The smile freezes on my face. I hesitate with my answer, knowing in my gut that he’s taking this conversation in the wrong direction.
"Yes, I've been to Mexico. Maggie said this resort was the best she's ever been to. But we don't have to go to Mexico, we can go somewhere else…"
He frowns at me. "So were you and Maggie exchanging Mexico stories today? Comparing trip notes?"
I blink quickly, unable to tear myself away from Steve's gaze. "A little, but—"
"Didn't you go on that trip with Tommy?" he interrupts.
I close my eyes with a hard swallow when he confirms the unfortunate direction of the conversation. I rack my brain for some way to answer this question that won't set him off.
I open my eyes and lock onto his with a pleading look. "Yes, but—"
Steve scoffs and shakes his head, the look of disdain unmistakable on his face. "Unbelievable." He laughs coldly. "So while I'm out buying you flowers, thinking about how much I love you, you're walking around thinking about your ex?"
"Steve, it wasn't like that," I say hurriedly, trying to reel back his thoughts before they completely derail the evening. "Maggie was telling me about her trip, and I thought you would love a tropical vacation since you've been working so hard—"
"Just stop," Steve cuts me off again. I open my mouth to defend myself, but when I see his jaw clench, I close my mouth and shrink back into my seat. My hands fidget in my lap as I wait for him to say what he's clearly thinking.
But he just continues glaring, his grip on his fork becoming more and more white-knuckled, until finally he tosses it onto his plate and shoves the whole thing away from himself. With another shake of his head, he stands and walks out of the kitchen, at the same time yelling over his shoulder, “And put some fucking clothes on. You look like a stripper.”
I glance down at the crop top I’m wearing and immediately cross my arms over my chest, curling forward in an effort to cover myself. I stay seated, feeling shell-shocked at how quickly tonight went downhill. I hear the TV come on in the living room and exhale a shaky breath that I hadn’t been able to let out, finally feeling like I can relax my nerves now that he’s left the room. I’m relieved enough that I don’t even care that he didn’t ask how my day went.
I pick at the rest of my dinner, feeling a sudden loss of appetite. I know Steve hates any mention of my ex, so I always try my hardest to steer any conversations away from him. I should've known better than to bring up Mexico. I should've known he'd make the connection and misunderstand my thought process.
When I realize that Steve isn't going to come back, I sigh and begin clearing off the table. His distance and silence make me think he needs some space to cool down. And since I was the one that set him off, I can at least grant him that much.
The strong Philly girl in me would rather deal with a problem head-on and clear it up rationally, but Steve’s never been like that. He’s always balanced out my preference for bluntness by forcing us to take some time apart. I’ve even wondered lately if my method of confrontation does more harm than good, since the worst fights we’ve ever had were when I tried to vocalize—probably too loudly—my opinion in the heat of the fight. I’ve stopped trying to force the argument, and instead let him lead the time and pace.
I take my time cleaning the kitchen and then eventually settle in for the night. By 9:00, I'm sitting in bed with my laptop, working on homework and wishing Steve would come to bed so we could put this fight to rest.
But at 10:30, I can still hear the sounds of the TV, so I shut my laptop and turn off the light on my side of the bed. I fall asleep with the thought that I wish my boyfriend was a little less emotional and a little more rational.
I've just started falling asleep when I feel the bed dip. A small smile forms on my lips, even in my sleepy state, and I turn over to press myself against Steve's arm, nuzzling into his neck with a contented hum .
Only the contentment immediately evaporates because Steve immediately turns away from me and rolls over. I pull myself onto my elbow and try to blink away my groggy surprise. But the fact still remains that my boyfriend is quite literally giving me the cold shoulder.
I try to ignore the way my stomach drops at the clear snub. Instead, I drop onto my back and stare up at the ceiling, knowing it will be a long while before I can still my thoughts and fall back to sleep.
2
HAILEY
The bed is empty when I wake to my alarm the next morning. I exhale a heavy breath and try to listen for sounds that might tell me Steve is still in the apartment.
Sure enough, I hear the clink of dishes in the kitchen. I make a silent wish that this morning's interaction is better than last night's, since Steve is the king of giving the silent treatment and because I never know how long he's going to stay angry after a jealous episode.
Once I've showered and gotten ready for work, I cautiously make my way to the kitchen. When I step into the room, Steve is sitting at our little dining table, drinking his coffee and reading something on his phone. He doesn't acknowledge my presence in any way.
"Morning," I greet softly, hoping to start this day on a pleasant note.
He shoots me a quick glance. "Hey," he responds, his expression devoid of emotion, then returns to his phone.
I stifle the exasperated huff that almost escapes and make my way over to the coffee machine.
And the entire time that I eat my toasted bagel, drink my coffee, and pack my lunch, Steve continues to sip his coffee and ignore me for his phone. It's like I'm not even in the room right now.
I drop my dishes into the sink with a little more force than necessary. But I can't help it, I'm getting frustrated that we can't talk through a silly little problem. I'm frustrated that it's even an issue at all. It's not like I brought up my ex-boyfriend and started raving about how well he used to fuck me.