Lauren: Uneasy

I know that I owe you guys a post.  I won't forget it, but I also don't think I'll be able to get it up this week.  I was too busy having a blast on my trip to think about blogging.  I'll get you guys two posts this week.  I anticipate a bonus or two next week to make up for the skipped post :)
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"And then he wanted to know about what I do outside of work," I complain to Alex.

Alex raises his eyebrows in confusion.  "And?"

"And why should I have to tell him that?"

"Why not?" Alex asks.  "I talk to my boss about things that aren't work related all the time."

"What?" I ask.  "Why would you do that?"

Alex chuckles a little.  "That's what most people do, actually," he replies.  "I'm pretty sure you're in a really significant minority with going to work, doing your work, and not chatting with your coworkers."

"I chat with my coworkers," I argue.  "Not as much as most of them, that's true.  But I don't see any reason to chat with my boss.  He's my boss.  Why does he care what I do on the weekends as long as it doesn't affect my job?"

"Because he's trying to form a relationship with you so you don't hate him."

"That's what he said," I grumble.  "But I wouldn't hate him.  He's my boss.  He'll have to do things I don't agree with him.  It's his job.  It is what it is."

"Most people aren't like you," Alex points out.

"But besides that, something about him felt off," I insist.  "And he touched me."  That gets Alex's attention.  "He put his hand on my back," I clarify quickly.  "But you know how I am about people touching me."

"Yes, I do," he agrees.  "He sounds...overenthusiastic."

I snort.  "Let's hope that's his worst fault." I'm a little irritated that Alex doesn't see the problem with any of this.  It isn't so much that he asked, but that he pressured me to tell him even after I told him I wasn't comfortable with it.  And then he touched me.  I'm just not a fan.  "What do you want to eat?" I ask, changing the subject.

We debate our dinner options for awhile, settle on one, and go pick up food.  When we finish eating and are cleaning up, Alex wraps his arms around me from behind and presses his lips to my neck.  "Are you going to get mad at me for touching you?" he asks.

I pull away and snap, "Yes, if you're going to do it to mock me and make me think about my sleazy new boss."

"Lauren, I'm sorry," he says immediately.  "That was shitty.  I didn't mean to mock you."

"Okay, thanks," I reply.  "I accept your apology."  He backs off and gives me some space while we finish cleaning up, and we move to the couch for a little while before bed.

I'm really tired and we end up heading up to bed pretty early.  I let Alex brush his teeth first because I take a lot longer, taking off my makeup and such.  By the time I'm done he's in bed.  He's laying on his back squarely on his side of the bed.  I climb under the blankets next to him and lay close to him, but not quite touching him.  I do rest my head on his arm, then slide my hand down his stomach, pausing at the waistband of his shorts.

"I thought you were mad at me," he says, sounding confused.

"I'm not," I reply, working his shorts down over his hips and wrapping my hand around him, moving it slowly.  He groans and moves his head, trying to get within range to kiss me, but I stay where I am.  Eventually I slide down the bed and give him what I'm pretty sure is one of the best blowjobs I've ever given.

"Jesus, Laur," he breathes, once he catches his breath.  He slides his hand down my hip and slips his fingers beneath the hem of my shorts, but I push his hand away.  "No?"

"Not tonight," I say.

He pushes himself up on one elbow and looks at me.  "You're really upset about this new boss, aren't you?"

I shrug.  "Not really upset, but I just feel...uneasy, I guess.  I can't put my finger on why.  I'm probably just being an idiot because my routine has been changed without my knowledge or consent, though."  I roll onto my side and scoot backwards a little, and he settles behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist.

"You're never an idiot," he replies, dropping a kiss onto my shoulder.  "Dramatic control freak, sure.  But not an idiot."

"I'll show you a dramatic control freak," I grumble back to him.

"Kinky," he replies, and I can imagine him smirking.  I dig my elbow back into his ribs until he laughs and says, "Knock it off."  I do, and we both settle down to sleep.

When I get to work the next day, I do my best to slip unnoticed past Sean's office and go right back to my cube.  The day is quiet, and Sean barely looks up when I walk past his office to go to the bathroom or to the breakroom for more coffee.  By the end of the day, I've relaxed and decide that maybe I was being ridiculous yesterday.

After work, I meet up with Liv, Kinsley, and Kendra to get dinner and drinks.  It feels like it's been forever since we've all hung out.  I'm the first one there, as usual.  Liv and Kendra both get there just a couple minutes after me, and Kinsley is about 10 minutes late--also as usual.

