Chapter 17: Seventeen

"Nevermind." I blinked at him. Nevermind? Agh! Why was he so impossible?

I rolled my eyes with a huff, continuing on my previous path to my supplies. Thankfully, only using one brush made for a simple clean up. I carried it, still submerged in the vase, to the large paint sink in the storage closet.

I heard him swear, then follow after me.

"Don't." I warned blandly. I was so tired of having this conversation with him. I already knew how it would end. He would find some other big news drop to distract me, we would have sex, and then I would forget about the fact that he refused to commit to anything yet again. Well, until next time it got brought up and singlehandedly crushed my self-esteem. Nope. No thanks.

"Jennifer, I'm sorry." I started humming a tune to drown him out. I just wanted to clean my brush in peace. "Jennifer." Do, do do do. "God dammit, Jennifer, listen to me!" He shouted, making me jump and sending the glass vase tumbling to the ground at my feet. Shards of sharp glass pierced my skin, and I hissed in pain.

"Fucking-!"

"Shit, don't move."

"I'm not fucking moving, Joel." Did he expect me to step onto more glass? Honestly.

But he ignored my hostility, retrieving a handheld broom and dustpan. Blood was trickling down from my ankles, pooling in my shoes. Damn it. It stung. Paint water wasn't meant to enter the bloodstream.

He started by clearing the large pieces so he could step closer.

"Why is it that everytime you freak out, you break something?" He mumbled angrily. Excuse me?

"It broke because you fucking shouted at me!" He flinched, his jaw tightening with his restraint. But I wasn't holding back. Oh no, he was not going to blame me for him being a jackass. "You can't just yell every time I don't obey you, asshole!"

"And you can't throw a fit just because I won't call you my girlfriend!" Black, red, orange. Flames.

"Fuck you!" I screeched, my eyes red and clouded with rage and embarrassment. Ignoring the sting, I moved to step past him, but he caught my legs, lifting me over his shoulder as I struggled against him. "Put me down!"

"Shut the fuck up! People are going to think I'm hurting you!" He growled. But he was!

"Then put me down! I didn't give you permission to touch me!" But he just kept walking. I dug my fingernails deep into his back, my teeth burying into his shoulder blade.

"Fuck!" He barked, gripping my waist and shoving me onto the counter where brushes were drying. I dove forward to make my break, but he caught my wrists, pulling them down to my sides and effectively trapping me between his arms. "Damn it, Jennifer! Just stay still for one damn second!" My eyes were stinging with hot tears, as they trailed down his heaving figure.

His hair was mussed, his eyes dark and his nose fanning in his anger, breathing fire. Further down, his dress shirt was wrinkled, stained with a mix of paint and blood. Oh God. I was covering him in my blood as I kicked him.

Without another word, my shoulders sank in defeat. I was acting like a lunatic. What the hell was wrong with me?

Seeing me pacify, he let out a sigh, running his hand through his hair. He stepped back enough to gently guide my leg higher for a better view. His eyes scanned my wounds meticulously, running his thumb over the one that appeared the deepest to get a good look through the blood.

"Please, stay." He muttered, disappearing back into the supply closet. I didn't move, but did wiggle a few wet brushes from underneath me. I heard him searching through cupboards, and he returned seconds later with a first aid kit and wet rag.

"I'm sorry about your shirt." I mumbled. But he kept on as if he never heard me. Hell, maybe he didn't. It was easier to believe that than that he was ignoring me.

"I'm going to remove your shoes." He stated plainly. Damn it. I liked him better when he was shouting at me. Instead, he was acting void of emotion. As if he didn't feel at all. It was awful.

He undid the straps to my sandals, setting them on the counter beside me. Then, the cool rag was pressed to my skin.

"Tell me if you feel glass anywhere." He was patting instead of wiping, which was a slower but safer practice. After making his way around both legs, he looked up at me. "Anything?" I shook my head no. Aside from the pain of the wounds themselves, I felt no stinging or poking. I probably kicked off all the glass when he carried me over here.

