Kinsley: I Miss You

Hi everyone!  I hope you enjoyed last week's and this weekend's bonus posts.  If you missed them, be sure you go back and check them out.  This week will be back to business as usual, with two posts--one from Kinsley and one from Lauren.  This is the Kinsley post, and Lauren's will be up later this week.  I appreciate you guys being cool with my less-than-consistent schedule.  I'd love to always have posts up at a certain time on certain days but that just doesn't work for my life right now.  

I also wanted to update you on one of my other projects.  I promised a new blog, and I finally have the layout all set up for it!  I still need some work on the actual content, but I'm actively working on it.  I had originally thought I'd launch around the new year, but I'm guessing it will probably be closer to February.  I have a lot planned for Lauren and Kinsley, and I don't want to cut them off or be juggling two blogs unless I have a really significant number of posts created.  I'm really excited about the new story, though, and I'm having a hard time waiting to share it with you!  My semester is over in a couple weeks (holy cow) and I anticipate I'll have more time to write then, which I'm definitely looking forward to.
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Damien drove straight to his house, because it was closer.  Neither of us spoke.  We walked inside silently and I went straight to his kitchen for a glass of water.  I needed something to do with my hands.  I got two glasses and filled them with water, then brought them back into the living room where Damien was pacing absently around.  He looked like me when I'm upset.

I watched him pace and realized that I didn't like seeing him worked up.  I've always complained about his unflappability, but this was unnerving.  "I'm really sorry," I said miserably.

"You're what?" he asked sharply, stopping dead in his tracks.

I flinched at his tone.  "I'm sorry," I repeated softly.

He walked over to the couch and sat down next to me.  "Why are you sorry?" he asked incredulously.  His voice was quieter and he stroked the back of my hand lightly before pulling away to give me some space, which I welcomed.

"That was a giant disaster, and it was my fault because I can't just act like an adult."

Damien shook his head.  "You don't have to apologize to me.  You weren't wrong, so you don't have to apologize to anyone, but definitely not to me."

"But you're so angry," I pointed out.

His eyes got wide and his face softened immediately.  "I'm not angry at you, Kinsley."

"Oh," I said, relieving by the hard edges of his face melting back to what I knew.  "I just...I don't know, I've never seen you so agitated."

Damien sighed and rubbed his hand over his short hair.  "I was livid when your father grabbed you.  That's honestly probably the closest I've ever been to knocking someone out.  It's just taking me a little while to settle down.  I'm sorry if you thought I was angry at you."

I shrugged.  "I didn't know what to think, I've never seen you so worked up."

"I don't get this worked up very often," he agreed.

"Do you want to go for a walk, or a run, or something?" I suggested.  I couldn't just sit here and stew.  We decided to go for a quick run to blow off some steam.  I grabbed my gym bag from my car and surveyed what I had.  A good sports bra, two pairs of leggings, and a tank top.  I frowned.  Not exactly cold-weather running gear.

Damien dug out a long sleeved shirt for me to wear.  When he came back over to me with it in his hands, I was standing in the middle of his room in my sports bra, pulling my hair back into a ponytail.  His eyes fell to my arm and his jaw clenched tightly.  I followed his gaze down to my inner arm and saw the bruises darkening there.  I waited for him to say something, but he just handed me the shirt and went back to changing.

Damien's obvious anger made me uneasy.  Not because I was scared or uncomfortable being around him when he was angry, or that I thought he'd do something stupid, but just because it was so out of character for him.  I don't like things that don't happen how I expect them to.  I hoped that the run would help him feel better.

I had a hard time keeping up with him at first, but he quickly realized he was pushing me too hard and slowed to a more manageable pace.  "If you want to go ahead, you can," I told him.  "I'll be okay."

"No, this is good," he replied.  We continued in silence, our foot falls one of the only sounds on the dark, deserted, snow covered path near my house.  Everyone else was inside, enjoying their turkey comas and pumpkin pie.

We ran for...I don't even know how long.  Until my legs couldn't do it anymore, and I slowed to a walk.  Damien stopped just a couple steps later, and silently we turned around.  We walked back, and it took a really long time.  By the time we got back, I felt 10 times better.

Standing in my room, I stripped off Damien's long sleeved shirt, which was now drenched in sweat, and tossed it into my laundry basket.  "I'll wash it," I promised him.

"That's fine," he replied, shrugging.  "Can I see your arm?"

Reluctantly, I held it away from my body.  The bruises had darkened into distinctive finger marks.  He held my arm gently above the elbow and frowned.  "You could file a police report," he said calmly.

"No," I replied immediately.

Damien raised an eyebrow.  "Kinsley, your father assaulted you."

"So?"

"So, he shouldn't be able to get away with it."

I shook my head.  "No, but I'm just done, Damien.  If I file a police report, I have to deal with whatever the aftermath is.  If I just ignore it, I can finally truly be done.  No one would blame me from cutting off contact with him."

"But--"

"No!" I snapped, feeling my calm from our run quickly fading.  "I'm not doing it, Damien.  And you can't talk me into it, so just stop."

"Okay," he said softly.  "I didn't mean to push.  I just want you to know that he can't do that shit."

I nodded, but then something occurred to me.  "Fuck!" I exclaimed, pushing my hands into my hair.

Damien raised his eyebrows.  "What?"

"I so busy being pissed off that I didn't even ask my brother for his phone number, or email address, or something!" I started pacing.  I was angry at myself.  This had been my only contact with my brother--who practically raised me for the first 10 years of my life--in 17 years, and I couldn't even get my shit together enough to get a way to contact him?  "Damn it!"

"Kinsley," Damien said, breaking into my thoughts.  "I have his number."

I stopped, spinning to face him.  "You have his number?  How?" I demanded.

"He gave it to me before he went out to try to talk to you."

"Why?  Why the hell would he give it you?"  I started pacing again.

Damien's eyes followed me.  "He wanted you to be able to get a hold of him if you decided you wanted to, and he was worried that you wouldn't take it from him.  He had a feeling you were going to be angry at him and wouldn't want to talk to him.  He gave it to me so if you decided later that you wanted to talk to him or see him again, I could give it to you."

I laughed bitterly.  "17 years.  Gone almost two-thirds of my life...and he still knows me better than I know me.  That motherfucker."

"Do you want it?  Or should I just hold onto it for awhile longer?"

I considered this.  "Will you hold onto it for awhile longer?  I don't know if I'm ready."

"Of course," he replied.


It took a week before I decided that I wanted Kaleb's phone number.  Damien readily handed it over and offered to sit with me while I called, but I declined.  I needed to do this on my own.

It was another 3 days before I finally sat down and made the call.  I waited anxiously as the phone rang, and when his voicemail picked up I quickly hung up, sighing with disappointment and relief.  I jumped when my phone rang just seconds later, and I recognized the number I just dialed.  I hit the "answer" button on the screen and lifted my phone to my ear with a shaky arm.  "H-hello?" I stuttered.

"Kinsley?"  Kaleb's voice sounded surprised.  "I hoped...well...hi."

"Hi," I replied.

We were both silent for several seconds.  "I'm glad you called," Kaleb said finally.

"Me too," I said.  "Kaleb..."  I suddenly felt incredibly emotional.

"I know," he said softly.  I shut my eyes and took a deep breath.  "I miss you, Kinsley."

"I miss you too," I agreed.  "I hate you, and I love you, and I miss you."

He laughed.  "I love you too, kid.  Man, I am so happy you called."

I finally got myself together and said, "I have a question that I need you to answer before we just jump back into pretending to be people that know each other."

He chuckled.  "Ask me anything, Kins," he said.

"How did Dad get a hold of you?  Has he had your number all this time?  Where did you even come from?"  He didn't answer at first, and I continued.  "You know that at some point I'm going to ask you why you disappeared, but I'm not ready for that, so don't tell me that."

I heard him take a deep breath, and I imagined him making the face he always made when he was puzzled or trying to explain something really complicated to someone.  I wondered if he was going to try to make shit up.

Finally, he said, "I'm trying to figure out how to explain without telling you why I disappeared.  Well, the short version is this:  A guy I used to run with works at Dad's company.  Dad had tried to get a hold of me through him before.  With everything that was happening with Mom, Dad made a last ditch effort and just told the guy what was happening.  He called me and explained, and I called Dad.  Dad invited me for Thanksgiving, and Kins, I swear he didn't tell me you were going to be there.  I would have tried to make him warn you if I knew.  I wouldn't have wanted to surprise you."

"I didn't know you were going to be there either, obviously," I said.

"Obviously," he teased me gently.  We were both quiet for several seconds, then he said, "Look, you may not be open to this--and I respect that--but I'd really like to catch up with you.  Maybe when you're ready...if you're ever ready, that is...maybe we could hang out or something."  His words were halting and full of pauses, and I could tell he expected me to shut him down.

And honestly?  My initial reaction was to want to shut him down.  He'd left me when I needed him most, and he hadn't come back.  Well, until now, anyway.  But he had his own shit to deal with, and he never should have had to be there to take care of me in the first place.  Instead of shutting him down, I took a deep breath and thought for a second.  "It's okay if you don't want to," Kaleb said, reading my silence as rejection.  "I really do understand.  I just want you--"

"No," I interrupted him, before he could get too carried away on his reassurances.  "I think...I'd like that."

"Yeah?" Kaleb asked.

"Yeah," I confirmed.  Then I laughed.  "This is really weird, isn't it?"

"It is," he agreed.  "But Kinsley?  I'm glad.  And I already said it, but I miss you."

"I miss you too," I replied, even though he was right and we'd already been through this.  But it didn't matter.  All that mattered is that he knew that I really did miss him.

Liv: Thanksgiving

"Something smells good," Brody said, coming into the kitchen.  He'd been holed up in his office trying to take care of a poorly-timed emergency of some sort before the holiday tomorrow.  "I'm starving."

