confusion and destruction. Although I knew the comments would come back to burn me, I truly thought that Penelope would understand my side of things when I confessed to protecting our beneficial relationship.
But I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t. Because if I hadn’t said anything, and just let my family stare at me for asking where she was, my hookup buddy would have flipped out about potentially exposing that we’ve been sleeping together. But now that I’ve thrown them off the scent with my dickish behavior, she’s pissed and feels like I personally attacked her mothering skills.
This is why I don’t get involved with women, or people in general. They’re all too emotional and don’t understand my brand of personality.
What’s worse, is that in my own way, I was only trying to protect her.
Even more is that I care about her, against all odds. And she just proved that she most certainly doesn’t give a shit about me.
16
Penelope
“Mom, I can’t carry this anymore,” Travis whines, dropping his gym bag in the dirt as I cringe.
“Come on, buddy, help me out