Amaya
As soon as the door was shut behind me, he pushed through it. I let out a yelp of annoyance as the door busted open and swiveled on my heel to see what the f**k he wanted.
“How can I help you?” I demanded, furious that he was coming into this place like this. My room was meant to be my space. That was how I understood it. And I had worked so hard keeping him out of here, keeping him at arm’s length, keeping him so far from me emotionally that I could begin to convince myself there was nothing going on, not really. I planted my hands on my hips as he stood there, chest rising and falling quickly, trying to think of something to say.
“Well?” I prompted him.
“You need to talk to me,” he shot back finally. He was never much good at coming up with what he needed to say at the time he
