Worry Rock

There are many ways that anyone could be woken up on their birthday. A simple kiss on the cheek, the smell of breakfast that your spouse may be cooking, the feeling of your companions’ arms embracing you sweetly – or in this case, my case, the oh so lovely sounds of my spouse chucking up their own dinner.

My eyes slowly opened to the sound of vomiting coming from the bathroom attached to Billie and my own bedroom. I sighed to myself and tried to ignore it by snuggling up under the covers more. It was obvious that he didn’t want me to hear him, because the bathroom door was closed tightly. Maybe he was embarrassed.

The sound of a toilet flushing and the sink running filled the bedroom as Billie Joe gargled some Listerine. The bathroom door was pulled open and the faucet turned off, leaving only the sound of his soft footsteps as he re-entered the bedroom. The side of the bed sunk down from Billie Joe’s weight as he climbed back onto the mattress and shifted so that he lay next to me, his body pressed up against my own as he wrapped an arm around me, his lips gently grazing the top of my head. “Babe?” he cooed, “Are you awake?”

Yes.

I slowly opened my eyes again and looked up at him, earning a large grin in return. “Hey baby,” he whispered as he moved down more on the bed so that he was eye level with me. “I’d happily kiss you right now, m’dear, but I figure I’ll give the mouthwash a bit of time to sink in before doing so.” I smiled and laughed gently as I placed my head on his chest. Billie Joe’s arms wrapped tighter around me. “Happy birthday, baby,” he added in a sweet tone.

It was hard for me to believe that this man, the man that lay with me that morning in bed was keeping some sort of a secret for me. It was hard to believe that from what I had heard last night, he was lying to me. This man that seemed to innocent was a liar.

“Where’s Sydney?” I asked softly, my eyes slowly adverting towards the digital clock that Billie Joe had replaced after breaking our old one.

“Already in school, darling. She came in earlier to say happy birthday before she left for school, but you were still asleep, so she just let you. You sleep rough last night, baby?”

Actually, I had slept beautifully – once I had fallen asleep, that is. “No,” I murmured. “I slept okay.” I hesitated, not knowing if I should ask a certain question. “What time did you get in?”

“Around twelve,” he admitted. “Pretty late. You were already out, so I didn’t bother you. Plus, I was – well, you know. You heard me this morning.”

I just nodded and he sighed gently as a silence came over the room. Billie Joe looked down at me and slowly arched an eyebrow. “Is something wrong?” he asked gently.

“Besides the fact that I feel old?” I murmured with a smirk. “No,” I lied.

But I’d appreciate it if you told me the truth.

“You feel old?” Billie Joe asked with a chuckle. “Jesus. Imagine how I fucking feel.”

I giggled, burying my head into his tattooed chest. “You’re even older.”

My husband growled playfully at me and dipped his head down to nip at my neck. The thought of last night rolled into my head, and I started to wonder if it had been a nightmare like the one I had with my mother showing up. Billie Joe just seemed so damn…innocent that morning. Was innocent the word for it?

I shook my head, trying to get rid of my thoughts, causing Billie Joe to look at me oddly. “What is it, darling?”

“Nothing,” I lied once again.

“Hmmm,” Billie Joe hummed. He lifted his body to get a better look at my face. An uneasy look became his expression as he traced a hand down from my chin to just above my chest. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

I’d like to ask you the same thing.

The oh-so familiar, yet annoying ring of the house phone shot throughout the house, jutting Billie Joe and I out of the slightly uncomfortable and awkward silence. Billie Joe hesitated and then leant over to grab the portable phone from the charger that rested on the dresser next to us. He turned it on without looking at who was calling, figuring it was my brother. “Hello?” he answered.

“Hey asshole.”

The front man made a disgusted look to the phone and then pressed it back to his ear. “What the hell do you want, man?”

“I want to talk to your wife,” Mike mumbled. “Is she around?”

“Yeah, she’s right next to me.”

“Then would you mind handing the phone to her?”

Billie Joe scowled at his best friend before thrusting the phone in front of my face, quickly apologizing for the rude gesture. I just nodded and shrugged, pulling my body up more. “Hello?”

“Hey, hon.”

I laughed at how his tone had changed in the past ten seconds and lifted my body up from the bed, ignoring Billie Joe’s groans of protest. I held up a finger to him, telling him that I’d be right back as I left the bedroom and entered the hallway, the phone still pressed firmly against my ear. “Hey, Mikey.”

