Cleave

“Okay, what the hell is going on with you?” Max asked me on Friday afternoon. We were at his place because he had a day shift at the hospital, meaning we were supposed to be having some “couple time” (as he called it). He had just tried to initiate sex and I had just refused, saying that I didn't feel like it. “You've been moody and withdrawn all week. If I didn't know any better I'd think you were PMSing.”

“Fuck off,” I snapped.

“My point exactly. You've been like this since Monday, so what is it?”

“It's nothing.”

“Bullshit. Tell me now,” he demanded.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No, just leave it!”

“Not until you tell me what it is. You're such a fucking child sometimes. I'm trying to help you here.”

I glared at him. “Maybe I don't want your help. And if you wanted someone more mature, why didn't you date someone your own age?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it, Angel.” He sighed. “I know something’s going on with you, and I just want to know what it is.”

This conversation was starting to make me angry. I didn't want to tell Max what was going on. How fucking hard was that to understand? “It's got nothing to do with you, so just forget about it,” I snapped, turning to walk away into his bedroom so I could have some peace and quiet. A tight hand grip on my bicep, however, stopped me in my tracks. “Let go of me.”

Max pulled on my arm so that I was once more facing him. His fingers flexed, tightening his grip just a little bit more. It didn't hurt but it was uncomfortable. “Not until you tell me.”

“Oh my God, what are you, the fucking FBI? But you know what? Fine. Micah's back. Happy now? Now get the fuck off me,” I shouted, ripping my arm out of his grip and pushing him away from me. He let me. His face was one of shock. I moved towards the front door to his apartment, just wanting to leave after our fight, but Max wasn't having that. He rushed past me to block the door, so I stopped. I folded my arms across my chest and glared at him, waiting for him to either move or speak.

After a few long silent seconds of the two of us just facing off, he decided to speak. “What do you mean, ‘Micah's back’?”

“Exactly what I fucking said. He's back.”

“How do you know?”

“Saw him.”

Max stared at me, waiting for me to elaborate. I rolled my eyes. “He came into McDonald's on Sunday,” I told him eventually.

“I see. Did you talk to him?” Max demanded. His eyes were clouding over, like he was getting pissed off for some reason.

“No. I couldn't.”

“Good. Don't,” he said with authority. The tone in his voice made my blood boil again, but I tried to stay calm so I could see where this conversation was going.

“Why not?” I asked as calmly as I could.

“Because I don't think it's a good idea. Because he left you without a word. Because you're with me now and I don't want you talking to your ex. Good enough reasons for you?”

Max’s tone was belligerent and I hated it. Plus his reasons sucked.

“It's not up to you to decide if it's a good idea. I know he left me without a word but that's why I want to talk to him and get some closure,” I countered. “And as for the talking to my ex bullshit, you work with yours, and I don't have a problem with that.”

Max sighed and looked at me with what I assumed was a pitying expression. “He broke your heart, Angel. He didn't even love you enough to say goodbye or explain why he was leaving, and that's even if he loved you at all. I know you've been thinking the same thing. But I'm here. I love you, and I would never do that. I'm just trying to look out for you," he said.

As much as I hated to admit it, some of the things he said made sense. Max was right; Micah didn’t say goodbye to me when he left, and I don’t know if that was because he wasn’t able to or because he didn’t want to, but he also never contacted me in the entire year he was gone, and that hurt. But Max was there for me the entire time and I know that he loves me. Maybe trying to speak to Micah again was a really bad idea.

I was looking at Max while I processed what he had said. I sighed in defeat. I didn’t want to argue with him anymore, and I didn’t want to decide then and there what to do about Micah, so I chose to leave it alone for now. "I know... I know. I'm sorry. It's just... It really threw me, seeing him again," I said. Max drew me into his arms and I allowed myself to melt into his hug.

Max buried his face in my hair as he held me tightly. "Love you," he mumbled.

"I know," I whispered back before I pulled away. I took his hand and led him into the bedroom.

He got right to business undressing us and pushing me down on the bed, but as much as I was a willing participant – I mean, I did initiate it that time – I wasn’t really feeling it and was pretty unresponsive. Max didn’t seem to notice that my mind was elsewhere until he was finishing off and I wasn’t begging for release like I usually was.

"Angel," he began, frowning and sounding annoyed. "Just forget about him, okay? You're with me now and you need to get the fuck over him."

I nodded, and he took that as his cue to work at getting me off. It took a while, but eventually I came with a quiet moan, but by that time, Max's facial expression was one of annoyance.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. He didn’t say anything as he got off the bed and grabbed his clothes, pulling them on and then walking out of the room. I lay there for a few minutes before I copied his actions, but going one step further by kissing him goodbye and leaving his apartment.

When I got into the cabin of my truck, I punched at the steering wheel once, twice, three times.

"Fuck!" I yelled. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

I was annoyed. At what, I wasn’t sure. Max – for telling me some difficult truths? Micah – for coming back and dragging all the feelings I had slowly been letting go of back again? Myself – for being an idiot and telling Max that Micah was back even though I promised myself I wouldn’t? For possibly ruining my relationship because I'm still hung up on my ex?

To be honest, it was probably all of the above, but I hated everything in that moment. Plus I still had no idea what I was going to do about the whole Micah scenario. I was so lost. I just wanted someone to make my decisions for me. Better yet, I wanted to go back in time and insist that Micah and I have sex at my house instead of his on my birthday so we wouldn’t have gotten caught by his mother and all of this shit wouldn’t have happened.

But most importantly, I just wanted to be happy, because I knew that I hadn't been truly happy since my 17th birthday.