Page 23 of The Status Situation

“Look,” he begins once we reach the door. “I can tell you’re freaking out about what I said back there. It’s causing you to shut down on me, and I don’t like it.” Pinching my chin with his fingers, he lifts my gaze to his. “I’m not going to lie to you, Maria; that’s not who I am. I meant what I said. Even though we barely know each other, I am already head over fucking heels for you. So, you have a decision to make. Either you’re all-in, and you want to explore this with me, or you don’t, and we end this now before it gets too messy. The last thing I want is for you to get hurt.”

Instead of waiting for me to form a response, he kisses me for what feels like the millionth time today. But it’s still just as amazing as the first time, and leaves me just as breathless.

“Take all the time you need to work through whatever is going on in your head, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

I still can’t form a single fucking word as he gives me a sad smile and walks back to his car. My heart breaks at the sight of how defeated he looks because it’s my fault that he feels that way. For reasons even I don’t know, I am seemingly incapable of allowing myself to be happy.

Ten

Maria

Three Days Later

The last thing I want is for you to get hurt.

Those words keep echoing in my head over and over again, even now, and just like every other time, they threaten to knock me on my ass. Thankfully, I’m already on my bed, curled up among the mound of pillows and blankets, where I’ve been for the last three days.

Unfortunately, I am no closer to figuring out why Mark telling me that he was falling for me freaked me out so much than I was the day he told me. Why it’s still freaking me out. I do know that I am not the kind of girl that guys fall for. I’m the one who does the falling. Just… not usually by the second date. And all those relationships ended in disaster when they abandoned me for something better, leaving me feeling less than and unworthy. I’m told that’s why I’m so desperate for some kind of intimate connection.

It’s funny, I want love and intimacy more than anything, but I know better than anyone that I’m not worthy of it. Hence, my pity party.

The door to my room bangs open, making me cower deeper into my cocoon of sadness. I already know who it is, and I am in no mood to talk to him. Or anyone else, for that matter.

“Alright, enough of this mopey bullshit, Maria,” Darius demands. “Get up.”

“No,” I grumble into my pillow. “Go away, Darius. Leave me alone.”

“Bitch, you and I both know that’s not going to happen.”

I sigh when I hear him cross the floor, and the bed dips as he crawls in next to me. Knowing that I’m not getting rid of him, I yank the blanket off my head and roll onto my back, giving him the best glare I can muster through my puffy eyes. I have been crying off and on for days now.

“You’d better not have your shoes on my bed.”

He throws a look right back. “Oh, shut up. You need to wash your bedding anyway. Now, do you want to tell me why we are pulling the anti-social, bed gremlin routine?”

“No,” I pout.

“Let me rephrase,” he corrects. “You are going to tell me why we are pulling the anti-social, bed gremlin routine.”

I am about to tell him to shove it when he presses his finger against my lips, silencing me.

“And you are going to tell me the truth so I can help fix it.” He folds his arms across his chest, settling back against the headboard. “I’ve had to work with over-sharing Sherri for the last two days because you’ve called out.”

I try to suppress a laugh, though I don’t try too hard. “Come on, she’s not that bad.”

“You know I never kink shame,” he tells me. “It’s like a rule I have. Everyone likes what they like, and that’s great. But I can only listen to her talk about the kinds of things she steps on for the feet pictures she sells for so long before I want to shove a coffee spoon in my ear.”

I laugh loudly for the first time in days.

I love Sherri—we both do—but she does tend to overshare. A lot. Hence the nickname. Truthfully, though neither one of us will admit it, we are just jealous. She makes bank selling pictures of her feet, and the only reason she works at The Brew is that she gets bored during the day.

“I’m sorry,” I say after another fit of giggles.

“Yeah, you should be,” he retorts. A beat later, his face softens, and he takes my hand in his. “Enough avoiding the subject. What’s going on?”

I sigh. “It’s Mark.”

He nods, and I get the distinct impression that he already knew that. “I thought things were going well on that front.”