(Now) Kinsley: Say What You Need to Say

I couldn't quite get the main storyline post finished up in time, so here is Kinsley for your Wednesday.  Main storyline post will be up on Friday!  There is one more Kinsley post after this, which I will probably post early next week so we can do a Lauren post next Friday.
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"It's not what it looks like," I insisted.  Ah,  yes...the tried and true line that never seems to work.

Damien was still standing 10 feet from my front door, frozen in place and staring at me.  "Well that's good," he said, a touch of hostility in his voice. "Because it looks like you left my house and called another man to come over."

"Please, Damien," I pleaded desperately.  "I know.  Nothing happened.  Just...will you come in?"

He stood there silently for several more seconds before finally moving towards me.  I breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that if I could at least get him inside, I could explain everything away.  I had gone through too damn much in the last few weeks to lose him again over a misunderstanding.  He walked past me in the doorway, not even looking at me.  This was the first time I had seen him not perfectly calm and in control, and it made me a little nervous because I had no idea how this was going to go.

I pushed the door shut and locked it and then trailed him into the living room.  "Do you want to sit?" I asked him.

"No, I want to know who that was and why he was here," he replied evenly.  I still hadn't gotten a good look at his face.

I sat down heavily on the couch and took a deep breath.  "His name is Cole.  He's a friend, he used to work with me.  And he was here because I needed to talk to someone."

"You needed to talk to a guy?  At your house?  At 11:00 on a Friday night?  After we argued?"

"I didn't have anyone else to call," I said miserably.  "He happened to be in the area and stopped over after he finished dinner with a friend.  It was stupid.  I...don't know.  I'm sorry."

"Jesus, Kinsley," he muttered.  He finally sat, and finally looked at me.  I couldn't even make sense of all the emotions I saw on his face.  As much as I hated his usual perma-calm, I didn't like this much either.  It made me uneasy, because it was different.

"I don't even know why I'm asking this, because I have a feeling I don't really want to know the answer, but have you ever slept with him?"

I looked down and nodded.  I couldn't even look at him when I confirmed his fear.

"Recently?"  I nodded again, knowing that we both knew that the only possible explanation for "recently" meant while were broken up.   "So, you left my house to calm down, came here, and invited the guy over that you'd slept with while we were broken up...and what?  Told him all the dirty details of our relationship?"

"That's a pretty accurate cliff's note version," I admitted, still not able to meet his eyes.  I tried to decide if it would make it better or worse to clarify that he wasn't the guy that I'd slept with while we were broken up.  Maybe it would make him less special.  Then again, he probably didn't want to hear that there were 4 guys I'd slept with while we were broken up.  And then there was the fact that he was the guy I'd slept with repeatedly and would be still be sleeping with if Damien and I hadn't gotten back together.  Okay, mouth shut.  God, I was an idiot.

"Jesus, Kinsley," he said again.

"But nothing else happened," I said, finally looking up at him.

He smiled wryly.  "For some reason, I do actually believe that.  I've never not trusted you when it comes to other men.  But I don't understand why it's so hard for you to tell me what you need."

"I did tell you what I needed," I insisted.  "I needed some space to cool down.  That wasn't a lie!  That's what I needed from you tonight."  Yet here you are, I thought bitterly.  "You couldn't give me what I needed from him, which was a second opinion on if I was being unreasonable.  And, you might like to know, he thought that I was being unreasonable.  He's actually pretty firmly on your side.  You might want to make friends with him, because he seems to think fairly highly of you."

Damien seemed to have gotten a grip, and his calm mask was back.  He rubbed his hand over his short hair and stifled a yawn.  "I don't know what to say," he said finally.  "I'm not happy, but I kind of understand why you did it.  And honestly, I'm glad that you talked to someone, instead of just shutting down and going with what I want.  But I'm still getting used to this, because it's really different than how things were before, and I have a problem with you inviting guys over in the middle of the night when you're pissed at me."