"Unfortunately, this isn't dinner," I said with an apologetic smile.  "I'm just getting some stuff ready for tomorrow."  Tomorrow was Thanksgiving, and we were hosting.  Brody's mom and her boyfriend Tim were coming, along with Ken, Brody's employee Pete and his wife Serena, and Jen.  This was my first time ever hosting a holiday meal, and I was a little nervous.  I wanted to get at least a few things made ahead of time so I wouldn't have to be quite as stressed tomorrow.  It wasn't going to be a huge gathering by any means, but I was sure I'd have plenty to manage.

Brody pulled open the fridge and I said, "There's still some lasagna from the other night if you want to heat that up."

"I do," he replied.  "Do you want some?"

"Sure."  Brody pulled out the lasagna and I checked my sweet potato casserole that was in the oven.  While Brody heated up the leftover lasagna and garlic bread, I threw together a salad.  Eddie hung out in the corner of the kitchen, watching us carefully just in case we dropped something.  I pulled the sweet potatoes out of the oven while Brody got plates and silverware, and I stirred my cranberry pear sauce that was simmering on the stove before I went to sit with him.

"I'm an asshole," Brody said suddenly.  "I completely forgot to ask you how your meeting went."  He looked up at me expectantly.

I'd had my meeting this morning with the school that was interested in contracting with my agency for a school-based therapist.  We'd had a little trouble coordinating schedules and today was the best day, so I'd been waiting impatiently for a couple weeks.  I grinned and said, "It went really well.  They liked me a lot and wanted to talk start dates and plans already.  We ended up being there for almost two hours."

"I'm not surprised they liked you," Brody replied, return my excited grin.  "So what are they thinking for start dates?"

"They want me in the school right after Christmas break, attending meetings and such, and hopefully starting to take referrals around the beginning of February, if not sooner."

"That's awesome, Liv," Brody said.  He glanced at his watch.  "Shit, I need to get to the airport.  Do you want to come?"  Jen was flying in from Philadelphia and Brody was picking her up.  She was staying with us and I was excited to see her again.

"I can't," I replied, frowning and looking towards the stove.  "I've got the cranberry sauce on still and I want to make my pie crust tonight still."

"I had no idea I married Martha Stewart," Brody said, chuckling and standing up.  "Done?" He motioned to my plate, and when I nodded he grabbed it and took it to the sink.  "I'll help you clean up tonight, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed.

"Do you need me to pick anything up while I'm out?"  I shook my head and we kissed goodbye, then he took off for the airport.

I decided to make the mashed potatoes tonight too, and got to work peeling and chopping them.  After I had those done, I started on my pie crust.  I normally wasn't much of a baker, but I was bound and determined to make everything from scratch as much as possible.

The kitchen was everywhere and I was up to my elbows in in flour when I heard the garage door opening, signaling that Brody and Jen were here.  When the door to the house opened, Brody called, "Liv, can you come help Jen with her bag?  I need to grab something out of the car."

"I'm covered in flour," I called back.

"I can't hear you!" Brody yelled.  "Just come grab her bag and take her to her room, please!"

I sighed in mild irritation and grabbed a towel to wipe my hands off as much as possible.  I walked out of the kitchen towards the door and stopped dead.  "Oh my god," I said in shock.  "Mom!  Dad!  What...?"  Standing just inside the door next to Jen were my parents.  Brody came back in from the garage grinning as I rushed forward and hugged them.

Since I cry at everything, I got a little teary from the surprise.  "Well don't cry," my dad said, laughing.

I looked at Brody, who said, "It didn't seem right for us to host our first holiday together and not have your family here too, so I thought I'd surprise you."  My lip quivered and I threw my arms around him.  He hugged me back tightly.

"Thank you," I said softly.  "This is amazing."

"I thought you'd like it," he replied, leaning back to kiss my forehead.

I detached myself from Brody as Jen loudly cleared her throat.  She was grinning at me though, and I quickly hugged her.  "I'm so excited to see you too!" I told her, laughing now.

We got everyone settled and their things to their rooms, and I hurried back into the kitchen to finish my pie crust so I could be done prepping for the evening and spend some time with our guests.  "Can I help with anything?" my mom asked, following me into the kitchen.

"Absolutely not," I replied, smiling.  "But you can keep me company while I finish up."

Brody came into the kitchen with two bottles of wine.  He opened one and poured a glass for each of us.  "Can I help you?" he asked me after he'd rinsed out the empty wine bottle and deposited it in the recycling bin in the garage.

"If you wanted to start on the dishes, that would be great," I replied.

Jen and my dad wandered into the kitchen next and each also offered to help.  I refused their offers and they sat down at the table with my mom, and we all chatted while I finished up my pie crust and wrapped it in plastic wrap to rest in the fridge.  I helped Brody clean up the mess and we all moved to the living room, where we spent the rest of the evening.

I was brushing my hair in our bathroom, getting ready for bed, when Brody stuck his head in the open door.  I smiled at him in the mirror and came in, wrapping his arms around my waist.  "Thank you for getting my parents here," I said, leaning back against him.  "You're amazing."

"I'm glad you're happy," he replied.

I set my brush down and turned to face him, slipping my arms around his neck.  "I am," I said, pushing my fingers through the hair at the back of his head.  "I love you."

"I love you, too," Brody replied, before he leaned his head down to kiss me.  He lifted me easily onto the counter, bringing me up to eye level.  His fingers traveled up my back and into my hair, tugging it away from my face and neck.  He lowered his head to my neck, kissing and nibbling from my jaw down to my shoulder.  I sighed and wrapped my legs around his hips, pulling him even closer to me.

"I absolutely loved how excited and surprised you looked when you saw them," he said softly, taking a break from kissing my neck.  His fingers slid beneath the hem of my shirt and danced lightly across my lower back.  "I love surprising you."

"I love your surprises," I replied.  "But can we maybe not talk about my parents right now?"

Brody laughed, dropping his head onto my shoulder.  "Good call," he agreed.  "How about we talk about what I'd like to do to you right now instead?"

"Mmm, I like the sound of that much better," I murmured.  Brody's lips were on my neck again, tracing the same path they'd taken before, but this time from my shoulder back up to my jaw.  He nipped at my earlobe before softly detailing everything he planned to do to me.  While he did that, he unhooked my bra and brushed his thumbs over my nipples, making me shiver.  Then he lifted me off the counter and took me out of the bathroom, setting me carefully on the bed.  We quickly pulled our clothes off, not wasting any time there.  Brody followed through on everything he'd said he'd do, and I found it ridiculously hard to stay relatively quiet.

When we were done, we laid tangled together diagonally across the bed, breathing hard.  "One of the reasons I never wanted to be in a relationship was I was worried about having boring sex...or not having any," Brody said randomly.  "I'm glad that hasn't happened."

"Yet," I corrected him, teasingly.  "It hasn't happened yet."  Brody laughed and we untangled ourselves so we could actually get in bed.  I was relieved for the distraction, because thinking about tomorrow was stressing me out a little, and I felt a lot more relaxed now.  We got comfortable, and for once I fell asleep quickly.

I woke up fairly early the next morning.  Brody was still in bed, but he opened his eyes when I rolled over.  "Good morning, beautiful," he said sleepily.

"Good morning," I replied, smiling.  I had slept well, and even though it was early, I was in a better mood than most mornings.

"Don't get up yet," he requested.  "Come here."  I turned onto my side and scooted closer to him, settling my back against his chest.  We cuddled for about 15 minutes before I wiggled away and got out of bed, despite Brody's protests.

"I'm hungry," I complained, which made him laugh.

I was surprised to find that I was the only one awake so far.  Brody ended up coming down while I was making myself some coffee.  "Take your coffee and go relax," he urged me.  "Let me make breakfast."  He didn't have to work hard to talk me into it, and I happily went and turned on the fireplace and curled up in the recliner next to it with my coffee.

By the time Brody finished breakfast, everyone else was up.  After we ate, I kicked everyone out of the kitchen, including Brody.  I did some more prep work and rolled out my pie crust.  Once I had my pies in the oven I had a little time to relax.  I ended up going for a walk with my mom and Jen.  We wandered around the neighborhood in the snow that was falling.  Because of the snow and cold, we only walked about 20 minutes but it was nice to get a little fresh air.

I checked on my pies when we got home and then got in the shower.  I showered quickly and got dressed, then headed downstairs and got my pies out.  Brody came in while I was getting my turkey prepped.  "What can I do?" he asked.  I thrust a knife at him and asked him to prepare the fruit and cheese plate and get the veggies out.  He did as I asked without questions, and I loved him even more.  My dad wandered in while I was getting the turkey in the oven and asked if he could help.  I refused his offer, but he decided to help anyway.

While he was helping Brody, he asked, "So, how's business?"  I rolled my eyes, not surprised that my dad would go for business talk while prepping Thanksgiving dinner.

"Business is great," Brody replied cheerfully.  "I don't know if Liv's told you, but I just bought a second building.  So I've spent the last couple weeks getting it furnished, and we start moving on Monday.  I'm moving about half my staff over and then once that happens I'm going to create more specialized departments.  I'm pretty excited about it, actually."  Brody continued to explain to my how things worked now and what his vision was.

"That sounds much more efficient, good thinking," my dad said, nodding.  He asked Brody a couple more questions and I tuned out.  Once I got the turkey in the oven, I had a little more time to relax.  We had about an hour before the rest of the guests were arriving and I headed upstairs to do my hair and makeup.

Pete and his wife Serena were the first arrive.  They didn't want to travel this year and were planning on just spending a low-key day together.  Brody had invited them over for dinner, and they'd decided to join us.  Brody took what appeared to be some sort of dessert from Serena and headed toward the kitchen with it.