“How are you?” he asked sincerely.

“I’m okay,” I admitted. “I just woke up.”

The bassist chuckled. “Lazy ass.” I went to protest but he cut me off. “Happy Birthday, by the way.”

“Thanks Mike.”

“Of course.” There was silence for a moment. “How is he this morning?”

“He has a hangover,” I mumbled as I stepped into the kitchen, looking over my shoulder to make sure that Billie Joe wasn’t near me. “But it’s slightly obvious that he’s trying to hide it from me. Or well, he would try if he didn’t know that I woke up to him vomiting.”

“Lovely sound on your birthday.”

I laughed. “Exactly what I thought.”

I felt like a complete bitch, downstairs talking on the phone about my husband with his best friend, but it wasn’t like he was an angel. “Are you okay, though?” Mike asked softly.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I haven’t actually confronted him about anything.” I snorted. “I was hoping it was a dream.”

I turned and looked over my shoulder, pressing the phone to it as I heard footsteps descend down the stairs and Billie Joe appeared into the kitchen. He had a black t-shirt clutched in his hand. He grinned that smile that had always made me melt when I was younger as he gently padded over to me and wrapped his arms around my waist, kissing my lips tenderly. I smiled into the kiss and pulled away gently, showing him the phone. The guitarist sighed and nodded and let go of me, going over to the fridge.

I placed the phone back against my ear. “Mike, I should go. Billie is offering to make breakfast.”

I had to hold in a laugh as Billie Joe’s head appeared from the fridge and he shot me a dirty look. I grinned sheepishly, causing him to smile and go back to digging through it, pulling out a carton of eggs, orange juice, and whatever other breakfast foods he could find. “Alright,” Mike said softly, “But if you need me, I’m a phone-call away, dear.”

I smiled genuinely and cradled the phone against my ear. “Thanks Mikey. ‘Means a lot to me.”

“Of course. Happy Birthday, kid.”

“Thanks Mike.”

We both hung up and I placed the phone on the counter, my eyes lifting to watch my husband crack eggs into a bowl. Another smile appeared on my lips as I crossed the kitchen to where he was, wrapping an arm around his waist. Maybe I could forget. Maybe whatever he’s hiding from me is something important, and he’ll tell me later.

He turned around, his hazel eyes focusing in on my figure as he wrapped his arms back around me. He loves you, you know he’s a bad actor, so that limits the fact that he could be acting as if he did.

“You wanna get back in bed?” he asked sweetly, burying his nose into my hair. His fingers hovered over my back, not touching me because of the egg goop that was still on them. “I’ll make breakfast and head up there?”

“Can’t I stay with you?” I asked in a childish voice.

Billie Joe kissed my forehead lightly. “It’s your birthday, baby, you can do whatever you want.”

I giggled and wrapped my arms around his neck, standing on the tips of my toes. His lips met mine in a delicate kiss, his hands aching to touch me, although he didn’t want to risk the moment by getting eggs all over me. “I should wash my hands,” he gasped.

I grinned against his lips, both of us not making the move to pull away. “If you really want to stop, go ahead.”

“You know I don’t wanna.”

“Yeah?” I whispered, my lips brushing his own as I spoke.

“Goddamn,” he breathed out huskily, “Stop being so fucking seductive.”

“But it’s my birthday,” I mocked with a giggle. “I can do whatever I want.”

Billie Joe scowled at me as he took his arms back from around me. I looked at him, confused, but he grinned widely and wiped a finger with egg goo on it on my nose, causing it to stick to it. He wriggled his eyebrows as he turned to the sink to wash it all off of his eggs and then grabbed a spoon from the drawer to mix the eggs with. I leant forward and wiped my nose on his shoulder, causing him to jump and turn around again. I smiled innocently. “I love you,” I told him with a whisper, my lips gently placing themselves on his collarbone.

“I love you, too,” he murmured, his now clean hands cupping my cheek.

Lovers don’t keep secrets.

***

Being a terrible liar was such an inconvenience. Billie Joe being able to read me like an open book was an even worse one. We both sat at the counter, eating the breakfast that Billie Joe had made, creating small talk. We were both hiding things now.

