Seducing Mr. Grumpy

9. Letting the mask slip, just a little. [Part 2]

"What?"

"You downplay what you feel, downplay what’s happened to you, you take care of me while you’re burning up with fever, you tell me about your traumatic experience like you're just talking about a stroll in the park. I bet I don’t even know the tip of the iceberg, because that’s who you are."

His words send a chill down my spine, and I straighten up, taking a step closer to him.

"Who am I, then?"

"Selfless to the point it drives me insane! You hate when people worry about you and in your stubbornness, you forget about yourself!"

"Why are you suddenly yelling?!"

"Because you’re yelling!"

"You started it!"

Dominic brings his hands forward and flexes his fingers, then lets out a deep, frustrated growl, like he doesn’t know what to do with me.

I breathe hard, staring at him as anger boils under my ribs.

"I bet even your parents don’t know what happened," he says, pacing the room like a completely different person. Then he stops and throws at me, “Or am I wrong?”

He’s provoking me, isn’t he?

"Don’t you dare," I warn him.

"So it’s true," he says with a laugh that’s anything but kind.

"Of course my parents don’t know everything! My dad would’ve lost his mind and my mom would’ve burned the world down!"

"Then what the hell did you tell them?!"

They think it was the hotel staff who found that sick bastard while I was out. They don’t know a thing about what I went through.

But I don’t say that to Dominic. I say nothing—and that only makes him lose control even more.

"You drive me f*****g crazy!"

"Screw you."

"So mature, Summer."

"Well, I’ve never been mature, according to you."

"And this just proves it," he says, and I swear I’m about to breathe fire. "Growing up means admitting when you can’t do it alone, giving in when the weight on your shoulders is crushing you—accepting when you can’t go on!"

"Oh, and you’re a shining example of that, aren’t you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You don’t even know how to deal with the idea of your mom getting sick again. You created a rift between you and your father because you’re terrified of turning into him…"

"Summer…" My name might as well be a curse. He’s so tense he looks like he’s about to snap.

"You cried in my arms when you were twelve, scared not just of losing your mother while she was fighting cancer, but also scared of losing your father—because he was the one suffering the most through it all, and it made you angry that, for the first time, he wasn’t the strong one in the situation. The image you had of him shattered, and ever since then, all you’ve done is resent him for it!"

He clenches his jaw, saying nothing, just staring at me.

At this point, we’re both breathing shallowly, glaring at each other, full of rage… but I don’t stop there.

"I have a therapy session every week. That’s how I fight through everything I’ve been through. What do you do, Dominic, besides shutting down every possibility of feeling something real?"

"My lack of interest in a relationship has nothing to do with my father," he says, tense, but I laugh—because I don’t believe him for a second. "This is about you and how you downplay everything that happens to you!"

"What do you want to hear, Dominic?!" I shout, finally losing it. "That I felt like I was dying while that psycho did those things in my bed?! Fine! I felt like I was dying! Is that what you want?! What else do you want me to say?! That I threw out all my clothes after that, which is why I barely have anything in my suitcase? That I can’t sleep in a bed and sometimes have nightmares about what could’ve happened if he had found me?! That I’m terrified he might’ve already snuck in while I was sleeping and touched me and I don’t even know?!"

"Summer…"

"He made me doubt my own choices and turned my dreams into nightmares! Every decision I make now feels dangerous. All I feel is fear, anxiety, and this overwhelming sense that I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with my life because I’m too scared of putting myself in danger again!"

We stare at each other, emotions so thick in the air I could touch them. And Dominic has never looked so intense, so flustered, so out of control—yet he’s incredibly gentle when he says:

"Then… sleep with me."

I glance at his bed, knowing exactly what he means.

And I won’t lie—it's tempting. I’m tired of sleeping on the floor, with nothing but a blanket and a pillow shielding me from the cold. But I can’t use him as a crutch, because then… how will I walk when he’s no longer here? I'm not stupid—he won’t always be around.

Becoming dependent on Nic would be the worst mistake I could make.

"No."

And I walk away before I do something stupid—like say yes.

Once inside my room, I lick my lips and try to calm my racing heart. Reliving everything I’ve been through and getting worked up like that definitely didn’t help. And just the sight of the bed makes it worse. So even if I already slept in Nic’s bed once, I’m not ready to risk trying mine.

Like I do every night, I toss a comforter on the floor, a pillow, lie down on top of it, and pull a sheet over myself.

Everything Dominic and I said rushes through my mind, keeping me wide awake. After that day in the hospital, when Dominic cried in my arms, my feelings for him intensified. I was only ten, but from the moment I saw how vulnerable he was beneath all those walls he puts up, I promised myself I would never give up on him.

So no matter what happens, I’ll never turn my back on him… he’s in my blood.

The sore throat and headache don’t help, so I’m fully awake when my door opens and he walks in. It’s sad how I can recognize his footsteps immediately. I just know it’s him.

“Nic, I don’t want to argue anymore,” I say, turning my back to him.

"And I want to sleep peacefully, without worrying you’ll wake up with pneumonia from sleeping on the damn floor."

"I’m fine."

"f**k, Summer, if I hear you say that one more time, I swear…" He stops, and I wonder how that sentence ends, but then he adds quickly, "Please."

I stay silent, not wanting to give in. So he continues:

"If you won’t do it for you, do it for me. Because I swear on my life, if you keep being this stubborn, I’ll grab my pillow and sleep right here on the floor next to you. Then we’ll both end up with pneumonia."

God, he’s impossible when he sets his mind to something.

"Just for tonight," I whisper, barely audible.

My heart pounds so hard and I’m so scared—so scared that a sob escapes me. A sob full of pain even I can hear, feel, live through more intensely.

Quickly, Dominic lifts me in his arms and carries me to his bed, pulls the sheet up over us. I scoot back while he lies on the edge, leaving a considerable space between us. I’m thankful for the distance—now more than ever, I need that barrier.

I’m scared. But I’m scared of him and what I’m starting to feel… and that’s the most terrifying feeling in the world.

"Nic," I say in the dark.

“Mmm?” There’s some rustling on the bed as he tries to get comfortable.

I open my mouth, then close it. But finally, I let it out.

"You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah," he whispers.

I smile, letting the tears fall silently.

"And I always will."

Silence. Then a soft, "Goodnight, Sum."

"Goodnight, Nic."

[2/2]