Eddie greeted them cheerfully, jumping up from where he had been napping in his bed near the fireplace.   "Hey buddy!" Pete said, scratching his ears.  Eddie wasted no time in flopping on the ground and rolling over so Pete could rub his belly.  "How's he doing?" he asked me.

"He's great," I replied with a smile.  "We love him, and he settled in pretty quickly.  I've been glad to have him a couple nights when Brody's gotten home late."

"Good," Pete said.  "We're glad he went to such a good home."

I was about to respond when the doorbell rang again, so I excused myself and went to answer the door, because I had no idea where Brody was.  Ken was at the door, and he handed me two bottles of wine.  "Brody told me you had the food under control but I didn't want to come empty handed," he said with a shrug.

"Well thank you," I replied, smiling and hugging him.  "You would have been fine, but I appreciate it anyway!"  I stepped aside so he could come in, and I was shutting the door when I saw Thalia's car pulling up in front.  I handed the wine back to Ken and asked him if he'd take it into the kitchen, then waited for Thalia and Tim.

Once everyone was inside, I went into the kitchen to grab the cheese and fruit plates.  Brody and Ken were standing in the kitchen, looking worried.  "What?" I asked.  Neither of them said anything.  "What?" I demanded again.

"Liv, there's...a problem," Brody started.  I gave him a look, and he hurriedly continued.  "Well, the oven seems to have stopped working."

"What?"

"I walked past it and it wasn't warm, so I opened it up and it was cold and the turkey is still very much uncooked."

I pursed my lips and walked over to the oven.  I opened the oven door and confirmed what Brody had said.  I pushed all the buttons and got no response.  "But..." I said, starting to feel a little panicky.  "But...what are we going to do?"

Brody shrugged.  After a quick, slightly heated discussion (because my perfectly planned Thanksgiving was collapsing around me), I finally said that I couldn't decide and told Brody to make a decision.  Brody made the logical decision to go into town to see if he could get a fully cooked turkey anywhere at this point.  "Are you okay?" he asked me with concern.

I shrugged miserably.  "There's nothing we can do about it."

Brody hugged me and said, "I know how hard you worked to make today perfect.  We'll figure it out.  Do you want to come with me?"

"No," I replied, shaking my head.  "I'll stay here and entertain our guests."

I forced a cheerful smile while I told our guests what happened.  It took Brody almost 90 minutes to return, and when he walked in the door with pizza boxes in his hands, I could have cried.  "I'm sorry," he said softly to me.  "It was all I could get."  Inexplicably, I began to laugh.  Brody looked at me like I was crazy, and maybe I was.  But I couldn't stop laughing.

We ended up eating everything I had successfully made along with the pizza.  It wasn't even close to ideal, and I was disappointed, but at least it was kind of funny.  Everything I had made turned out great, and while they didn't exactly go with the pizza, everyone ate them anyway.  We all also had a good laugh about everything.

In the end, it ended up being one of my favorite Thanksgivings.  It was so nice to have both my family and Brody's family there (especially since my parents were a surprise!).  After Pete, Serena, Thalia, Tim, and Ken left, Brody and I cleaned up.  Once we had everything cleaned up, I leaned against the counter and sighed, then chuckled.  Brody smirked.  "I guess we need a new oven," he said.

I laughed.  "I guess we do."

Alex: The Morning After

Ask and you shall receive!  Also, I'm working on a Liv bonus post too.  No promises, but I hope to get it up on Sunday for you guys.  I hope all my US readers had a wonderful Thanksgiving!
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"Does Lauren get a lot of headaches?" my mom asked curiously, once Lauren was upstairs.  "She didn't look well at all."

"She gets migraines every once in awhile," I replied.  And she might also sometimes fakes migraines to get out of things she doesn't want to do, I added bitterly in my head.  I immediately felt guilty for even thinking that she might be faking her headache, but I also knew she didn't like hanging out with my parents.

"Well, I hope that she can get some sleep and that she feels better in the morning.  It would be such a shame for her to not feel well on your last full day here."  My mom's irritation at us from the day before seemed to be gone and she sounded sincere.  I nodded and followed her into the living room where my dad was sitting.

The rest of our evening was really nice, actually.  It was good to catch up with my parents a little, and honestly I was a little relieved to not have to worry about Lauren being uncomfortable.

I went up to bed around 11, trying to slip quietly into our room so I didn't wake Lauren up.  I was surprised to find her still awake, and in a nasty mood to boot.  What followed was easily the worst argument we'd ever had, and in addition to being mad at the things she was saying, I was embarrassed that she was acting like such a brat at my parents' house.  Luckily, once I ended the conversation, it didn't take me long to fall asleep.

When I woke up, I wasn't angry anymore.  Instead, I felt anxious.  I knew Lauren would still be angry when she woke up.  I hated fighting with her, and fighting with her about my family was even worse.  I slipped carefully out of bed, hoping to avoid the inevitable conflict for as long as possible.

"Good morning, sweetheart," my mom greeted me warmly when I walked into the kitchen.  She poured me a cup of coffee and I yawned as I sat down at the kitchen table.

"Morning," I replied.  I gratefully accepted the coffee when she handed it to me.  She sat down and regarded me carefully.

"Weren't Henry and Carolyn just lovely?" she asked, after I had taken a sip of the coffee.  

"Yeah, they were nice," I agreed.  

"Carolyn is so beautiful," she said wistfully.  She looked at me expectantly, but I didn't reply.  "Don't you think?" she prodded.

"She's certainly not ugly," I said carefully.  

My mom smiled. "Lauren is pretty, of course, but she's a little plain."

"What?" I asked, surprised.  

"The blonde hair and brown eye thing is so overdone," my mom complained.  "Carolyn's beauty is unique."

"Lauren is gorgeous," I protested.  I had no idea what else to say.  

"And Carolyn is so smart," my mom continued, not paying any attention to me.  "A pediatric oncology nurse...can you imagine?"

"Lauren is an engineer," I said defensively.  I suddenly felt possessed to defend the hell out of Lauren.  I also got the terrible feeling that Lauren had been right last night.

"But does that really help people?" my mom asked disdainfully.

"Of course it does," I replied.  "She--"

"And Carolyn comes from such a nice, upstanding family," she interrupted.  "Henry is widowed, can you even believe it?  How terrible."

"Is there a problem with Lauren's family?" I asked, agitated.  

"Well, I mean, her parents were never even married," my mom said with distaste.  "It's just no wonder she's turned out the way she is."

"The way she is?" I parroted.  "You need to stop.  I love Lauren, and I don't appreciate this bullshit."

"Watch your mouth, Alexander," she cautioned me.  "Do you really want to marry someone that hasn't had a good marriage modeled for her?  That poor girl probably learned from her mother than she should be independent and make her own decisions without regard to what other people think.  She'll never be able to see you as an equal.  She's already a bit too bossy, don't you think?"

"No!" I exclaimed.  "I don't!  You're right though--Lauren is independent and doesn't care what other people think.  And I like that about her.  This is fucked.  I'm not going to sit and let you insult my girlfriend and her family.  I love her, and she's right upstairs, for fuck's sake."

My mom frowned.  "Don't you talk to me like that."  

"Then stop disrespecting Lauren."

"Look, Alex," my mom said, her voice suddenly kind again.  "I just want you to be happy."

"I am happy!" I snapped.  "I plan to spend the rest of my life with Lauren, whether you like it or not.  If you'd stop being so goddamned snobby for 5 seconds, you'd realize that Lauren is everything I've ever wanted.  But you don't give a shit about what I want; you just want me to marry someone that will make you look good!"

"You're so dramatic," my mom replied, rolling her eyes.  "Of course I want you to be happy, sweetheart.  But I think you'll be so much happier with someone like Carolyn, don't you?  Carolyn would never emasculate you."

"No!" I yell, standing up.  "I don't think I'll be so much happier with someone like Carolyn!  I'm happy, and I might have fucked it up by trusting you over her.  She knew exactly what you were doing.  I can't believe this.  And Lauren doesn't emasculate me...Jesus."

"You're being ridiculous," my mom said.  "Would you sit down?"

"What's going on?" my dad asked, appearing in the doorway.  

"Your son is being dramatic," my mom replied, standing to get him some coffee.

"Your wife is being a bitch," I say coolly.  

Both of my parents' heads snap towards me and my dad frowns angrily.  "Don't you talk about your mother like that," he said.

"I won't," I replied.  "I'm going to go upstairs, pack my shit, wake up my girlfriend, and leave.  I can't even look at you guys right now.  Stay the hell out of my way."  With that, I stormed upstairs.  I stopped outside the door to the guest room to collect myself before I woke Lauren up.  When I felt a little calmer, I quietly opened the door.

Lauren didn't stir, so I took a few minutes to pack my stuff up.  Then I looked over at her suitcase.  It looked like it had exploded, even though we'd only be here for 36 hours.  I carefully folded all her clothes and tucked them back into the suitcase, then went into the bathroom and gathered my stuff and the stuff I was sure was hers.

Finally, I sat carefully on the edge of the bed and stroked Lauren's hair.  She stirred but didn't wake up.  I carefully pushed a few stray pieces out of her face.  The brief smile that flitted across her lips gave me hope, but as soon as her eyes opened it went away.  I talked fast, hoping she'd at least hear what I had to say before she went off on me.

I gave her some space to get ready, and I could tell she was still mad.  My parents were nowhere to be seen as we walked down the stairs and outside, and I was relieved.  I wanted nothing to do with them right now, and I definitely didn't want to subject Lauren to them at this moment.

Lauren was silent the entire drive and all the way to our room.  Finally, when I couldn't stand the silence anymore, I said, "You're still angry."  I'm not a big enough idiot to ask her what was wrong or if she was okay.  I knew damn well that she was not okay and what was wrong.