Once we're all there, we order drinks.  We all give Kendra a weird look when she orders water.  "What?" she asks, a little defensively.

"You just don't usually order water," I point out.  "Something you want to tell us?"

"No," she says quickly, but I can tell she's lying.  I cock an eyebrow and she laughs and rolls her eyes.  "Fine," she says, holding up her hands in surrender.  "I wanted to tell you guys in a more exciting way, but I'm obviously outed.  I'm pregnant!"

Kinsley and Liv both squeal, and I hug Kendra since I'm next to her.  She's laughing and the people around us are looking at us like we're total assholes, which we are at the moment.  "Congratulations," I say, trying to keep my excitement contained to a level that is appropriate for a public dining establishment.  Kinsley and Liv echo me and we all bring our volume down a notch.

"Thank you," she replies, beaming.  "Only our families know, so can you keep your mouths shut?  I mean, I guess if you want to tell your boyfriends, that's fine.  And your husband," she adds, looking at Liv.

We spend the rest of dinner chattering excitedly about Kendra's pregnancy and the other things going on in our lives.  Kinsley is uncharacteristically quiet at first, but she warms up quickly.

Friday is much the same as Thursday, and I relax even more at work.  I've now fully convinced myself I was being ridiculous about Sean.  He catches me as I'm leaving and wishes me a good weekend.  Nothing creepy or shady about it.  I smile and wish him the same in return.

I go to Alex's house after work.  He's already there, reclining lazily on the couch, still in his work clothes.  They're disheveled from the day--tie loosened, some of his shirt buttons undone, shirt untucked, socks off.  "Really?" I ask, walking in and giving him a look.

"Long week," he replies, grinning at me.  "Come here."  I unzip my boots and take them off, then go over to the couch and sit next to him.  "Don't I get a kiss hello?" he asks, pretending to pout.

"You are seriously the worst," I say, but I lean over and kiss him.  I only mean to give him a quick kiss, but he grabs me around the waist and pulls me tightly against him, kissing me deeply.

"The worst?" he asks, pulling away and cocking an eyebrow.  "I'd better present evidence to the contrary."  He slides his hands under my skirt.  "I still owe you from the other night."

"No you don't," I argue.  "That wasn't the point."

"I don't care," he replies.  His fingers hook beneath the waist of my underwear and slide them down my thighs.  When they're as far down as they'll go with how I'm sitting, he flips me onto my back on the couch, and pulls them the rest of the way off.  Then he pushes my skirt up out of the way and runs his hands back down over my hips, down my legs, and back up, parting them as he goes.  He spends a little time teasing me with his fingers before he settles between my legs and lowers his mouth to my skin.

When he's done, I'm a breathless heap of tangled clothes, twisted on the couch.  He laughs.  "Now who's a mess in their work clothes?" he teases me.  He gives my ass a light smack and says, "Move over, I want to lay with you."  I shift so he can lay between me and the back of the couch, and he wraps his arms around me.  We end up spending most of the rest of the evening fooling around on the couch before finally going to his bedroom and having sex.

I spend the entire weekend with Alex, which is not a thing I normally do.  But it's a good weekend, and I'm feeling relaxed and cheerful on Monday morning when I get to work.  That feeling ends as soon as I walk back into our little cube farm.  It looks like a three ring circus.

"What's going on?" I ask a coworker named Leah.

She rolls her eyes at me.  "Moving cubes," she says back quietly.  "A surprise move.  I don't know why.  Sean says he wants to make things more 'cohesive'."

I sigh and make my way back to my cube.  Someone has placed a box on my chair so I can move my stuff, and I see my phone is already disconnected.  I groan and start packing up my stuff, waiting for someone to come direct me to my new cube.

Shortly after I finish packing, Sean comes over with a newer guy trailing behind him.  "You'll be taking this one," Sean says to him.  "And Lauren, come with me please."  He flashes me a quick smile, which I force myself to return.

My smile dies when he proudly presents my new cube: the one directly in front of his office.

Next couple posts

I know I usually have Friday's post up by now.  I'm running around getting ready to leave in the morning to travel to visit friends, and I only have half a post written.  I'll have a Lauren post up as soon as I can.  Monday's post will also be late--probably sometime on Tuesday.  Sorry about the delay and the late notice!  The second half of this week has been a little bit crazy for me.

I hope everyone has a great weekend, and I'll get some posts up soon for you all!