I was hiding that I knew that Billie Joe was hiding something from me, and he was hiding that certain thing.

I had tried constantly to get over it. Just because we were married didn’t mean that we couldn’t have a few secrets. Oh hell, but this wasn’t a secret that should be kept. If I ever kept whatever he was keeping from me from him, he would throw a fit. But then again, I couldn’t hide shit from this man; I was that pathetic. “You seem different,” Billie Joe admitted as we ate out food.

My eyes lifted to connect with his confused ones. “How so?” I asked softly.

He shrugged. “I can’t pinpoint it. You just are – are you sure everything is okay?”

It was one of those very unwanted moments when half of your mind is screaming at you to tell him what wrong, and the other is telling you to sit there and shut up. I bit down on my tongue and closed my eyes for a moment, trying to get my thoughts into focus. It was if there really was a devil on one shoulder, and an angel on the other. Billie Joe stared at me, now utterly confused, but now also knowing that something was, indeed, wrong. “Joe,” he mumbled, setting down his fork. “What’s wrong?”

“We need to talk, Billie,” I blubbered.

“Okay,” he cooed, standing up, now nervous. “About what?”

“The reason Mike called this morning for me.”

“Wasn’t it to say Happy Birthday?” he asked.

“Well, yes,” I stuttered, “But – he was making sure I was okay.”

Billie Joe arched an eyebrow. “Why would he need to do that?”

“He called last night, too, Billie.” The kitchen became silent as realization set in on the rock star that stood across from me. “He was looking for you,” I added in a quiet tone.

Billie Joe sat back down on the stool, knowing damn well that he had been caught. “Oh.”

My eyes opened slowly and I looked across the counter to him. “I’ve tried to ignore it all today, Billie. I tried to not bring it up--,”

“Then let’s continue that,” he replied and then stood up again, roughly grabbing our plates.

I just stared at him in disgust. “And act like you’re not lying to me?” I spat rudely. The older man shoved the plates into the dishwasher, now ignoring me. “I found out, Billie. You’ve been lying to me since fucking February.”

“We’ll talk about this later, Joe. It’s your birthday, can we at least try to be happy?”

“I have, all damn morning. You asked what’s wrong and I’m telling you.”

“Well I take it back,” he snapped. “I don’t want to know. I’ll ask tomorrow.”

He perched himself back on the stool, avoiding eye contact with me. “You told me I could have anything I wanted today, Billie Joe,” I growled. “I want the truth.”

Billie Joe shook his head. “Can you drop it?”

His eyes closed slowly, and he started to try to ignore me now. He had suspected that something was wrong, but he didn’t think it was this. “Tell me who it is,” I finally choked out.

I looked down at the counter and then back up at Billie Joe, whose eyes were now open with a look of fury in them. “Tell you who who is?” he snarled. “You think I’m fucking cheating on you?”

“I don’t know, Billie. The shoe seems a little tight, but it’ll fit.”

I watched as his hands balled into fists and he pressed them firmly against his temples. “I’m ignoring that you just accused me of cheating on you.”

“What other reason would you have to lie to me?” I asked.

“You’re so fucking naïve, Joe,” he spat, refusing to look at me. “Your first thoughts are that I’m cheating on you. I’m asking you right now, Joe. I’m asking you to drop this.”

I just nodded and rested my head onto the counter. I didn’t like to argue with Billie Joe, and it seemed to be too emotionally draining when it was on my birthday. I’m naïve? How am I naïve?

“How am I naïve?” I finally asked.

“I thought this was dropped,” he muttered emotionlessly.

“I can’t just drop it, Billie,” I admitted. “I want to know how I’m naïve.”

“You think I’m cheating on you--,”

“Then prove I’m not.”

“God damnit,” he snarled. “Can’t you just fucking drop it?”

“No,” I choked out. “No, I can’t. You and I have been trying for a baby for months now. How the hell do you expect us to have another child, to bring another life into this world when you can’t even tell me the truth?”

The older man slammed his fists onto the table, startling me. My hand shot to over my mouth as I leant back away from him, him beyond disgusted now. “I am telling you the fucking truth,” he hissed. “I’m asking you to wait til’ tomorrow.”

“Fine,” I said simply. “Fine. Then you can wait til tomorrow for everything else.”

“Stop acting like a fucking child, Joe. It’s pathetic. Act your age.”