"Okay. I'm going to have to clean them. How do you do with pain?" I couldn't help but laugh at the irony, but it was a short and breathy laugh.

"Emotional or physical?" He shook his head, fighting a smile of his own.

"I think emotional leads to physical with you." I giggled. It was totally inappropriate, but at that point, neither of us were in our right minds. He twisted the cap off the plastic bottle of alcohol, holding it over my left leg first.

"You're just going to pour it?" I asked in a panic, flinching away instinctively.

"Yea. It'll hurt like a bitch, but it it'll be over the quickest." I scrunched my nose at him, making him smile. "Do you want to squeeze my hand?" He held up his left, a peace offering. I accepted bravely. I felt like a kid getting a shot in a doctor's office, but I didn't care much.

He was right. It hurt like a bitch.

More tears came out, but these were for a much different reason. I could feel the sting in my bones. My entire leg went numb because of it!

"Son of a bitch, fucking, damn it all to hell…" My other hand also shot over to release its aggression on his forearm, making him wince.

"Okay, baby. All done. Let me bandage it." I sniffled, nodding and holding out my trembling leg for him to wrap. He moved quick, which I was thankful for, and he was right. The pain didn't last too long. Unfortunately, I looked like a mummy from the knees down.

Once it was all done, he placed a tender kiss on the gauze, before crossing to the sink to wash the blood off his hands. Then, his fingers worked nimbly to undo the buttons to his shirt.

"Joel."

"It's okay, I keep a spare." He assured me, but I shook my head.

"Come here, please." He cocked his head, but listened. When he was in front of me, I reached out, spinning him around.

Oh my God.

A dark bruise had already formed where I bit him and my nails left indents in his skin.

"Joel, I'm so sorry." I gushed, lifting my hand to gently stroke his battle scars. I hurt him. He was trying to help me, and I hurt him. I don't think I had ever felt more ashamed.

"No, I deserved it. What I said was fucked up. And I shouldn't have grabbed you like that." He turned back to face me, his eyes soft and pleading. My hands cupped his face, pulling him to stand between my legs.

"No. I went bat shit crazy, Joel. You can admit it. I just didn't want to accept the truth." He cocked his head.

"What truth?"

"Exactly what you said. You won't call me your girlfriend. I'm nothing to you, and it hurts. But that's no reason to freak out like that." He furrowed his brows, resting his warm hands atop my thighs.

"You aren't nothing to me, Jennifer. I care about you." I sighed, looking back down at where his hands rested. Cared about me? That was so vague. It held no actual commitment.

"You aren't ready to commit to me." I voiced aloud. It wasn't a question, but a statement, and he took it as such.

"I don't think so. But it has nothing to do with you. I meant what I said. I like you. I care about you. I'm just… I don't know. Scared? I haven't dated in almost seven years. I was with Callie for a decade. I'm lost here." At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to hold him. How could I be so selfish? He was left by the woman he promised forever to only six months ago. Of course it was hard for him.

"What are you afraid of, specifically?"

"I don't know. Not being enough? You leaving me for someone better?" I snorted at his last point.

"That wouldn't happen."

"Jennifer. I'm seven years older than you. There are men closer to your age who would come with a whole lot less baggage. No bitchy ex-wives. No shouting matches. No insecurity. No secrecy. You could have a normal relationship."

"I don't need a normal relationship, Joel. I've had one, and I was miserable. I don't care about any of your baggage. I don't even care that you can't have children. I just want to give us a shot." His countenance fell, and I could see him shutting down again. "Hey. I don't need an answer right now. But, um…" Ugh, I didn't want to say this, even though I knew I needed to. "I think we should hold off on having sex until you've decided." His eyes shot to me in surprise.

"What?" I winced.