Lauren: Poor Sport

Kinsley's gotten so much attention lately, it doesn't seem fair.  The only solution is a Lauren bonus to help even things out!
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After a rather spirited debate, we decide to take the bus to the stadium for the game.  I had offered to drive, but Alex isn't exactly a fan of my driving in heavy traffic.  He claims my road rage is going to get us both killed, but he's clearly being dramatic.

Anyway, we get there without incident: me in my Clay Matthews jersey and Alex in his Peyton Manning jersey.  Fitting, because I anticipate that Matthews will have Manning on his ass behind the line of scrimmage at least a couple times.  We get more than a couple looks and comments from other (mostly Bronco but definitely a good number of Packer) fans in and around the stadium.  Like no one has ever seen a Packers fan and a Broncos fan in love.

When we find our seats, I'm not shocked that we're surrounded by Broncos fan.  One of them looks at us, laughs, and says, "One of you is going to be sleeping on the couch tonight!"

Alex snorts.  "It'll probably be me either way--she's a terrible sport."

"Hey!" I protest.  Alex gives me a look and I laugh and relent.  "It's true, I am."

"I don't blame you," the guy says.  "Someone's going to take their first loss this season, and since it's probably going to be you, I'd be a poor sport too."  Alex cracks up and we do a little shit talking with the guy and his friend, which is fun.

Once the game starts, my poor sportsmanship doesn't take long to creep in.  The game is ugly from the start.  It stays ugly, too.  The Packers end up losing 10-29, and they didn't even put in a good effort, so I'm pretty surly by the end.

"They didn't even make it a good game," I mutter as we file out of the stadium with the thousands of people around us.

"You're right, they didn't put up much of a fight at all," Alex agrees, and I can see him smirking when I glare up at him.  "Thanks for the tickets, babe," he continues, kissing the top of my head when we pause to wait our turn to go through the doorway.

"I really might kill you," I warn him.

"You keep saying that," he replies.

We finally make it onto the bus we need and I'm irritated by all the cheerful Broncos fans.  I wish I wasn't such a poor sport.  "I'm sorry it wasn't at least a good game," Alex says.  I nod.  "Are you going to pout the whole rest of the night?" he asks.

"No," I grumble.  "Just let me sulk the rest of the ride and then I'll move on with my life."

"Seems fair," he agrees.

Turns out I don't even need the whole ride.  I realize that I'm being a complete bitch and shake it off.  "Well," I say, looking up at him.  "I guess it's only fair that your team won, since the tickets were a gift to you."

"Does that mean I don't have to sleep on the couch tonight?"

I laugh.  "I guess not.  I think I can probably share my bed with you."

"I'll make it worth it," he replies, wiggling his eyebrows at me.  I roll my eyes, but laugh when he wraps his arm around my shoulder.

I allow myself to relax against him, PDA be damned.  I don't even know who I am anymore.  The bus ride seems to take forever and I briefly wish Alex hadn't protested so vehemently to me driving.  Then I realize I'm glad to not be driving in the stadium traffic and relax a little more.  When we finally get back to my house, we got straight to my room and Alex more than makes good on his promise to make letting him sleep in my bed worth it--not that I ever actually considered making him sleep on the couch.


Monday, Liv and I spend our first Monday evening together since before she got married.  I don't know why I was surprised last week when she texted and asked if we could restart.  I guess I had assumed she wouldn't want to do it anymore now that she's married.  I'm not sure why I assume that things are going to change, but I just do.  We don't see nearly as much of Kendra now that she's married, so I figure Liv will be the same.  Maybe that's an asshole thing for me to think.

Either way, I'm excited to see her.  We meet at a restaurant close to my office in time to catch the tail end of their happy hour specials, so we order drinks and a few different appetizers to share.  "How was your fancy-pants honeymoon?" I ask her once we're settled.

"It was amazing," she replies.  "I have no idea how much it cost, and I don't want to know, but I'm confident it was worth every penny."

As Liv tells me all about their honeymoon, I can't help but feel a tiny stab of jealousy.  Both Alex and I are very comfortable financially, and someday if we end up combining our incomes, we'll be quite a bit better than "comfortable".  But even so, we'll never be able to go on a vacation like that.  And I have to admit that it really does sound amazing.

"That sounds really nice," I say when she finishes.  I keep my mouth shut because anything else that comes out might not be as nice.