Her calm, thoughtful response scares me.  As much as I hate how Lauren fights, I at least know what to expect and how to navigate it.  I have no idea what to do with this suddenly rational woman in front of me.  It's out of the ordinary and it makes me worry about our relationship for the first time since Logan's text popped up on her phone.  Even so, I quickly agree to give her the space she needs.  If this is a new thing she's trying out, I want to encourage it.

I leave the hotel and wander around downtown Savannah, looking for a place to get something to eat and some more coffee.  I finally found a place where I didn't feel like an idiot by myself.  It was hipster as hell, but they had some really amazing French toast and excellent coffee.  I took my time, trying to not play out possible conversations with Lauren in my head.  When I finished, I wandered around some more.  I went into a few random shops to procrastinate a little more and finally stopped at a little cafe where I grabbed some breakfast and coffee for Lauren.

Finally, I headed back towards the hotel, ready to try to fix this disaster.

Lauren: Inferior

I wake up to Alex gently pushing my hair out of my face.  I'm instantly annoyed, because I'm still mad.  I can't believe he has the nerve to wake me up.  I try to avoid how good his fingers feel on my scalp and glare up at him, quickly noticing that he looks sheepish.

"I know you're pissed at me," he says quickly.  "And I owe you a huge apology.  You were absolutely right last night.  I'm sorry."

I stay silent, processing this and wondering what caused his change of heart.  "I've been up for a little while, and I was talking to my mom," he explains, reading my mind.  "She couldn't stop comparing Carolyn to you, and telling me all the ways Carolyn is better than you in her eyes.  We just had it out, and I'm really sorry that I didn't hear you out last night.  I booked us a room for tonight at the hotel we were at, and we'll leave as soon as you're up.  I already packed up your stuff, but you might want to check the bathroom because I wasn't totally sure what was already here and what's yours.  All that stuff looks the same to me."

"Okay," I reply, still trying to wrap my brain around what's happening.  I just don't wake up quickly.

I struggle into a sitting position and swing my legs over the side of the bed, pausing to yawn and try to rub the sleep from my eyes.  I feel self-conscious changing in front of Alex since I'm still mad at him, so I pull some jeans and a shirt out of my suitcase and go into the bathroom.  I take my time getting dressed, brushing my teeth, and washing my face.  Even though Alex apologized and we're leaving, I'm still really confused and hurt at his flat out refusal to see my side of the issue last night.

I grab the last of my stuff from the bathroom and head back into the guest room.  I shove my stuff in my suitcase and zip it up, then stand it up.  Alex reaches for it but I say, "I've got it."  He frowns briefly, then nods, making the wise choice not to argue.  I follow him down the stairs and out the door.  His parents are nowhere to be found and he makes no attempt to find them to say goodbye.  I feel simultaneously vindicated and guilty.

I'm silent as I struggle to lift my suitcase into the trunk of the rental car.  "Do you want help?" Alex asks quietly.

"Yes, please," I say reluctantly.  I let go of the suitcase and leave it there for him to take care of, walking away so I don't have to watch him lift it into the truck.  I should probably consider working out every once in awhile.

We drive silently to the hotel and check in.  Luckily, our room is available already and we're able to go right to it instead of waiting until the 3pm check-in time.  When we get up to the room I decide to switch my jeans for sweatpants and climb into the bed.  I'm tired.  I didn't sleep well last night.

"You're still angry," Alex observes.

I consider ignoring him, but that's not going to get us anywhere.  "I'm not sure angry is the right word.  I'm feeling a lot of things.  I think we need to talk about it, but I need some time to sort everything out.  Can we talk in a little while?"  This is probably one of the most adult ways I've ever handled a conflict, and even Alex looks surprised by my calm tone.

"Absolutely," he replies immediately.  "How about you let me know when you're ready?"  I nodded.  "I'm going to go find some coffee and breakfast, then.  Can I bring you back something?"

"Sure," I reply.  "I mean, if you end up somewhere that has something I'd like.  You don't have to make a special trip or anything."

"Okay," he says, nodding.  He walks to the door of the hotel room and pauses, his hand on the knob.  He turns back and says, "Lauren?" I look up at him.  "I love you.  And I'm sorry."

"I know.  I love you too."  It comes out sounding a little flat, but I mean it.  I can tell he's pretty distraught by the situation and that's oddly a little comforting to me.  I don't want him to feel bad, but I do want him to know that he fucked up.  Because he did.

I manage to fall asleep for a little while, and I wake up when Alex quietly slips back into the room.  "Sorry," he says softly when I stir.

"It's fine," I reply, sitting up and yawning.  Alex sets a bag and a large plastic cup of iced coffee on the nightstand.  "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he says.  "I'm going to shower."  I nod and peek in the bag.  There's a heavenly-smelling breakfast sandwich plus a container of fruit salad.  I'm suddenly starving and I take out the sandwich and unwrap it.

I'm finished inhaling my breakfast by the time Alex emerges from the bathroom.  I haul myself out of bed and throw my garbage in the trash can, then sit cross-legged on the end of the bed.  "Can we talk now?" I ask Alex.  I'm nervous and I can't put my finger on why.  I wonder briefly if I'm overreacting or being dramatic, but I realize it doesn't matter.  My feelings are my feelings and Alex disrespected them last night.

"Yes," he replies immediately.  He sits in the desk chair and swivels it to face me, then waits.

"I was mad last night," I start hesitantly.  I'm not sure if I can accurately explain my feelings without getting worked up.  "I realize that I didn't approach the conversation well at all, and I'm sorry."  Apologizing is a little painful, but I know it's the right thing to do.

Alex nods and says, "You really caught me off guard.  I didn't respond well to you, and I'm sorry for that."

This is almost going too well, and it's making me even more nervous.  I twist a chunk of the sheet in my hands and look down before continuing.  "Your parents, especially your mom, have a really great way of making me feel inferior.  Your mom looks at me like I'm a piece of dead leaf that you tracked onto her perfect white carpet.  It seems like you just don't see it, and maybe I'm being dramatic, but I feel like shit around them.  I don't feel like that around many people, so I don't think it's just me."

I pause and look at him.  His face is neutral but his eyes look sad and worried.  He shrugs.  "You're right, I didn't see it.  I did think you were being dramatic until this morning.  And I don't know why I couldn't see it.  I didn't think my mom was capable of being so purposely awful to someone I love so much."

"What did she say?" I ask curiously.  "This morning, I mean."

Alex shakes his head and replies, "I'll tell you if you really want to know, but all it's going to do is upset you more, and I'd honestly prefer to not tell you."

"Okay, never mind," I say quickly.  I trust him and if he doesn't want to tell me, I know I don't want to know.  I take a deep breath and keep talking.  "I was really hurt with how you responded to me last night.  I know part of that is because I was hostile and attacking from the start, but you completely dismissed me and straight up told me you thought I was overreacting.  It was really confusing, especially with how quick you were to defend me the night before.  I've never really felt like you had my back with your parents, and it was nice that you stood up for me, even if it was just about where I slept.  But then..." I trail off and shrug.

Alex gets up and walks over to the bed, then sits next to me.  He tentatively reaches for my hand and I let him take it.  "Lauren, you're absolutely right.  I didn't have your back last night and it was shitty.  I was oblivious and I'm honestly surprised I didn't see what she was doing.  I was mad because I felt like you never gave my parents a chance.  They lived fairly close until they moved and you never wanted to go see them with me. That was hard for me.  My mom has always been a little stuck up, and I guess I was just used to it.  I don't think I realized how inferior you felt around them.  You never told me."

He has a point.  I haven't told him how I feel around his family.  I've told him how I feel about his family, but I've never really explained why.  Once again, my poor communication with him bites me in the ass.  Despite myself, a lump rises in my throat and I blink furiously.  I'm mad at myself for not communicating with him better, mad at his mom for being such a wretched snob, mad at myself for getting emotional right now, and relieved with how this conversation is going.

"I didn't," I reply.  "You're right.  That was stupid."  I drop my gaze again and pull on the sheet, furiously fighting the tears welling up in my eyes.

"Don't do that," Alex says suddenly, fiercely.  "My mom treated you like shit, and I'm not going to let you beat yourself up about any of this.  I wish you had told me, but you're telling me now and I'm grateful for that.  And even if you had told me, it wouldn't have changed what happened yesterday."  That's all it takes for my tears to spill over, and I suck in a shaky breath and try to keep myself from sobbing like an idiot.  Alex wraps his arms around me and I slump against him, pressing my face into his chest.  He strokes my hair as I try to get myself together.

Finally, I pull away and look up at him.  I wipe my face with my hands and say, "I was so mad at you last night.  I don't think I've ever been that mad at anyone before."

"I'm glad you're using the past tense," he replies with a small smile.  "I love you, Lauren."

"I love you too," I say, shutting my eyes as he cups his hand against my jaw.  I don't want to talk anymore and I let him guide my face towards his.  He kisses me softly, but I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him again, harder.

Alex kisses me for several seconds before he gently pulls away.  He pushes my hair behind my ear and says, "Are we okay?"  I nod, shutting my eyes and resting my face against his hand.  He shifts his hand, wrapping it around the back of my neck and leaning towards me again.  This time, he kisses me hungrily and I sigh in relief, tightening my arms around his neck.

Alex wraps his arms around me and lifts me onto his lap.  I straddle his legs and grip his shirt tightly as we kiss desperately.  I want to forget everything that's happened in the last 24 hours, and I finally start to let go of it as Alex moves his lips to my neck.  He pauses to pull off his shirt and mine, then he lays back, pulling me with him.  I stay on top of him and his hands run down my back, over my ass, down my legs, and back up to unhook my bra.

I roll to the side so I can shimmy out of my sweatpants, and he quickly removes his athletic shorts.  Alex rolls on top of me and pushes my legs apart.  He lowers his head between my legs and goes down on me until I come, then slides up my body and thrusts hard into me.  I cry out in pleasure and surprise at his quick entry, and he quiets me by pressing his lips against mine.  My legs wrap around his hips on their own and I grip his back tightly as he moves against me.

