Chasing Cars

I went right back to the shop after Chris and I argued. Since we’d already talked, I figured it was okay to finally check the few voicemails he’d left me. They’d started with “Just call me back, please?” and “I didn’t do anything wrong. Let me explain.” And then he clearly got worried and started with, “Just let me know you’re okay.”

He didn’t call again once we’d talked. I figured he was still upset about our argument, but he showed up at the shop the next day while I was at work. I saw him approaching on the sidewalk through all the Marvel posters, and my heart felt like it seized in my chest.

“Hey,” I said when he stepped in.

“Hey, I need to talk to you.”

“Sure, yeah.”

“Buy you lunch?”

“Yeah, let me just get my things.” I went to the back to grab my sweater and let them know I was leaving. Then I followed him out to his car. We didn’t speak until we found a place to get food.

“So, what do you need to talk about?” I asked once we got settled into a booth.

“I have to leave again in a few days. The season is starting soon, so I have a ton of press to do. It’ll be about a month before I’m back home again.”

“You’ll miss my next appointment.”

“I’ll have to take a rain check, but let me know how it goes.” He went to get our order and then returned with the heavy tray. We took a minute to disperse everything before I spoke again.

“I’m really sorry about yesterday.” He shrugged lightly, paying more attention to his fries than me. Even though he’d calmed down, I could tell he was still upset.

“I’m getting used to it,” he said. I glared.

“What’s that supposed to mean.”

“It means you say things you don’t mean when you’re upset. You run away when you’re scared and seek revenge when you’re pissed off. You were all of those things yesterday. So you did all of those things. Like fucking clockwork.”

He was still sifting through his fries and not looking at me. I was still glaring at him, but he didn’t even notice. He was right, of course. But I didn’t want to admit it, and I hated being called out.

“Yeah, well—you’re an asshole.” He finally looked up at me.

“And you don’t like admitting the truth.” We had another stare-down.

“I admit what I have to.”

“Oh yeah? Like what exactly?”

“Like that, I was upset because I was jealous, and I’ve been really depressed, and I fucking love you, you jerk. And I hate it when you goad me like that.” He was silent for a second. His expression was still stern.

“Good to know.” He returned to his fries, and I flipped him off. “That used to be considered an invitation.”

“It still is, but you keep rejecting me.”

“I only reject you because you broke up with me, and I’m trying not to hurt the both of us. But it’s not working. I can already tell. I want you so fucking bad it’s eating me up inside.”

“Then stop rejecting me.”

“Fine. Then I’m coming over with dinner tomorrow night, and we’re going to have the best angry sex of our lives. I’ll fuck you until you scream my name and tell me you love me. We’ll make each other forget how much we’re killing ourselves.”

“Fine. I’ll wear the sexy red panties.”

“Fine.”

And that was it.

After lunch, he dropped me off with a quick kiss like usual. Even though we’d technically argued again, and there was some obvious tension, I think we managed to blow off some steam. Or at least we came to an agreement about how we were going to blow off the remaining steam.

I was in a much better mood the next day. I knew Chris was coming over, and I wouldn’t have to try very hard to convince him to stay. He got there just as I was digging through the fridge.

“Hey, I said I was bringing dinner,” he said, dropping the bag on the coffee table.

“I couldn’t wait,” I retorted.

He marched across the room, right into the kitchen, and pushed me up against the fridge. His mouth went right to my neck, getting a hiss of pleasure out of me. And then he moved it to my jaw and then my lips. His hands were moving up and down my body. My breathing went ragged. I forgot all about the snacks and dinner. I just dug my fingers into his shirt and groaned.

“You’re very eager,” I noted. He moved his lips back to my throat again.

“I’m sex-deprived.”

“What about dinner?”

“It can wait.”

“Are you going to stay the night?”

“Do you want me to?” He bit down on my neck, and I whimpered, nearly collapsing in his arms.

“Yes,” I breathed out.

“Then I’m staying. I have to leave early, though. We leave tomorrow.”

“That’s fine.” He pulled away from me, but only to take both my hands and lead me to the bedroom.

“Are you wearing the red panties?” he asked, eyes hooded as he stared down at me. There was still a hint of anger in him. But instead of making me upset, it just made me want to ride it out of him.

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” He made a sound that could have been described as a growl.