"It was," she replies.  "I guess we're going back for our anniversary."  I have to literally bite my tongue then to keep my sarcastic comment about how nice it must be to be able to afford a once-in-a-lifetime vacation on a yearly basis.  I swallow hard and shake the shitty jealous feeling, because I don't want to ruin the rest of my evening with Liv by being an asshole.

"I'm really glad you guys had such a nice wedding and honeymoon," I say, and I'm not lying.  I am really glad.  Regardless of my jealousy, I'm definitely happy that Liv is so happy.  I can see it in her face, and when I think back to Liv when she was with John, the difference is amazing.  By the end of her relationship with John, she was timid, anxious, and constantly miserable.  I love seeing her back to her smiling, cheerful, kindhearted self.

"How is work?  And Alex?" Liv asks, and I'm relieved for the subject change.

I shrug.  "Work is work.  Logan won't leave me along, even though I just keep blowing him off.  Alex is great though."  I pause and smile, and Liv's grin grows bigger.  "Things have really fallen into place since we finally talked about how I was feeling and it's such a relief."

"That's good," Liv replies.  "So what's Logan's deal?"

I roll my eyes.  "He's such a dick, Liv.  He knows he got to Alex that one time we saw him out, and I think he loves just fucking with me."  I cringe and continue, "I'm so glad I didn't do anything more stupid than I did."

"No kidding," Liv agrees.  "What an ass."

We spend a lot of time sitting there, eating and drinking and catching up.  Liv checks her phone when we've finally paid and says, "I need to hang out in town until Brody's ready to leave, and he's stuck for a bit longer.  Do you want to find a place to have another drink?  Otherwise I might go hang out at his office for awhile."

"Why don't you just come over?" I ask.

"Oh, good idea," she agrees.  We split up to drive back to my house, and we spend a little over an hour hanging out on my couch, watching shitty TV together.  We have a really great time, and both my jealousy and my worry that things will change are long gone by the time she leaves to go pick up Brody and head home.


On Tuesday, everyone seems to be buzzing when I get to work.  I have never been into office gossip, so I make my way back to my cube and get situation for the day.  I don't even have my computer booted up when Logan sidles over.  "Did you hear?" he asks.

"Hear what?"

"The boss man is out."

I roll my eyes at his glib tone.  "What do you mean?"

"He quit this morning.  He's gone."

In our competitive industry, there's no such thing as two week's notice if you have a high enough position.  When you quit, you get to pack up your shit under the watchful eye of security and whoever is above you, and then you get escorted immediately out.

"Huh," I reply.  Logan looks at me expectantly, like he's hoping I'll say more, but I don't.  Finally, he shrugs and walks away.

I'm pretty sure I'm the only one that gets anything done today, but by the end of the day they've hauled in some poor fool from one of our other offices and put him up in our former boss's office.  Not even an hour after, we get an email stating that Sean is here to stay, so please be sure to welcome him!  I glance at the clock, see that it's 5:01, and shut down my computer.  Maybe tomorrow, Sean.

Turns out I don't have much of a choice.  On Wednesday, Sean is pulling everyone into his office, one by one.  Every 10-15 minutes I see him come out, wander to the next cube in the row, and motion the poor employee there to his office.

Because I'm in the back corner, I'm one of the last.  It's 4:30 before he makes his way all the way back to my corner.  "Hi," he says, flashing a dazzling smile at me.  "I'm Sean."  He's attractive, but his smile and tone are too bright to be genuine.

"Lauren," I reply.

If he's put off by my brief answer, he doesn't show it.  "I'm taking a few minutes to chat with everyone and get to know the staff here.  Will you come over to my office for a couple minutes?"

"Sure," I say, shrugging.  I save what I'm working on and stand, trailing him back to his office.  Once I'm seated, he pulls the door firmly shut behind us.

"So, Lauren," he starts.  "Why you don't you tell me a little about your career here with us so far."

I tell him the basics.  How long I've worked there, what I do, what types of projects I usually get.  He listens intently, his dark blue eyes trained on my face.  His intense eye contact is enough to make me uncomfortable.

Then he tells me a little about himself.  Which office he came from, what he did there, the usual.  When he finishes that, I'm surprised to hear him say, "So why don't you tell me a little bit about what you're like outside of work."

Before I can stop myself, I blurt, "Why?"

He chuckles.  "I'm a firm believer in people working for me because they want to.  I think it's important to form strong relationships with your employees, and I can hardly do that if all I know about you is what you do while you're here."