It doesn't take long for me to come again, and I squirm under him and moan against his shoulder.  It seems to set off his own orgasm, and I feel him tense, then shiver.  He groans and stops moving, breathing hard against my neck.  Neither of us move for a long time.  We just lay there, catching our breath and clutching each other.

Finally Alex rolls off of me, sprawling across the bed on his back.  I roll quickly onto my side, snuggling up against him.  He wraps one arm around my back and strokes my shoulder with his other hand, and I relax completely.  I'm starting to drift off when Alex says, "I hate fighting with you."

"I hate when you do something stupid enough to make me mad," I reply, my tone light.

Alex laughs and shakes his head.  "I know, I'm such a dick."

"You are," I agree, smiling.  I push myself up on my elbow and look down at him. "But I love you.  So stupidly much."

He grinned up at me.  "I love you too, Laur.  I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

I laughed, because it probably was.

Lauren: Thanksgiving

By the time we're on the plane to Savannah, I've forgotten about the shitty week I had at work.  Mostly because I hate flying with Alex.  He drives me crazy because he's far too laid back and I'm far too rigid, and our travel styles don't mesh at all.  I like to get to the airport with plenty of time to spare, he prefers to roll up to the gate as the flight is boarding.  I like to check in and pay baggage fees online ahead of time, he prefers to do it at the stupid little computer kiosks at the airport.  I'm ready to kill him by the time we're in our seats on the plane, and when he leans over me to look out the window, I snap.  "Can you please not touch me for 5 minutes?" I hiss.

He sits up and gives me a look.  He doesn't say anything, but he moves out of my space.  I turn my head and look out the window, sucking in a deep breath.  Once I calm down, I turn back to him and say, "I'm sorry.  I'm done acting like a bitch."

"Does flying make you nervous?" he asks curiously.

I frown and say, "No, why would you ask that?"

"You always get extra bitchy when you're nervous," he points out.

"I do?"

"You do," he confirms with a chuckle.

I consider this and realize he might be right.  "Well, maybe," I admit.  "I guess I didn't even really notice, I just know I get really cranky when I fly.  I'm sorry I was such a brat."

"I accept your apology," Alex replies.  We spend most of the flight in comfortable silence and I realize that I am a little nervous.  I almost wish he hadn't drawn my attention to it, because knowing I'm nervous makes me more nervous.

The flight is actually a really good one, and I'm excited to get to the hotel when we land.  This is our first real trip together (I'm just not counting going to Wisconsin and staying with my mom or going camping), and now that I'm off the plane that I didn't even realize scared me, I'm in a much better mood.

We take a cab to our hotel and check in, and I'm pretty impressed with the room.  I'm standing and looking out the window when Alex walks up behind me.  He slides his hands over my shoulders and squeezes gently.  "You're still so tense," he comments.

"Well, apparently I'm afraid of flying," I reply, laughing.  I turn around and face him, sliding my arms around his neck.  "Maybe you should help me relax."

"Are you propositioning me?" he asks, feigning shock.  "How inappropriate."

"You're the worst," I reply, rolling my eyes.  "Shut up and kiss me."  At least he can still follow directions, because he does kiss me, pressing me back against the cool glass of the window behind me.  When we separate to take off some clothing, he tugs me over until my back is against the wall next to the window.  Within minutes he's on his knees in front of me with one of my legs over his shoulder.  I push my hands into his hair, tugging and moaning when I come.

We have sex against the wall, then again in the big, comfortable bed.  After, we spend about 15 minutes on our phones, trying to figure out where we should go for dinner.  In the end, we decide to order to room service and be lazy.  I'm not mad about it.


Our "us time" in Savannah goes too quickly.  We don't get a chance to eat at all the restaurants I'd picked out (as if Alex would do any research or have any plan for what he wants to do).  We don't get to a lot of the things I thought would be cool, actually.  But we have a lot of fun.  We don't bicker at all, except in our normal playful way.  I actually relax a little and neither of us get irritated with the other, even when we get confused and maybe a little lost when we try to find Forsythe Park like the tourists we are.

We're having such a good time wandering around and exploring the city that Alex tells his parents we won't be to their house until after dinner time on Wednesday.  When we get there, they are clearly irritated.  Sharon, his mom, greets him stiffly.  "Hello, Alexander."  I have to work really hard to be conscious of what my face is doing, because the last thing I needed was to side-eye his mom and get caught.  "Lauren," she continues, glancing at me briefly before hugging Alex.

"Mom, no one's called me that since I was 7," Alex complains.  "Not even you."

"Alex?" His dad's voice carries from outside the foyer.

"Don't yell, David," Sharon scolds him when he makes his way into the foyer finally.

"Hello, son," David greets Alex, much more warmly than Sharon did.  "And Lauren, it's good to see you.  I'm so glad you guys made it down here.  Have you enjoyed the city?"

"Yes, very much," I answer politely.  "Thank you."

"Have you eaten?" Sharon asks.  "I can warm you up something.  We have--"

"We ate, Mom," Alex answers, cutting her off.  "Thank you.  Can we see the house?"

Sharon shows us around the house, which is very nice, in a Pottery Barn catalog sort of way.  I feel like I'll get a dirty look if I touch anything, much less sit on something.  So I keep my hands to myself and trail behind them, feeling seriously inferior already.  It certainly doesn't help when Sharon turns to me and says, "We unfortunately only have one guest room, but we set up an air mattress for you in the office, dear."

Alex jumps in before I can even collect myself and respond.  "Mom, Lauren isn't sleeping on an air mattress."

"Alright," she replies cooly.  "Then you can, and she can have your bed.  It doesn't matter to me."

I see Alex's jaw tick, and he says, "No one is sleeping on an air mattress.  Please don't be ridiculous."

"Oh, let the kids sleep together, Shar," Alex's dad calls from the bottom of the stairs.  "You're not preventing anything by shoving Lauren in the office on that god awful airbed."  I'm not sure if I should be horrified or thankful, so all I do is stand there.  Sharon shoots a very angry look down the stairs before finally shrugging and continuing the tour.

Luckily, we only have to deal with his parents for a couple hours before they go to bed.  As soon as their door closes, Alex looks at me.  "I'm really sorry," he says.  "She was in fine form tonight."

"It's fine," I reply, glancing at him and then away.

"It's not," he says, shaking his head.  "She was ridiculous.  Thank you for being so polite to them."  I shrug, uncomfortable with the conversation, and suggest we go to bed too.

When I wake up in the morning, Alex is already out of bed and I hear noise from the kitchen downstairs.  I'm getting dressed when Alex comes back into the room, freshly showered and dressed.  "Do you want to shower?" he asks me.

"No, I think I'll shower a little later in the morning if that's okay."

"Should be fine," he replies.  "My mom has all sorts of fun things for us to do today."  He grimaces as he says it, and I can hardly wait.

Sharon puts us to work cleaning the already immaculate dining room and helping her prepare some of the food.  She criticizes and corrects nearly everything either of us does, and I'm exhausted by the time I manage to sneak away for a shower.  When I come back downstairs, she's chatting happily away about the neighbor and his daughter and how lovely it is that they'll be joining us.  Barely 5 minutes later, a chime alerts us to the fact that someone's at the door.  "That must be Henry and Carolyn," Sharon says excitedly.  She heads for the door, almost forgetting for a second to walk at a composed, stately pace.

When I see her, I almost groan out loud.  Carolyn is tall with perfect hourglass curves and legs that are obscenely long.  Her auburn hair is smooth, shiny, and has just the right amount of wave to make it interesting.  Its color complements her piercing blue eyes really ridiculously well.  For some reason, when I heard "neighbor and his daughter" I imagined a kid, not someone roughly our age.

"Hi, it's so nice to meet you both," she says sweetly, shaking Alex's hand and then mine.  "Thanks for sharing your Thanksgiving with my dad and I."  Her voice has just a hint of a lilting southern accent.  It's lovely, and the perfect way to tie a pretty bow on a beautiful package.

"It's nice to meet you too," Alex says.  He subtly elbows me and I smile and murmur something similar.

Once we sit down at the table, Alex's mom focuses all her attention on Carolyn.  "So, Carolyn," she says brightly, "Your father tells us that you're a pediatric nurse?"

"Yes, I work in pediatric oncology," Carolyn answers with a polite and friendly smile.

"Oh, that must be so difficult," Sharon gushes.  "How do you do it?"

"It is, but it's also really rewarding.  I love working with the kids and doing anything I can to make their days a little brighter."

"Did you hear that?" Sharon asks, turning to Alex.  "What a lovely girl she is."  Carolyn smiles demurely and looks down at her plate.

The rest of dinner is basically 20 questions about Carolyn's achievements.  By the end of dinner I know that she had graduated summa cum laude from Auburn, was philanthropy chair of her sorority, is in the process of applying to graduate school to become a nurse practitioner, was captain of her high school's tennis team, and volunteers at the local animal shelter on the weekends.  I want to vomit.  Every time she reveals another tidbit displaying how perfectly perfect she is, Sharon turns to Alex and nudges him or makes a comment about how wonderful it is.

Sharon effectively pretends I don't exist throughout dinner, despite Alex, David, and Carolyn's attempts to include me in the conversation.  I am seething by the end of dinner, and raging mad by the time we've finished dessert and Carolyn and her dad excuse themselves and go home.  It's taking everything I have to keep my mouth shut.  Once they're gone, Alex looks at me and frowns.  "Are you okay?" he asks.  "You don't look so good."

I jump on it and say, "I actually really have a really terrible headache."

"Oh, you should go lie down for awhile," Sharon suggests, only too happy to get rid of me.

"Yeah," Alex agrees, though he looks concerned.  "That's not a bad idea."