“Then tell me what I want to know.”

“You want to fucking know?” he spat out, standing up along with me. “You want to fucking know? I’ve been drinking every goddamn night, Joe. Okay? And hey, I’ll even throw in this to make you fucking happy. I’ve been having groupies, too. Oh yeah,” he snarled sarcastically. “That’s it. You’ve caught me. Yes, Joe, I’m cheating with some thirty-year old bimbo that’s a much better fuck.”

It wasn’t even what he told me that made the tears come, because I knew that he wasn’t really doing anyone else, it was the tone. The tone of his voice and how loud he became is what brought the tears to my eyes. “I just want to know why you don’t tell me the truth…that’s all.”

“Because you nag,” he spat. “You nag, and you nag. If I were to tell you that I was going out drinking you’d nag me. It’s easier for me to tell you I’m with the boys.”

I blinked a few tears back, already being an over-emotional person. My eyes traced the pattern of the tiled floor and Billie Joe sighed, already feeling like a complete dickhead for what he had just said to me. You made her cry on her birthday, man. Class fucking act right there.

“I don’t understand why you’re so angry with me,” I whispered, resting my head in my hand. “I haven’t done anything to you.”

“You couldn’t let it drop. Why can’t you just let us be happy?”

I’m not sure if that he meant for his words to come out that way, but they still did. “I didn’t realize I was puncturing our happiness.”

“Don’t,” he mumbled.

“Don’t what?” I asked softly, not bothering to look at him.

“Don’t take what I just said and run with it.”

“Can you lie off?” I asked him rudely, surprising him. “You just insulted me in so many ways, and when I say something back I get yelled at. I don’t get you, Billie Joe. I just don’t. I’m upset about finding out that you’re a liar, and the only thing you do is yell at me about it.”

“Because you don’t let things go,” he stressed.

I laughed sarcastically. “And you do?”

He sighed loudly and angrily. “Don’t turn this around on me.”

“It was all about you to begin with!” I cried out in a last minute fit of rage. “This whole fucking conversation started with you lying to me! It was all about you to begin with!”

There was a bit of silence for a moment, in which Billie Joe broke. “I can’t be around you when you’re like this,” he told me in a soft tone.

“Then get out.”

Billie Joe’s eyes flashed up to meet mine, a wild and disbelieving look shining through them. “Excuse me?”

“You can’t stand to be around me?” I repeated, my voice quivering along with my bottom lip. “Then get out. Get out of the house. You are a lying bastard, Billie Joe. You lie to me and then you get angry with me when I want to know why. I’m sorry I give a damn, but it’s just how I am. If you can’t take it, then get the hell out.” As soon as the words left my mouth I heard a sob escape my lips, not having the emotional power to hold it down.

Billie Joe just stared at me, having no idea what to do. He wanted to wrap his arms around me and apologize, but his egotistical side took care of that easily. He stared at me for a few more moments before stumbling out of the kitchen, through the lounge and to the front door. His hand wrapped around the doorknob and he stood there in last minute hesitation.

The frontman’s eyes whirled around, hearing a few sobs from the kitchen. She had told him to get out, the least he could do is one thing she wanted that day.

After all, it was her birthday.

***

My head tilted back against the cushion of the couch, a long stream of smoke escaping my lips. Smoking is by far the most disgusting habit anyone could pick up – which is why I was lucky to not have. However, no matter how disgusting it was, there comes a time in everyone’s life where they feel as if they actually need a cigarette…or a few.

Billie Joe was a chain smoker, so of course it wasn’t hard to find a pack of Camel’s around the house. I didn’t bother stepping outside to smoke them, I really didn’t care. The phone sat on the arm of the couch, me disgustingly desperate for Billie Joe to call me and tell me that he was sorry and that he wanted to come home and be with me.

But he didn’t.

My eyes closed slowly as I took one last drag before stubbing the cigarette out. I needed to get over this, really. It was pathetic how much I was dwelling over the fact that Billie Joe left.

Of course he left. You kicked him out, dumbass.

I slowly lifted my body up and off the couch and dragged myself into the kitchen, placing the ashtray on the counter and throwing out the half-full pack of cigarettes. I sighed to myself and sat down on the stool, trying to tell myself that this wasn’t a big deal. Billie Joe and I had argued plenty of times before.