"I prefer to keep my work and personal lives separate," I say carefully.  I don't like the vibe I'm getting from this guy.

"Oh, come on Lauren.  Don't be a poor sport."  But I'm so good at it.

"Well, I don't know," I answer uncomfortably.

"Sure you do," he insists.  "Do you like to kayak?  To go to the movies?  To hang out with your boyfriend?"

"Sure, I guess I like to spend time with my friends and my boyfriend.  I like to read.  I like to binge watch shitty TV."

"Don't we all!" he replies cheerfully.  "Thanks for sharing, Lauren!"  I hate the way he says my name.  "I'd better let you finish up what you were working on before it's quitting time."

I stand, relieved to be done.  He steps out from behind his desk to come open the door, but when he's next to me, he puts a hand on my back.  I immediately step away, earning a weird look.  "Please don't touch me.  I'm picky about my personal space," I say firmly.

He chuckles.  "I love an assertive woman in the workplace," he replies, winking at me.  "Consider me warned."  He holds up his hands and walks past me to push open the door.

I'm seething by the time I get back to my desk, but by the time I get home, I've calmed down considerably.  One thing is for sure, though: things are going to get really interesting at work.

Kinsley: Liquid Courage

I wish I could say that I was able to just take Liv's advice and talk to Damien about what was happening in my head, but it proved to be even harder than I thought it would be (and I had known it would be hard for me).  I tried at least 4 times during dinner Thursday but I just couldn't do it.

So dinner was weird.  Stiff and a little awkward.  I resisted the urge to consume alcohol as quickly as possible to make it less weird, but I still drank a little too much.  I was embarrassed when I had to hand Damien my keys to drive us back to his house.  I also hadn't been sure about spending the night, but I got rid of the option by getting drunk.

Damien offered me his hand as we walked from the restaurant to my car, but I crossed my arms firmly across my chest and only wobbled a little.  I could tell that Damien was getting really frustrated with the way I was acting.  "Damien," I said, once we had gotten into the car.  This was it.  I needed to just tell him.  Liquid courage, don't fucking fail me.  "I..."  I froze.

"You what?" he asked gently.

"Thanks for driving," I said quickly.  "I owe you one."  Damn it.

"Sure," he replied.  I could tell he didn't believe that's what I was going to say, but he didn't push me.  I almost wished he would, but I also knew I'd be pissed if he did.  He couldn't win, and it wasn't fair.

We watched TV mostly in silence while I drank some water and tried to shake the last of my buzz.  Sitting here, quietly drunk, with a solid 3 feet of couch between Damien and I, I felt like the biggest disaster I'd ever been.  At least when I was sobbing on Sunday I was being real.

"I'm tired," Damien said finally.  "Where do you want to sleep?"

"What?" I asked, not sure I understood.

"Well, I just didn't want to assume anything...the guest room is ready, if you didn't want to--"

"I want to sleep with you," I interrupted.  As I trailed him to his room, I knew I had to bite the bullet.

Once the lights were off, I finally let him close to me--physically at least.  I laid on my side and let him press his chest against my back and loosely wrap an arm around my waist.  I laid there, silently, for several minutes before I rolled away.  Once I was settled, I said, "Damien?"

"Yeah?" His hand found mine in the dark and I loosely wove my fingers between his.

"I know I'm being weird.  I'm trying really hard not to push you away, but it's obviously not going well.  I don't mean to do it, and I know that it sucks.  I just wanted you to know that."

After a brief pause, he replied, "Thanks for telling me that.  Is there anything I can do differently?"

I shook my head vehemently, even though he couldn't see me in the dark.  "No, you've been perfect.  I couldn't ask for you to have handled everything the last few days better, even though I know the last couple have probably sucked.  It's my own shit, and I'm trying."  He was quiet, and I pushed forward.  "It was really scary when I realized how vulnerable I had let myself be.  As far as I've come, I wasn't quite ready for all that.  And I don't want you think that I don't trust you, or that I'm trying to keep you out.  I just...I can't.  It's hard."

"I appreciate that," he said.  "I don't know what to do, Kinsley.  I can assure you that nothing that happened so far this week changed my opinions or feelings about you in any way.  I'm glad that you're trying, but this is hard for me too."

"I know," I said quietly.

"I love you, and I want to know everything about you.  Even the bad stuff and the really fucking terrible stuff.  And as much as I try, it's hard not to take it at least a little bit personally when you shut me out completely."

"I know," I said again.