I look at the clock and see it's already 8:30.  "I think I might just go to bed," I agree.  "Dinner was wonderful, thank you so much.  I hope to be feeling better in the morning."

"Oh, don't worry," Sharon says, her voice overly kind.  "Just get some rest.  We'll be fine just spending some time with our son."

I make my escape and get ready for bed.  I lay down, hoping I might fall asleep.  But laying in the dark with no distractions gives me too much time to think about what had happened tonight.  The more I think about it, the angrier I get.

By the time poor, unsuspecting Alex comes to bed, he's walking directly into the lion's den.  I'm more awake than I have been all day, and I'm so angry I don't know what to do with myself.  Not at Alex, of course, but at his mother.

"You're still up?" Alex asks.  "How's your head?"

"My head is fine," I say.  "How'd you like the lovely and talented Carolyn?"

"Um, she was nice," he replies, sounding confused.  "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious if you think she's as good of wife material as your mother does."

"Whoa, what?  What are you talking about?"

I snort.  "Your mom invited her here because she thinks she'd make a lovely wife for you."

"Are you jealous?" Alex asks, sounding surprised.

"Jealous?!" I hiss, furiously.  "No.  I'm fucking pissed off!"

"I don't understand, Lauren.  You're mad at me?"

I take a deep breath and say, "No.  You didn't do anything to upset me.  I'm angry at your mom, Alex.  She invited Carolyn here to try to tempt you away from me.  She wants you to meet a nice Southern girl, break up with me, move down here, and marry into a nice wealthy, upstanding family."

"Okay, so let's pretend for a minute that you're right about my mom's motivations," he replies.  "Do you really think I could be tempted away from you?  Jesus Christ, Lauren. I was in love with you for 8 years before we started dating.  A pretty girl at Thanksgiving dinner isn't going to ruin it."

"That's not the point," I snap.

"Then what is the point?  Because I guess I'm still not understanding."

"The point is that it was ridiculously disrespectful.  Your mom has absolutely no respect for me, and she demonstrated it tonight in front of an audience."

"I don't agree with that at all, and I think you're overreacting," he replies.

"You're going to take your mom's side over mine?" I ask, aghast and furious.  "Alex, you know your parents don't like me.  You yourself apologized last night for how she acted yesterday!"

"I'm not taking anyone's side, because there're no sides to take," he says, exasperated.  "And I'm starting to get upset that you keep basically saying that my mom is an underhanded, manipulative woman."

"Well, I'm getting upset that you're refusing to even consider that this was purposeful and disrespectful!"

"Please keep your voice down," Alex scolds me.

"Are you for real right now?" I ask.

"Yes," he whispers loudly.  "Unless you want to explain to my parents why you lied about having a headache.  Would you like to go accuse my mom of blatantly disrespecting you?  If not, I'd prefer to keep this a private argument, which means I'd appreciate it if you were more aware of your volume."

"I can't even believe that we're having this conversation," I say.

Alex gets into bed.  "Well, I'm pretty done with it myself."

"Fine," I snap.  I roll over in a huff and get as close to the edge of the bed as I can.

"Goodnight," Alex says tentatively.

"Goodnight," I reply angrily.  He decides it's in his best interest to not respond, and he's quiet.

Of course, like a typical man, he falls asleep right away.  Irrationally, I'm irritated about this.  It hardly seems fair that he should be able to fall asleep immediately while I sit here angry, tossing and turning.  Finally, after about an hour, I manage to fall asleep.

Kinsley: Thanksgiving part 2

"Happy Thanksgiving," my dad said cheerfully.  "Isn't it nice that your brother was able to join us, Kinsley?"

"Sure," I replied, too shocked to come up with a better answer.  I stared at Kaleb.  I hadn't seen or talked to my brother in almost 17 years. He looked different than I would have expected.  Of course, the last time I saw him, he was a teenager in a court room in gray jail clothes and handcuffs.  I hadn't spent a whole lot of time thinking about what he'd look like now, but when I had, I certainly hadn't imagined him clean cut and in a button-down shirt.

Next to me, Damien stepped forward and held out his hand.  Kaleb stood and shook it.  "I'm Damien, Kinsley's boyfriend," he said.

"Kaleb, Kinsley's brother," he replied.  "It's really nice to meet you."  I realized then that Damien and Kaleb were roughly the same age, and for some reason that thought made me feel a little nauseated.  I watched as Damien and Kaleb sized each other up and I suddenly felt a wave of anxiety.

"Damien," my dad said suddenly.  "There's something I'd like to show you."  Damien glanced at me, but I was too busy watching my brother, so he headed out of the living room with my dad.

"I'd better check the turkey," Christina said.  She stood and walked towards the kitchen.  Alone with my brother was the last thing I wanted to be right now, so I spun and walked towards the back door, shoving my arm back into my coat sleeve.

"Please tell Damien that I'm out back for a couple minutes if he comes back before I'm in," I requested politely as I passed Christina.  I didn't wait for a response, just went out the back door, down the steps, and all the way to the end of the backyard.  I felt suddenly and inexplicably furious that this was not the yard of the house I grew up in.

I stopped at the back edge of the property and leaned up against a tree, facing away from the house.  Their house was on the very edge of the city on a little over an acre, and the yard was long and narrow.  I felt safe this far from the house.  I pressed my cheek to the rough bark of the tree and took a deep, shaky breath, staring out into the growing darkness.

After several minutes, I heard footsteps approaching.  I figured there was a 50-50 chance if it was Damien or Kaleb, and I didn't turn around.

"Hey Kinsy-bug," Kaleb said softly.

"You don't get to call me that anymore," I replied coldly, without turning around.

He chuckled softly.  "Does anyone?"  I didn't answer, choosing to continue facing away from him.  "I hear you're a CPA," he tried.

"You heard correctly," I said snottily.

"And dad says your boyfriend is a cop?"

"He's a detective," I corrected him.  I knew I was being unreasonable, but I didn't care.  Not even a little bit.

"Look, Kins, I know you're mad at me--"

"You think I'm mad at you?" I snapped, finally whirling around to face him.  "I'm not mad.  Kaleb, I am fucking furious at you!"

"I know," he replied calmly.  He shoved his hands in his pockets and returned my stare, though his was softer, not angry.

"No!" I growled, fury bubbling up inside me.  Fury, and something else.  Something that I couldn't quite put my finger on.  Hurt?  Disappointment?  Whatever it was, I shoved it down and focused on my anger.  Anger kept my head in the game.  "No, you don't know.  You don't have any idea.  You left me.  You fucking left me, Kaleb!  You were the only one that ever gave a shit about me, and you abandoned me, goddamnit!  You left me alone with them, and you never came back."  I was yelling now, and I didn't even bother trying to moderate my volume or tone.

I was so busy yelling at Kaleb that I didn't notice Damien approaching until he appeared next to me.  "Kinsley, is everything alright?" he asked me.  He had his calm voice on, his detective voice.

"Yeah," Kaleb started.  "We're just--"

"I wasn't asking you," Damien said, cutting him off.  He said it softly and matter-of-factly.  "Kinsley?"

"No," I replied, but I wasn't talking to Damien.  I was looking directly at Kaleb.  "It's not okay.  No one took care of me after you left.  I was a 10-year-old kid that had to be a grown up, and I knew nothing about being a grown up!"

Kaleb's expression softened and he took a step towards me.  Damien shifted slightly, a silent warning to Kaleb to stay put.  Kaleb stopped in his tracks.  "I know, Kinsley," he said softly.  "But I wasn't supposed to be the one that had to take care of you."  I didn't say anything.  "It wasn't fair to me, and it wasn't fair to you.  It wasn't my job, but I did the best I could until I couldn't anymore."

I didn't speak, because I knew he was right.  I knew he was right and I knew I was being unfair.  I couldn't admit that right now, but I bit my lip and quietly said, "Okay."  I looked off over his shoulder when I said it, but when I returned my eyes to Kaleb's face, I could tell he knew what was under the dismissive-sounding word.

"Okay," he agreed.  I smiled a little, and Kaleb grinned back.

Damien looked really confused by the sudden release of tension, but wrapped his arm around my shoulder as I began to walk back towards the house.

"Hey Kinsley?" Kaleb said.  I stopped and turned.  "Who taught you how to drive?"

I smiled sadly at his random question.  "My boyfriend," I answered.

He raised one eyebrow.  "You were dumb enough at 16 to let a teenage boy teach you how to drive?"

"No," I replied simply.

Understanding dawned on his face as he realized that meant my boyfriend had been at least 20.  He'd been 22, but I wasn't going to tell him that.  "I would have taught you," he said, grimacing. "You know, if I'd been around."

"I know," I assured him.  Then I turned again and continued towards the house.  Damien walked with me, but Kaleb stayed put, staring out into the darkness.

I had barely stepped in the door when my dad said, "We're waiting for you, are you done with your little tantrum?"

I felt my eyes get wide.  "My...little tantrum?" I echoed.  "My little tantrum because my brother, whom I haven't seen or heard from in 17 years was randomly here?  I feel like that's something that deserves a little warning.  I was a little flustered."

My dad sighed.  "At some point you need to grow up and start acting like an adult, Kinsley."

Next to me, Damien bristled.  "Oh, fuck you," I snarled at my dad.  "I've been acting like an adult since I was 8 years old and had to do my own fucking laundry because you and my worthless pill popping mother couldn't be bothered to meet my basic needs.  I'm more of an adult than you'll ever fucking be!"

"Don't you talk to him like that in this house!" Christina snapped at me.

I snorted.  "Fuck you too, you home-wrecking whore."

"Get out!" my dad roared, standing up and kicking his chair away before taking two menacing steps towards me.  Damien quickly stepped in front of me, blocking my dad's path to me.