"I just don't think its healthy for us to have a sexual relationship without any commitment. I mean, do you really want to have a non-exclusive relationship with me?" His eyes darkened and I knew he saw my point. Technically, I could fuck around with anyone right now. He had no actual claim on me. And he could do the same. It wasn't right, and I would rather not be some twisted friends with benefits with him. He deserved more than that.

"Okay. You're right. That's not exactly a healthy relationship…" He admitted. "But it's going to be hard, you know. After having a taste of you, I crave you. Constantly. You're like a fucking drug to me." Holy shit. He felt that way, too?

"I know. But it'll be good for us." I was trying to convince myself more than him of that fact. It was going to be hell, and I knew it. "But one more kiss wouldn't hurt." I added, feeling the strong urge to taste him. He smiled sweetly, showing off his white teeth, as he leaned in slowly.

Pink, yellow, warmth; All the colors and feelings that brought me comfort as his lips brushed softly over mine.

What had I gotten myself into? How could I be around this man and not pounce? I was his puppet, a marionette on invisible strings that found it's way back beneath him.

But this was the right way to do it. We needed to know eachother. We needed to understand eachother. And that couldn't come from sex alone.

I could feel him holding back, his tongue trying desperately not to move forward into my mouth. But like a wild animal, I spread my lips, eager for a taste. My tongue traced his bottom lip, making him shiver.

"But you said…" He groaned, finding my lips again. His hands climbed my thighs, finding my hips and scooting me towards him. Snaking my arms around his neck, I let out a small moan, one barely detectable but enough to drive him wild.

His tongue jutted out, exploring my mouth with reckless abandon. It was feverish, needy, as if the forbidden nature of our kiss made it that much more potent.

But before it could get too far, the loud buzzing of my cell phone on my table interrupted. Damn it.

The spell broke, along with our heated kiss. He glanced down at me, his chest still heaving, before turning to retrieve my phone.

"Just stay there. I don't want you to walk barefoot." He made a point. My sandals were in desperate need of a cleaning and I didn't feel like trecking the room shoeless.

He circled the table, snatching it from the stained wood and opening it to see who was calling. His brow immediately furrowed, his eyes darting to me in frustration as he went to answer. Who the hell-?

"Yes, June?" Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

"Joel, bring it here!" I whisper shouted, but he crossed one arm over his chest, turning to face away from me. That bastard!

"Yes, this is Professor Becker. Miss Matthews dropped a glass vase after class and hurt herself, so she couldn't retrieve her phone. What do you need?" He shifted to his other foot, obviously tense and annoyed as hell. "Thank you for checking on her, but I assure you, she is well taken care of. Perhaps she will contact you later. Goodbye." Then, without waiting for a response, he hung up.

"Joel! How could you be so rude?" I was appalled. June was just trying to be kind and check on me. Also, what right did he have answering my phone call in the first place?

"I wasn't being rude. I told him the truth." He shrugged, placing my phone in my satchel. At least he wasn't searching through my texts like a psychopath.

"You know, for someone who was just talking about how someone like June would be perfect for me, you sure are doing your damndest to prevent it." I knew it was harsh, but his attitude was starting to really piss me off. How did he expect to have me but not at the same time? It was bullshit!

He laughed sardonically, crossing back to me.

"Don't get me wrong, baby. I'm not going to sit back and watch you fuck around with other men." He really wasn't joking. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too.

"Well then I expect the same from you!"

He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You are the second person I've slept with in a decade, Jennifer. I think I'll survive."

"You're the second person I've slept with ever, so I can as well." His brows shot up, clearly surprised by my confession.

"Seriously? When was the last?" Really? He was asking me this now?

"Freshman year." My shitty ex boyfriend. "He was a frat boy, but don't worry. He graduated last year. We only dated for six months." His expression softened, and he took my hand in his.

"I'm not worried. Clearly you had never been satisfied before me, so he couldn't have been that great." There he went again, with that cocky grin. But it just made me smile. Because he was right.

"You're not making this easy."

"I never said I would, baby. Like I said, you're my drug. And I'm hooked."