"That was a stupid thing that I shouldn't have done," I agreed.  "I'm sorry.  I'm still trying to figure out how to navigate this.  Half of what I thought I learned about how to function in a relationship was wrong, and I'm trying to work out how to do it right.  I'm probably going to fuck it up again, too."

We both sat silently for what seemed like forever.  Finally, Damien spoke.  "I was coming over to apologize.  I know you said you needed some space, but I just really needed to apologize.  And you weren't answering your phone.  I'm sorry I came, because I should have respected what you asked for."

"Oh," I replied.  It was late.  I was tired.  I didn't want to do this right now.

"And I should have told my family the truth," he admitted.  "It wouldn't have helped our cause any, but at least it would have been honest."

"They're going to hate me," I said, getting sucked into the conversation despite myself.

"No," Damien said.  "They're not going to hate you.  It just might take awhile for me to fix it.  But I will."

"Why?" I asked.  "Why are you going to fix it?  Do you really want me in your life badly enough to work that hard to get me back in favor with your family?  Your family that I don't want to spend every waking moment with and never will?  Is anything going to change anyway?  Why are we even doing this again?"  Maybe it was the late hour.  Maybe it was my frustration with the long evening of fighting, being vulnerable, explaining myself.  But I suddenly felt like the whole thing was hopeless and pointless and I just wanted to be alone.  And maybe the only way I could be alone was to lash out and piss him off enough that he would leave.

Damien looked up sharply.  "What are you doing, Kinsley?" he asked warily.

"We've been tiptoeing around this and each other for the last two weeks," I exploded.  "Well, you've been tiptoeing, and I've been avoiding it and demanding everything I want.  I don't want that!  It's like things are completely backwards from what they were, and that's still not right.  I don't like this.  I don't want it.  I just want...I just want..." I stopped.  What did I want?  Why was that such a hard question to answer?  I wanted it to be easy.  I wanted us both to be honest and open with each other.  I wanted to not feel like his family hated me because they thought I'd just up and stopped coming to things with them.  It was too late for all of that.

Damien watched me, and he didn't speak.  "I want to be with you, but I don't want to be with you like this," I said, finishing my thought the best that I could right now.  "I can't do this anymore tonight.  I don't care if you stay here or go home, but I need to sleep before I can finish this conversation."  This conversation that we should have had two weeks ago, but hadn't.  We'd avoided it, choosing instead to bask in the glow of our newly-back-togetherness.  Avoiding it had brought us here, to a fight that should never have happened, a stupid move by me, and another fight that shouldn't have happened.  I wasn't willing to have any more fights that should have been avoided by continuing this conversation.

"Okay," Damien agreed, surprising me.  "You're right, we're not going to get anywhere tonight.  It's late, I'm exhausted.  Can I stay?  I'll sleep in the guest room, if you want."  I nodded and went upstairs, checking to make sure the guest room had what he needed.  I didn't want him in my bed right now, because I knew it would be too easy to get up and avoid what happened if we spent the night together.

I didn't sleep well, though I didn't think I would.  Several times during the night I considered getting up and crawling into the guest bed with Damien.  It would have been so much easier to pretend none of this had happened, but that's what got us into this mess in the first place, and I was determined to get out, one way or the other.

I finally drifted off to sleep around 5 am.  When I woke up, I smelled bacon.  I groaned and rolled over, digging in the blankets for my phone.  I finally found it, and clicked the screen on.  It was 10:30.  I had a text from Cole that said, "Hope he wasn't too pissed.  Let me know if I can help."  How he thought he could help that situation was a mystery, but I appreciated the thought.  I think.  I deleted it though, because it seemed like a good idea.

I rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, then stumbled into my bathroom.  I yanked a comb through my disastrous hair and forced it into a ponytail, then brushed my teeth.  I looked fucking awful.  I was pale and the dark circles under my eyes could have used Liv's expert touch with a concealer brush.  Oh well.

I made my way downstairs, and apprehensively approached the kitchen.  "Hi," Damien said, smiling tiredly at me.  I'm ashamed to admit that I felt a tiny bit of satisfaction that he hadn't slept either.  "I hope you don't mind, I ran out to get some stuff for breakfast.  I thought we might need it."