"I would be delighted," I replied.  I pushed past Damien and my dad, but my dad grabbed me roughly by my upper arm and yanked back, stopping me dead.  I winced at his tight grip, his fingertips digging into the tender flesh at the inside of my arm.  He was pressing so hard into my arm that he must have been compressing an artery or something, because my fingertips started to tingle within seconds.

He started to say something, but Damien interrupted him.  "Let her go," he said, his voice deadly calm.  "Take your hands off of her immediately."

"Or else what?" my dad asked flippantly, while Christina shrieked, "If you touch him, I'm calling the cops!"

Damien ignored Christina.  "Mr. McLaughlin, let go of your daughter so we can leave before anyone does something they'll regret."  His voice was so soft that Christina had to stop her wretched yipping in order to hear what he was saying.  Damien's dark gray eyes were steely and trained directly on my dad's face.

My dad laughed and let go, giving me the slightest shove forward as he did.  I wasn't ready for it, so I stumbled, but caught myself on the wall.  "As far as I'm concerned, she's not my daughter anymore.  She's all yours.  Good luck.  No returns."

I snatched my purse off the hat rack by the door and forced myself to walk calmly out of that house with my head held high.  Once we were both in my car was another story, and I pulled my knees to my chest and curled into a ball against the door.

"Are you okay?" Damien asked as he started the car.  "Physically, I mean."

"Yeah, I'm fine," I replied.  I snuck a glance at him.  He hadn't let his poker face drop yet, but his knuckles were white on the steering wheel and his jaw was clenched tightly enough that I could see the corded muscles in his neck straining against his skin.  I wasn't in much better shape, and I shoved my hands deep into my pockets so I didn't have to watch them tremble.  Sucking in a shaky breath, I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window and shut my eyes as Damien pulled away from the curb.

Kinsley: Thanksgiving part 1

Next week's bonuses (and Thanksgiving) are starting early!  I've got two Kinsley posts and two Lauren posts for this upcoming week.  I hope you enjoy them :)
___________________________________

"My dad wants us to come to Thanksgiving at his house," I complained to Damien, hanging up the phone.  I was curled up next to him on the couch, with just our arms and legs touching.  We were planning to have Thanksgiving dinner with Damien's family, because I assumed I wouldn't be invited after my dad hung up on me the last time we talked.  Of course, he didn't invite me in a timely fashion--he waited until the day before Thanksgiving to invite us.

"What do you want to do?" Damien asked.

I sighed.  "I don't know.  I don't really want to go, but I probably should at least stop by."

"What time is their dinner?"

"5."

"Well, if you want to stop by, we'd be able to do both my family and yours," he pointed out.

"I know," I agreed.  "Are you okay with going with me?"

"Of course," he said immediately.  So that was how we ended up with plans to go to two different Thanksgiving meals.

I was looking forward to dinner with Damien's family.  Even more so once I found out that Adrienne was spending the day with her new boyfriend's family.  Damien's family ate at noon, and we were planning to get up and go for a quick run together before we got ready and headed over.  I know, we're pretty much the worst.

I was expecting to wake up to my obnoxious alarm, but instead I woke up to Damien softly kissing my shoulder.  I slowly became more aware of my surroundings and could feel his hand caressing my hip and thigh.  I shifted, and Damien softly asked if I was awake.  I mumbled something unintelligible in response.  He kissed shoulder again, then started to shift away from me.  "No," I groaned.  "Come back."

Damien chuckled and moved back towards me, and then his mouth was back against my shoulder, this time nibbling experimentally.  "I thought we were going for a run," I mumbled, yawning and trying to wake up.  I love morning sex, but it takes me awhile to get into it.

"I'd rather do this," he replied, his lips moving against my skin and his hand sliding up my side to my breast.  "Unless you'd rather go for a run..." He gave my nipple a quick tug and then teasingly slid his hand away.

"No," I said again.  I reached for his hand and placed it back on my breast, then arched my back, pressing my hips against him.  I could feel him against me, and I was pretty sure he wouldn't be doing any running in the state he was in.  He rolled my nipple between his fingers and I sighed.  "Feels good," I said, still not awake enough for full sentences.

"Good," he replied, sliding the tip of his tongue up my neck and surprising me by sharply nipping at my earlobe.  I gasped in pleasure and surprise, then groaned as he sucked gently on it, easing the sting of the bite.  Meanwhile, his hand had left my breast and was sliding down my stomach, and I eagerly bent one knee up, waiting for his fingers to stroke me.  I was disappointed when he chose instead to trail his fingers up the inside of my thigh towards my knee.  Finally, his hand dropped between my thighs and he buried two fingers inside me while rubbing circles against my skin with his thumb.  I reached behind me to stroke him while he worked his fingers inside me.  He stopped abruptly just before I came, and I groaned angrily.

"Relax," he replied teasingly.  He lifted my top leg and guided himself achingly slowly into me.  I tried to rock my hips back against his to speed up the process but he clamped his hand down, holding me in place and stopping his own forward progress.

"God, you're the worst," I muttered.  I started to say something else, but was cut off by him suddenly and quickly pushing the rest of the way inside me.  "Fuuuck," I groaned instead, turning my head into the pillow to muffle my moans.  After I came, I rolled away from him, pushed him onto his back, and got on top.  I had one more orgasm before he finished, gripping my hips tightly in his hands.

I barely managed to get off of him, collapsing with my head on his chest and my leg draped over his.  "Good morning," I mumbled.

"Good morning," he replied.  "That was better than a run."  I nodded and yawned.  We ended up falling back asleep before waking up to an alarm Damien must have set when he decided to scrap the run.

After getting ready, we headed to his mom's house.  She greeted us warmly and immediately put Damien to work in the kitchen.  I offered to help but she refused to let me, so I sat at the kitchen island and smirked at Damien.

It was so nice not having Adrienne lurking around making snide comments.  Elize walked in, carrying a large bowl and admonishing one of her children.  Luke and Amelia ran right into the kitchen and hugged Claire, who then shooed them away.  I offered again to help but was refused, so I went into the living room with the kids to keep them occupied.

"Kinsley!" Amelia shrieked.  In her haste to greet her grandmother, she hadn't even noticed me sitting at the island.  She clambered up into my lap and kneeled on my thighs so she was eye level with me.  "Guess what I can do?"

"What?" I asked, laughing and shifting her slightly so her bony knees weren't digging into my legs quite so painfully.

"I can write my name!"

"No you can't!" Luke called from across the room.  "No one can read it."

"I can too!" she replied angrily, making tiny fists and sending a scowl Luke's way.

I leaned down and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen out of my purse and handed them to Amelia.  "Show me," I suggested.  She happily complied, wrapping her fist around the pen and drawing huge, shaky letters across the page.  She ran out of room at the L and squeezed a tiny I and A down the side of the page.

"Wow!" I exclaimed cheerfully.  "Great job, Amelia!"  She beamed up at me.

"But you can't even read it," Luke complained.  "I can write my entire name."

"Well come and show me," I said, motioning him over.  He took the pen and paper and scowled at Amelia's name, then flipped the paper over and scrawled out his first, middle, and last name.  "That's awesome, Luke!" I praised him.

Elize stuck her head in the room and breathed a sigh of relief.  "Thank you," she said.  "They're both cranky today and I'm about at the end of my rope.  I got a little worried when I didn't hear them."

"We're fine," I replied, smiling at her.  "Go ahead and take a break, we'll hang out in here."

"You're my favorite person right now," she said.  "You guys be good for Kinsley."  They didn't even look up at her and she hurried back towards the kitchen before they noticed.

I spent the next 20 minutes refereeing their arguments, watching Amelia write her name over and over, and rolling wayward toy cars back to Luke.  Amelia finally got tired of Luke repeating that he could write his whole name, and demanded I show her how to write her whole name too.  I was in the middle of doing that when I looked up and saw Damien leaning against the doorframe, watching me with a small smile playing at his lips.

"What?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious.

He smiled wider and came into the room, sitting on the floor next to me.  He kissed my cheek, which earned an "Ewwww, that's so gross!" from Luke, and said softly, "I love watching you with them."

"Look Uncle Damien!" Amelia squealed.  She held up her paper triumphantly.

He took it and grinned at her.  "You're a good writer, Amelia," he said.

She stood and climbed into his lap, nestling against his chest.  My heart melted a little.

"Teach me how to write Kinsley's name," she demanded, shoving the pen into Damien's hand.   He chuckled and drew out the letters for her.  Amelia grinned wildly when she finished copying them.  She started to ask for something else, but Elize came back into the room and told the kids to go wash their hands for dinner.

"Thank you," she said to me as Damien and I stood to trail them out of the room.  "You're a lifesaver."

"Claire wouldn't let me help in the kitchen, so it was the least I could do," I assured her.  "And I love hanging out with them."

"They love hanging out with you," she replied.  "Well, Amelia does.  I'm not sure if Luke likes anything."  I laughed as we made it into the kitchen.  We washed our hands too, then sat down at the table.

The meal was amazing, and I ate so much I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to eat at my dad's house.  Oh well, their meal was never this good.  We lingered a long time at the table, drinking wine and talking boisterously.  I actually had fun, which is something that is a foreign concept to me at a family event.  It was nice to not have Adrienne there, but I think I still would have had fun even if she was.  This Thanksgiving dinner felt like every Thanksgiving dinner I'd wished desperately to have growing up.

Once we'd recovered from the meal, Claire brought out the pies.  She'd made pumpkin, pecan, apple, and peach, and I had the hardest time deciding.  We stayed and hung out until it was time to leave to go my dad's house.  I almost suggested we skip my dad's and just stay, but I'd already told him we'd be there.  I may be immature and rude but I'm not a complete social clod.

"Sorry we ended up staying so long," Damien said as he opened my car door for me.  We'd taken my car, but I let him drive.

"Are you kidding?" I replied.  "I had a really great time.  Your mom is the most amazing cook."