"But I know that you're trying, and I appreciate that. It helps to know what's going on in your head, so thank you.  I'm not telling you this to make you feel bad; I'm pretty sure you feel shitty enough already ewith everything that's been happening.  I just want you to know where I'm at, since you told me where you're at."

I didn't say anything for several seconds, then I flipped onto my other side so I was facing him.  I sucked in a deep breath, then said, "I went to see my mom."

"Is she out of the hospital?"

"Yes.  I went to see her at home.  I'm done."

"Done?" he asked.

"All she wanted to do was be passive aggressive and see you.  I told her that if she was ever willing to truly work on our relationship, I would put everything in the past and start over, but she needs to make the first move.  Then she called me a stupid little tramp and threw something at me."

"Sounds like the right choice," he said.

"What? Calling me names and throwing things at me?" I asked, smiling in the dark.

He chuckled.  "Of course," he replied.  "No, it sounds like you made the right choice."  I was relieved by his response.  It was validating without being sympathetic or patronizing, and exactly what I needed to hear.

"I feel like I did," I agreed.  I shifted around again and got into a position I could fall asleep in.  As suddenly as I had decided to volunteer the information about yesterday, I was done talking about it.  "I love you."

"I love you too, Kinsley," he replied.  He pushed himself up on one elbow so he could learn forward and kiss me, then we both settled into comfortable positions to fall asleep.

I don't think I moved all night, and when I woke up in the morning, an hour before I needed to be up, I stretched and rolled onto my stomach.  Next to me, Damien blinked sleepily, then smiled.  "Good morning," he said softly.

"Morning," I replied, smiling back.  He moved closer and began stroking my back, trailing his fingers from my neck, across my shoulder blades, down my spine to my lower back, and back up.  I sighed and shut my eyes, enjoying his gentle touch.  Eventually his fingers drifted down across my ass and to my legs.  As he dragged his fingers back up the backs of my thigh, he let his index finger slide up my inner thigh.

I moved over and rolled onto my side, pressing my back against his chest and providing Damien access to the front of my body.  He continued trailing his fingers lightly across my skin, dragging them over my hip, up my stomach, across my breasts, then back down.  He kept it up until I bent my top leg up and hooked it over his, providing a not-so-subtle hint about where I wanted his fingers.

He kissed my neck and shoulder as he stroked between my legs, quickly bringing me to orgasm.  I didn't even get a chance to recover before he pushed into me.  I cried out and arched my back against him as he started moving inside me.  Damien wrapped his arm around me, pulling me tightly back against him.  He moved slowly, keeping his mouth pressed against my shoulder.  After several minutes, he loosened his grip on me and moved his hand back between my legs, sliding his fingers in circles as he been to move faster.

We came within seconds of each other, Damien's teeth scraping against my shoulder as he shuddered.  He leaned heavily against me as we both caught our breath, our fingers tangled together beneath my body.  Once we'd both recovered a little bit, we moved around until Damien was on his back and I had my head on his chest.  I'd desperately needed this to reconnect with him after pushing him away.

I was starting to drift back to sleep when Damien said, "Call in sick.  Let's spend the day together."

I pushed myself up on my elbow and looked at him.  "Mr. Rule Follower wants to play hooky?" I asked, surprised.

He laughed.  "No, absolutely not," he said, pretended to be offended I'd accused him of such a thing.  "I spent so many hours working this week that my boss told me if I came in today he'd fire me."

"Ohhh, so you just want me to play hooky," I replied, smirking.  I frowned, considering this.  I'd taken a sick day on Monday, but we were slow at work right now, and I'd hardly had anything to do yesterday.  I also had a couple personal days I needed to use before the end of the year, because they didn't roll over like sick or vacation days.  "Let's do it!"

I sent a quick email to my boss, then we started our impromptu day off together by having sex again and going back to sleep.  I was not normally one for sleeping in very late, but it felt good after the week I'd had.  When I woke up, I rolled over to snuggle against Damien, but he wasn't there.  I pouted briefly until I heard the sounds of breakfast being made.  I got up and pulled some sweats and a t-shirt on and made my way out to the kitchen.

Damien was leaning against the counter, watching something cook on the stove.  "Pancakes?" I asked, wrapping my arms around his waist and peering around his shoulder.

"Pancakes," he confirmed, turning to face me.  He wrapped his arms around me and let me settle against his chest.  "You must have been tired," he commented.  "It's almost 10:30."