The phone rang, causing me up jump. It had been ringing all day, friends and family calling me to say happy birthday. I let the answer machine pick up all of them.

Billie Joe’s voice appeared on the machine and then came the beep, signaling that the person could leave a message. I dropped my head down onto the counter, my hands gliding along the edge of the marble. “Hey, Mand. No need to pick up, I just wanted to say Happy Birthday to you-,”

My head snapped up and I stared at the machine for a moment, my mind fighting with itself to pick up or not. I tried to quickly make a pros and cons list of picking up the phone, but as soon as he started to say, “So I’ll talk to you later,” I tore the phone from the charger and clicked it on. “Hello?”

There was a bit of silence, and I started to curse at myself for missing him. “Mand?”

A grin appeared on my face as I cradled the phone against my ear. “Travis?”

“Yeah, hey hon. I didn’t expect you to pick up – Happy Birthday.”

I smiled wearily, brushing a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “Thanks, Trav.”

“It’s no problem.” There was a bit of hesitation in his voice for a moment. I sniffled lightly, wiping my eyes. “Are you okay, hon? You sound like you’re upset.”

“I’m okay,” I lied.

“You sure? Where’s Billie?”

My eyes closed and I took a deep breath. “Uh…he’s not—he’s not here. He left.”

It was obvious that Travis didn’t want to get in the middle of whatever was going on, knowing that Billie Joe already didn’t like him. “Why?” he asked.

“We had a fight.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, his tone more sweet.

“I’ll be okay,” I murmured.

“You want me to come over?”

I nodded and then realized that Travis couldn’t see me. “It’d make my day,” I said softly.

Travis chuckled. “Alright, hon. I’ll be over in a few minutes, alright?”

“Okay Trav. Thank you.”

“Any time.”

I hung up the phone and placed it back in the charger. I would have taken a shower to get the scent of cigarettes off of me, but Travis lived close enough so that I’d just be getting in when he’d be at the house, especially with the pace I was keeping up with. I pushed myself up and away from the counter, emptying the ashes from the ashtray into the garbage and tucking the lighter away in a drawer.

In a last moment decision I jogged up the stairs and into our bedroom, quickly changing from my pajamas to jeans and an over-sized Adeline t-shirt. I tied the ends that hung down in the back with a rubber band and pressed my nose to the shirt, smelling Billie Joe since he was the last one to wear it. At least I smelt a little better.

I sat down on the bed and sighed, running a hand through my hair as I pulled my legs up to my chest.

Was the truth that hard?

Or was I really just a nag?

My eyes snapped back open and I took a long, deep breath as I heard someone knock at the door. I got up and stumbled through the house to the door, pulling it open as soon as I reached it. Travis stood on the other side of the doorway, a smile on his lips when he saw me. His hands were tucked firmly into his jacket, a hat sitting on his head, a pair of sunglasses sitting on the brim of his hat. “Hey,” he said softly, leaning in to kiss my cheek.

“Hi,” I squeaked.

I stepped aside, letting him inside the Berkeley home. Travis took a whiff of the air and then arched an eyebrow, giving me a confused look. He placed his nose on the top of my head and then pulled away. “You smell of cigarettes.”

I pulled away from his grasp and sighed. “I smoked a few.”

Travis gave me a slightly disgusted face. “Since when do you smoke?”

“Are you telling me you’ve never been upset and smoked?” I challenged.

Travis gave me a lopsided smile and shrugged off his jacket, placing it on the arm of the couch. “When I was younger,” he agreed. “But you should know better.” I giggled as I stepped closer, resting my head against his chest as his arms wrapped themselves around me. “You want to tell me what happened, dear?”

“Yeah,” I murmured like a child. “But it smells bad in here.”

“Indeed it does.”

I grabbed Travis by his hand and lead him up the stairs and down the long hallway and eventually to Billie Joe’s and my own bedroom. I pushed the door open and brought him inside, closing it behind us. Travis’s eyes scanned the walls of the room and everything else inside of it. He smiled. “I’ve never been in here. It’s nice.”

I returned the smile and forced my body over to the bed, him following after me and sitting down on it next to me. I sighed loudly and curled up. Travis wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close to him. I grinned and knocked him backwards onto the bed, his long legs resting on the ground still. He pulled off his hat and placed it elsewhere on the bed as I curled up next to him. “I was a bitch,” I finally admitted after a long moment of silence.

