Page 43 of About the Green

"Nothing to talk about," she says. The words dry and devoid of any of her usual playfulness. I know it’s not from the early hour and it couldn’t be from the scrapes on her side. She was still mouthing off yesterday before—

"Nothin’?”

"No." She checks her phone for the thirtieth time, and I can see there's notifications and such, but it looks like it's all from social media, not any text messages or calls. I didn't hear her phone ring once, even though I was tired. I'm always a light sleeper.

Is no one checking on her?

“Want me to get you somethin’ to eat before you go home?"

"No," she says, and that seems to be the only answer that I'm going to get from her.

I switch things up, choosing instead, "If you weren't so afraid of bein’ with me, would you be gettin’ breakfast right now?"

She blinks a few times and then turns to face me. I catch her looking at me for several seconds before looking away. "I don't know," she says.

What the fuck?

I fully expected her smart ass retort, but I think she’s being honest. Everything about the time in the rental is different. Each time she’s gotten in my car, it’s something different. I’d been somewhat prepared for the unexpected because Nina has always kept me on my toes, but I don’t like the dull look in her eyes.

What happened between now and then?

"Did I hurt you?" I ask.

Her lips press tightly together—no response.

"So, what? All talk and no action?” I try, still hoping that she’ll snap out of it. If she was well enough to leave bed then she should be well enough to have a conversation as usual.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Means what I said. You call me, tease me, for weeks on end—just gettin’ off and going—and the moment I fuck you…” I scoff, more to myself because I should have known that it was a bad idea to fuck someone so young. “Now you're scared, and you're runnin’.”

"I'm not running," she says, with no more inflection than before.

"Sure, not physically, but emotionally, you're runnin’. You—“

Her eyes are hot on the side of my face as we near her place. “Wasn't just fucking, Vert. It was obviously more than that."

"To who?" Curiosity overwhelming me inside because I don’t know if I can say that there is any difference in attachment from her to me. She’s unhappy about something that happened last night.

Her eyes narrow on me. "For us."

"Us? Us would imply you and me, but it obviously didn't mean anythin’ to you." I'm baiting her in the same way that she baits me, pushing me to face things that I didn't want to. Now that she's in the same boat, she's still trying to run. I'll forever be the cat trying to catch the little mouse. Once just to catch her facing up to her own wrongdoing, and now I just want her to face up to her own feelings for me. I already knew she had, but I didn't realize that showing her any amount of attention back would mean that she'd become whatever the fuck this is right now.

"Let's just forget it happened, okay?"

She cannot be serious.

"Me, forget you? You think I'd forget your sweet little moans for me? You think I'd forget how perfect of a doll you are for me? You'd think I'd forget how good you were submittin’?” Shaking my head I say, “You're wrong. Not only will I not be forgettin’, but I'm gonna fix it, Nina."

"Fix what?" Finally, there's fire behind her words, something I can recognize as being an attribute of the woman who I had been obsessing over.

Yea, fine—Obsessing.

"Fixin’ whatever is broken, Nina. I didn't forget that you're hurtin’ yourself—that you feel the need to."

She flinches hard and though I don’t have my eyes on her the whole time, as soon as the words leave my mouth she’s sharp with her response. “It's none of your business. Just stay out of it."

"That's where you're wrong. The moment I saw those scars, those cuts, I knew that there was somethin’ more underneath. Let me help."