"Wow," I said in surprise.  I hadn't even looked at the clock or my phone.  "I guess so."  Damien asked me to get plates and silverware out.  He'd made pancakes, eggs, and turkey sausage.  I pulled a bag of grapes out of the fridge and washed some, then grabbed plates and silverware.

"What should we do today?" Damien asked, as we sat and ate our breakfast.

"Let's get out of the house," I replied.  "Hell, let's get out of the city."

"Sure," he agreed.  "Anything in mind?" I shook my head, and he suggested, "Let's just get in the car, pick a direction, and drive until we see something interesting."

I grinned.  "I like that idea."

We finished our breakfast and both took quick showers, then got in Damien's car and headed west, which we determined by drawing a card from a deck of cards sitting out on his coffee table.  Diamonds were west, and that's what we picked.

Our first stop ended up being for coffee, but after that, we pulled into the Lookout Mountain Nature Center parking lot.  It wasn't far from the city, but neither of us had been there.  We wandered around, walking both of the short, flat walking trails they had.  Then we got back in the car, drove back to Hwy 6, and continued west.  We drove through Windy Saddle Park and Clear Creek Canyon Park, stopping to check out the view or wander around a little a couple of times, then turned around and headed back along Hwy 40.  We stopped in Genesee to eat, then headed back into the city.

It was almost 6 when we got back.  We stopped and got a bottle of wine, a couple different kinds of cheese, and some expensive chocolate, so we could go home and pretend to be fancy while we sat on the couch in our underwear and watched Netflix.

I laid on the couch with my head in Damien's lap, my eyes half closed as he played with my hair and rubbed his fingertips lightly across my scalp.  "I needed today," I mumbled, trying to fight the sleep that wanted to take over after half a bottle of wine and delicious cheese and chocolate.  "Calling in was a good idea."

"Today was really nice," Damien agreed.  "Thanks for taking the day off and spending it with me."

I rolled onto my back and looked up at him, smirking.  "Thank you for doing something as wild and crazy as getting into the car and driving without a plan," I teased him.

He chuckled and shook his head.  "It was fun.  I'm not that type A."

"That's what you say," I said, grinning.  I couldn't believe how much better I felt after just talking to him about what had been going on in my head.  Even though I was still stressed about my mom and what I had decided, I felt so much more relaxed after spending the day having fun with Damien.

"You look like you're thinking hard about something," Damien observed.

I shook my head.  "No, I'm just thinking about how much of an idiot I was this week."  I sat up abruptly and looked at him.  "And I don't think I ever apologized.  I'm sorry.  I was really shitty to you, and you sure as hell didn't deserve it.  And even if you did for some reason, it still wouldn't have been okay."

"Thank you," he replied.  "I'm just glad you're feeling better about everything.  I hope you know that I'd do anything to help you manage something bad happening in your life, and it has nothing to do with 'fixing' you."

"Well," I admitted, "You can thank Liv for pointing out that there's a difference between wanting to fix something bad that's happening and wanting to fix me.  It was honestly not a difference that had occurred to me before that.  Everyone's always just wanted to fix me or feel bad for me, and I hate that."

"You made that perfectly clear," Damien replied, fighting a smile.

"And don't you dare forget it," I said, laughing.

And with that, we both returned our attention to the episode of Daredevil we were watching.  I appreciated Damien's ability to have brief serious conversations instead of wanting to drag them out for an hour (or more) like some people do.  It helped make them not quite as difficult, though I clearly still wasn't good at them.

I laid back down, and Damien's hand automatically returned to my head, his fingers dragging through my hair, gently untangling tiny knots until he made it all the way through without resistance.  This time, I didn't bother fighting sleep.

Kinsley: Stupid Little Tramp

I didn't sleep well Tuesday night.  I couldn't.  I was too busy vacillating between being mad at myself for losing so much control this weekend and being mad at myself for being so awful to Damien.  I truly didn't want to be awful to him, but I needed him to know that I needed a little space in no uncertain terms.  If I had just told him I needed some space, I was worried he'd just show up anyway.

He'd done that the one night when we were fighting and he ran into Cole in the process.  Ugh.  That was a shit show.  I wasn't interested in a repeat--not that I was planning on having Cole over.  I hadn't even talked to Cole since maybe about a week or so after Damien and I had gotten back together.  Once he couldn't fuck me anymore, he'd lost all interest in even bothering to be a friend.  Too bad, because I could have used his brand of brutal honesty right now, but don't worry...I wasn't going to open that can of worms.