“How so?” he asked softly.

“Billie and I were having a good morning,” I mumbled. “We really were. Mike called, though, so I got up and went downstairs to talk to him since we were talking about Billie.” I paused and shook my head, closing my eyes. “I found out he’s been lying to me for months, Travis. Since February. He knows that I base a relationship on love and trust, and he lied to me.”

“About what?” Travis asked, turning to face me.

I knew that if for some reason, Billie Joe were to walk into the house right now and to come upstairs, he would freak out. He would tell me that I was a hypocrite and tell me that I was the one cheating, even though I wasn’t doing anything wrong. “Drinking – I don’t know what else, I just know drinking. He told me he’s been out with the guys and he’s not. I don’t know what the hell he’s doing.” I stopped, feeling a sob bubble in my throat, messing up my voice. “I just know that he’s been lying, and when I confronted him he yelled at me. I don’t know, maybe I’m upset over nothing but --,”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Travis gasped, his deep blue eyes closing as he tried to think. “He’s been lying to you, telling you he’s with Mike and Tre when he’s not?” I nodded, not speaking. “Then where is he?”

“He hasn’t really told me. All he said is that he drinks.”

Travis wrapped an arm around me, rubbing my back affectionately. “And he walked out?”

“I kicked him out,” I mumbled.

Travis laughed, despite how he felt for me. “I’m sorry, hon,” he said earnestly. “It’s not right of him to lie to you.”

“I shouldn’t have confronted him on my birthday. He asked me to drop the subject; I should have.”

“No,” Travis cooed. “You had every right to want to know what your husband was doing behind your back. He should have just told you to get it over with. Without yelling.”

I nodded, feeling a few tears escape my eyes and run down my cheeks, dropping onto his shoulder. “Sorry,” I apologized, wiping at my eyes.

“It’s alright to cry, Mand.”

“I don’t want to look like a damn baby,” I protested.

Travis rolled his eyes. “You had a terrible day, and it’s only Twelve-thirty. You have a right to cry, and you won’t look like a baby. Anyone would understand.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and let out a soft sob, Travis’s arm traveling to the back of my neck as he held me against him, allowing me to cry more than I already had. “I just don’t get why I have to be lied to,” I repeated.

“I don’t either,” he murmured. “But men are disgusting assholes who lie constantly. You, unfortunately, are too trusting, and you get hurt. You don’t deserve it.”

I buried my head into his shoulder, wrapping an arm around his neck. “Maybe I do.”

“You don’t,” he argued softly.

“Tell Billie that,” I mumbled.

Travis laughed softly. “I would, but he’d come after me.” I smiled against him, curling up more against him as a silence overcame the room. “I don’t want you to spend your birthday sad,” Travis said.

“I won’t.”

“Hmm…” he hummed. He lifted a hand and tapped his chin, earning a confused look from me.

“What?” I asked slowly.

“When does Sydney get home?”

“Three,” I stated.

“How about,” he started, looking over at me. “You spend however long you need to get the shtank off of you, take a shower and all that, and I’ll take you and Sydney out.”

“Where?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.

“It’s your birthday, you decide.”

“You don’t have to,” I said softly. “Really, Travis. I’m fine at home.”

“I know I don’t have to. But I want to. It’s your birthday; you need to be able to be happy.”

“I’d be happy enough if you stayed here.”

“And I will,” he offered. “Now I’m telling you, I want to take you somewhere. I’m as stubborn as a mule, darling, you’ll never change my mind.”

I giggled. “Okay then.” The thirty-eight year old sat up, pulling me up with him. He then stood up and pulled me into a standing position. I hugged him, kissing his cheek. “Thank you so much.”

Travis held up a hand and shook his head. “There’s no need to thank me, hon.”

“You’re amazing.”

He just smiled, his cheeks going a slight rosy tint as I pulled away and went ruffling through drawers, pulling out a nice blouse and a pair of dark jeans to change into. “I’ll be back,” I said with a slight smile. “You can stay in here, or whatever.”

He nodded and looked over to me as I entered the bathroom that was connected to the bedroom, lightly shutting the door behind me. His eyes didn’t linger, they stayed on the door as the he heard the shower turn on and he smiled.