"Thanks," I said softly.

"Coffee?" he asked, motioning to the pot on the counter.  I wrinkled my nose and shook my head, and instead took a Mountain Dew out of the fridge.  I hated coffee in the summer unless it was iced.  In the winter, I loved a good cup of disgusting black coffee, but not when it was hot outside.  He shrugged and poured himself another cup.  I got out a couple plates and some silverware, and we sat and quietly ate our breakfast together.  It was kind of awkward, but I didn't imagine the rest of today would get much better.

I washed the dishes right away when we were done, procrastinating just a little bit longer.  Then Damien poured himself the last cup of coffee, I grabbed a second Mountain Dew, and we both sat down on the couch.  I curled up in the corner, angling my body just enough towards him so that I could see him.  "Ladies first," Damien said.

I took a deep breath and said, "We jumped in too fast.  We didn't talk about all the things that happened that made us break up in the first place, and it came back to bite us.  We need to talk about those things."

"I agree," Damien replied.  "Say what you need to say."

So I did.  And he did.  We sat in my living room and we talked for three long hours.  I raised my voice, I cried, I said "fuck" too many times for it to qualify as an adult conversation, I paced, he paced, and he even said "fuck" once and "bullshit" twice, which should give you an idea of how intense the conversation was.  By the end of the three hours, I was laying on the floor and he was sprawled across my recliner, and we were clearly exhausted.

Despite how draining the conversation had been, I felt so much better than I had.  The feeling of vague unease that had tainted all our interactions for the past two weeks was gone.   We'd talked through everything that had contributed to our breakup.  We'd talked through issues we hadn't even realized were issues until the very moment we talked about them.  We both shared real, actual feelings--something neither of us were particularly good at.  We talked about setting boundaries with his family, and even came up with a plan that we both felt good about.  Finally, for the first time in over six weeks, everything felt right again.

"Damien?" I asked tentatively from my spot on the floor, stretched out in the sun like a cat.

"Yeah?"

"We're going to be okay."  It was a statement, not a question.

"We are now," he agreed.  He stood up and stretched, then sat on the floor with his back against the chair.  I shifted so I could put my head in his lap, and then I reached up and pulled the hair tie out of my hair.  Damien's hand immediately went to my head, rubbing my scalp and smoothing my hair out of my face.  It was so calming, and I shut my eyes.  "We should have had this conversation two weeks ago, but better late than never."  I nodded.

I laid there silently, enjoying Damien's fingers on my scalp and the relief I felt now that we'd finally had this conversation and it was over.  Finally, I said, "I'm starving, but I also desperately need a nap.  I don't know what to do first."

Damien laughed.  "We could order food, and then take a nap while we wait for it to be delivered," he suggested.

"That's the best idea ever," I said excitedly, sitting up.  I yawned and rubbed furiously at my eyes, which were heavy and felt like someone had tacked sandpaper onto the insides of my eyelids.  After a brief discussion about what to eat, we ordered pizza.  It was almost 2:30, and I hoped it would be here soon.  In the meantime, we moved our party of two up to the couch and I curled against his chest, content in a way I hadn't been in a month and a half.

"I feel like I'm going to have to peel you off of me on Monday to go to work," he joked.

"Fine, I'll move," I huffed, starting to sit up.

His arm snaked around me and pulled me back against him.  "I'm just teasing you," he said.  "I like it.  It's a nice change."  One of his hands rested on my shoulder, and he stroked the side of my neck and my jaw with his thumb.  I didn't think I would actually fall asleep while we waited for the pizza, but the next thing I knew, I was waking up to Damien gently shifting me off of him to go get the door.

We ate our pizza and then I put the rest in the fridge.  "Nap?" I asked yawning.  "This time you can sleep with me."

Damien laughed.  "I'd love to."

We went upstairs and climbed into my bed.  I rolled onto my side and Damien settled himself against me, wrapping his arm tightly around me from behind.  I settled against him and easily fell back to sleep.