He grinned at me and said, "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

We drove straight to my dad's house, and I quickly lost my cheerfulness as we got closer and closer.  I don't know why I even decided we should come.  I was dreading it.  Damien glanced at me a couple times but remained mercifully quiet.

He parked in front of my dad's house and looked over at me.  "Ready?" he asked softly.  I nodded and we got out.  I was already regretting my decision, but I squared my shoulders and told myself to grow up.

I knocked, not feeling comfortable enough to just walk into his house.  Christina opened the door and smiled tentatively.  I greeted her politely as we walked into the house.  I started to take off my coat, but stopped dead--one arm in a sleeve, one arm out.  I stared at the people in the living room, not sure if my eyes were playing tricks on me.  I could feel Damien watching me curiously.

"Happy Thanksgiving," my dad said cheerfully.  "Isn't it nice that your brother was able to join us, Kinsley?"

Lauren: Hot and Cold

The rest of my week is painful and torturous.  I'm not even being that dramatic.  Luckily, Sean was busy most of Monday overseeing the cube swap, but everyone is moved by Tuesday, and it's back to business as usual.

On Tuesday afternoon, I'm sitting at my desk working like I usually am when I become aware of someone standing behind me.  I turn and am surprised to see Sean there, watching me intently.  "Yes?" I ask curtly.  I'm on a roll and I don't appreciate the interruption.

"I'm just watching you.  You do things a little differently than most people, so it's interesting to watch you work," he replies, leaning against the side of my cube.

"I do my best work when I'm not being watched," I say pointedly.

Sean chuckles, clearly getting my point.  "Do I make you nervous?"

I barely stop myself from rolling my eyes.  I'm going to end up getting myself fired if this keeps up.  My former supervisor knew how I worked and just let me do my thing.  I always get my stuff done on time and it's always good work.  This micromanaging bullshit is going to get old quickly.  "No, but I do get a little thrown off when I'm interrupted."

"I didn't interrupt you," he points out.  "I didn't say anything.  I was just watching."

I sigh and turn back to my computer, perfectly conscious of him still standing directly behind me.  I try to get back into what I was doing, but it's hard.  Finally, Sean squeezes my shoulder (which  makes me cringe), says he'll see me later, and leaves.

I'm cranky the rest of the day.  By 5pm, I'm ready to shut down my computer and leave, even though I'm almost finished with what I'm working on and could be done in 15 minutes.  I'd normally just stay and finish, but not today.  As I pack up my stuff, I glance at Sean's office.  Logan is sitting in the chair across from Sean's desk, looking perfectly casual and relaxed.  He looks up when I start moving and then he grins and winks at me before turning back towards Sean.  My nostrils flare in annoyance and I leave quickly.

The week drags because of my new cube and because I'm counting down the days until Friday is over and my vacation starts.  Alex and I are leaving on Sunday for Savannah.  His parents are, as I knew they would be, a little perplexed by the fact that we're staying in a hotel for the first few nights of our trip.  They tried to talk us into staying with them Wednesday through Saturday, but Alex talked them down to Thursday and Friday night.  We're staying in a hotel in the historic district Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday nights, and doing our own thing without them.  I'm actually really looking forward to it.

But first, I need to make it through the rest of this awful week.  Sean pulls the same shit from Tuesday nearly every day.  Just wanders up behind me, watches silently for awhile, and leaves...sometimes touching me and sometimes not.  Finally, on Thursday, I turn and say, "Please stop touching me."

"Oh, that's right," Sean replies, semi-apologetically.  "You don't like that.  I'll keep that in mind."  He nods and continues walking away.  What the fuck.

On Friday, he walks out of his office and over to me, but instead of silently observing me, he says, "I have a project for you, can you come in to my office?"

I stand and follow him into his office, relieved when he doesn't shut the door.  I sit and he explains the project to me, then says, "I need this finished up before Thanksgiving next week."

I give him a weird look.  "That isn't going to work," I reply carefully.  "I'm on vacation all next week."  I glance at the clock.  It's already after 2, there's no way I can finish what he wants done before I leave today.

He frowns, his forehead creasing in confusion and...irritation?  "I don't remember approving a vacation request for you."

"I got it approved before you started," I tell him.  "A couple weeks before you started, I think."

"Yes, but I'm here now and I need to approve all time off requests," he replies brusquely.

"Sean, it was already approved," I say, shaking my head.  "And I'm not aware of a policy that says that time off requests have to be resubmitted in the event of a change in management."  He stares me down and I set my jaw and return his stare.  He's not going to intimidate me.  "I submitted my request to HR as well, maybe they could help clear this up," I suggest calmly.

Sean's eyes get icy at the mention of HR, but he picks up the phone and stabs at a button.  "Mary?  Yes.  I need some help sorting out a time off request," he barks into the phone.  He fills Mary in and then listens intently for about 30 seconds before saying, "I see.  Thank you." He hangs the phone up and looks up at me.  "Well, you're in luck.  They have the request.  Next time, it needs to go through me."

"Next time it will go through you, because you're now my supervisor," I point out.  He narrows his eyes but I hold his gaze.  I'm clearly on thin ice but I don't even care.

"Of course," he says smoothly, rearranging his face into a cheerful impression.  "Well, I apologize for the mix-up.  I think I'll ask Logan to take on the project instead.  And maybe you should get an early start on your vacation, you've been working so hard this week."

"I'm sorry?" I ask, confused.  "I'm not done with--"

"Finish up whatever you're working on and then go ahead and take the rest of the day off," he says, interrupting me.

Now I narrow my eyes.  "Am I in trouble?" I ask.

"What?" he replies, looking incredulous.  "Of course not.  You're one of our best employees and I feel bad for the confusion.  Finish up what you're working on and take the rest of the day."

"Okay, thanks," I say reluctantly.  I feel completely perplexed by his sudden change in attitude and I don't trust him at all.  I stand and walk back to my desk, getting back to work on what I was doing.

An hour later, I'm finishing up and replying to a couple emails.  "You're still here?" Sean asks cheerfully from behind me, making me jump.  I hadn't heard him walk up.  "I thought I told you to get out of here."

"You told me to finish what I was doing," I reply carefully.  "I just did, and now I'm wrapping up a few emails and setting my out of office message."

"Okay," he says, but he doesn't move.  He stands and watches me finish up my emails and set my auto-response.  I really wasn't planning on leaving early, but with him standing there I feel like I need to follow his directions, so I start to pack up my stuff.  "Are you going anywhere fun on your time off?" he asks.

I hesitate, then say, "Savannah.  My boyfriend's parents live there."

"Savannah is a wonderful city," Sean replies.  "Make sure you eat at the Olde Pink House while you're there."

"Thanks for the recommendation."  I'm uneasy again, and I don't like how friendly he's being after the cold looks and blunt disapproval I just got from him about my time off.  It's throwing me off and I don't know what to make of it.  I wonder if he's going to walk me all the way to the door to make sure I leave, but when I put my work bag on my shoulder and grab my purse, he starts to turn back towards his office.

"Have a wonderful trip," he says, reaching out to touch my arm.  Just as his fingers graze me, he pulls back.  "Whoops, sorry.  No touching."  He holds both hands up, smiles a surprisingly disarming smile, then strides towards his office.

I drive straight to Alex's house.  He had worked some overtime earlier in the week and was planning to leave work early today, so I assume he's home.  He is, and he looks surprised when he answers my knock and sees me standing there.  "Lauren, what's wrong?" he asks, immediately concerned.  He steps back and reaches for me as I come inside.

"I need a new job," I spit out angrily, dodging his attempt to touch me.  Alex says nothing, smartly waiting for me to continue.  "I can't work with him."

"With Sean," he says.  A statement, not a question.

"Yes!"  I tell him the story, and Alex appears slightly more concerned this time than last time, but I can tell he still thinks I'm overreacting.

When I'm done talking, Alex considers his words carefully.  "Do you think--" he starts, but he stops abruptly, reconsidering.  I can tell that he knows that he's likely to piss me off with whatever he says but that he's trying his best not to.  "I wonder if he really was just confused?" he finally asks.

"Maybe he was," I agree.  "But his face...He was so cold.  And then the switch flipped and he was so friendly and happy again.  And I don't know what to make of him sending me home early."

"Well, do you want some good news?" Alex asks, probably hoping to avoid an argument with me while I'm all worked up.

I consider continuing to rant and rave awhile longer but realize all it will do is get me more upset.  Maybe the subject change will help.  "Sure," I say finally.  I kick off my heels and collapse in a heap on Alex's couch, worn out from the long week of being on edge from being closely observed.

"My mom called today and told me that they're also have the neighbor and his daughter over for Thanksgiving dinner."

"Why is that good news?" I ask, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose.  Alex sits next to me and starts to rub my neck. I involuntarily stiffen for a split second then relax, sagging against him.

"Because if they're distracted by them, that means you'll at least get to enjoy Thanksgiving dinner a little more," he explains.  "They get weird about guests, and will probably focus most of their attention on neighbor dude and his daughter."

"That is good news," I agree, leaning into Alex's fingers.  He works his thumb and middle finger down either side of my neck, pressing into the tensely knotted muscles there.

"You're so tense," he comments, using his hands to shift me into a better position.  He goes back to rubbing my neck and shoulders--now with both hands, his thumbs pressing firmly into the mess of angry muscles that seem to be trying to permanently attach my shoulders to my ears.

"You would be too," I reply drily.  I try to consciously relax my muscles but they seem stuck.

"You're right," he agrees.  "I would be."  It's exactly what I needed to hear, and my shoulders relax incrementally.  He gives my shoulders and gentle squeeze and says, "Let's go upstairs.  You can lay down and I can do a better job.  You're a mess."

"You sure know how to sweet talk me," I reply, laughing despite myself.  I stand and follow him upstairs, but I just can't leave my uneasy feeling behind.