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I scoot to the opposite end of the tub so he can no longer touch me. I need all my wits right now. The ten inches dick joke. And now this. My throat thickens, and a chilly sensation spills into my stomach. "You read my journal?" I ask, but I mean it as a statement. I’m having a hard time understanding everything.
His face sobers, and that's all the answer I need. I cross my legs and stare at him.
Chills run through me like the water is suddenly icy cold. He's read my diary. For how long? Why? And why didn't he tell me about it?
"Hazel…"
"When?"
The pulse in his neck jumps. "Weeks ago… before we hooked up."
I reach for the towel rack before he can grab a fluffy towel and wrap it around me. Leaving the tub, I grab another towel for my hair. "Why didn't you tell me? You had a long ass time to tell me." I towel dry my hair with harsh movements, trying to think straight. My movements still feel too slow, but I can't fault intense lovemaking this time.
It's deception.
He had access to a part of me I didn’t share with anyone, and he’s hidden it from me. For weeks. How long would it be until he told me the truth, if ever? And why doesn't he see it as a big deal? How can I trust him?
I return to the bedroom and sit on the edge of the bed.
Archer stands in front of me. He’s still wearing a towel wrapped around his hips, but this time, I make a point not to focus on his hot body. "I didn't know how to bring it up. I didn't want to break your trust."
"Break my trust by admitting you broke my trust?"
"Well, if we're being sticklers here, you wrote shit about me while you were on the clock."
Is that what this is about? Getting back at me? My heart rate slows down, my palms clammy. A nauseating sensation swirls inside me. "Wow. How petty of you."
He shakes his head, annoyed. "I'm sorry, but Hazel, what I said isn't a big deal."
I suck in a breath. Am I exaggerating? I don’t know. I need five minutes away from him to think straight. But first, questions. "So tell me something… Why did you kiss me? Did you see me as a woman before you read my diary?"
"Of course not."
Of course not. Why would he? I'm not his type. If anything, I'm a fantasy.
"Look at it this way—without reading it, we would have never gotten together," he says.
"Exactly." A knot forms in my throat, my pulse skittering. "We shouldn't have gotten together. We wouldn’t have if it weren’t for the journal." I bend and scoop up my clothing from the floor, dressing clumsily.
"Hazel, are you nuts?" he asks, following me around.
I wave him off, gesturing at the space between us. "I need some time to think."
"Listen, the journal isn't a big deal."
It shouldn't be, but why can't he hear his own words? He wouldn't have been interested in me without it. I can't change how we met, how we got started… and I don't want to have that niggle of insecurity in the back of my head. I already have enough insecurities as it is.
I want to believe him; I truly do. But how can I, when now it seems our time together is merely the fulfillment of a fantasy?
He lifts his hands in surrender, following me to the living room. "Hazel, don't leave. What kind of relationship do we have if you give up at the first obstacle?"
"What kind of relationship do we have if I bring it up to you and your best answer is that me being hurt isn't a big deal?"
25
Archer
Her words pierce through my soul.