I texted Liv on Wednesday morning and asked if she wanted to go to the gym with me after work.  She replied right away that she'd love to, and I turned my attention to my work.

I tried to focus, but it didn't work very well.  I worked through lunch to leave a little early and met Liv at the gym at a little after 5.  I had hardly seen her since she got married because our schedules just hadn't matched up.  Everyone was so busy lately.  "Hey married lady!" I greeted her with a grin.

She laughed and grinned back.  "Hi!" she replied cheerfully.  "It has been seriously too long since we've worked out together."

"It's been seriously too long since we've done anything together," I pointed out.

"That's true," she agreed.  "So how have you been?"

I hesitated a split second too long and she cocked an eyebrow curiously.  "Not the best," I said honestly.  I imagined that Liv was probably a pretty good therapist, because she managed to look interested and sympathetic without looking like she felt sorry for me.  I shrugged and gave her the Cliff's Notes version.  "My mom was in the hospital for a couple days.  I don't really get along with my family, so it was pretty shitty.  I kind of lost it at the hospital, and then really lost it at home.  Damien was there, and...I don't know.  I kind of freaked out yesterday about it all."

If Liv was surprised by any of that, she didn't show it.  "What do you mean, freaked out?" she asked.

"I may or may not be completely avoiding Damien," I admitted miserably.  I had no real idea why I was telling Liv any of this, but it wasn't awful.

"You don't seem happy about that," she said.

"I'm not," I groaned.  "But I'm also not happy about completely losing it either.  I don't do well with that."

Liv shrugged and switched spots on the bench with me.  "What if you just acknowledged that you're uncomfortable with what happened and you're trying to figure it out?"

I sat up and looked at her, perplexed.  "Like, just tell him that I'm being weird?  And that I know I'm being weird?"

"Sure," she replied.  "Then at least he knows that you're not upset with him.  You're not, right?  It doesn't sound like you are."

"I'm not," I agreed.  "I don't think so.  I don't know for sure, I guess.  I sort of feel like he wants to fix me."

"Fix you?  Or fix the shitty things that are happening right now?  There's a huge difference.  He loves you, he's going to be upset when bad things happen in your life."

I opened my mouth, then shut it again.  It sounds really, really fucking stupid, but I hadn't even considered that.  Fixing was fixing was fixing in my head, but as soon as Liv mentioned that, I realized that there was indeed a big difference.  "Well..." I said.  I gave up and just shrugged.

Liv smiled, then asked, "Is your mom okay?"

"Yeah, she'll be fine," I replied.  "She's out of the hospital now.  I'm going to go see her after this, I think."

Liv let me change the subject, and we chatted about lighter topics for the rest of our workout.  It was awesome to catch up with her and have a workout buddy, so we scheduled another workout next Wednesday.  I took a quick shower, got dressed, and then called my mom from the car.  She didn't answer, but I drove towards her house anyway.

When I got there, I saw that the light in her living room was on.  I parked my car and knocked on the door.  After several seconds, I heard movement inside.  The blinds twitched, then I heard the click of the lock and the door opened.  "Kinsley," my mom said; not quite a greeting.

"Hi, Mom," I replied.

"What do you want?" she asked snottily.

"To visit you.  Can I come in?"

"I guess," she said.  She moved out of the way so I could slip past her, then she shut and locked the door behind her.

My mom's house was small and seriously needed some updates, along with some repairs.  It was not in the best neighborhood either, but she refused to move.  "No Damien?" she asked sulkily, peeking around me as though I was somehow hiding him.

"He's working," I lied smoothly.

"You should bring him here when he's not working," she replied.

I shrugged and said, "I'll see what I can arrange."

"Neither of you come visit me," she complained.

"You're right," I acknowledged.  "I haven't been visiting you much lately, and that sucks.  That's why I've been to see you twice in the last three days."

"But you didn't bring Damien with you either time," she pointed out.

"Damien also isn't related to you," I replied through gritted teeth.  This was going well.

"Is that much different than you?  You wish you weren't related to me."

I squeezed my eyes shut briefly and took a deep breath.  "That's not true," I said, trying my best to keep my voice calm.

"Oh, don't lie to me," she snapped.  "I'm your mother and I can tell.  You don't care about me anymore.  You wouldn't have been too terribly broken up if I had died.  Why are you even here?"

I gaped at her.  "What, exactly, do you expect from me?" I asked.  "You barely took care of me when I was growing up.  You blame me for everything that's gone wrong in your life.  You take every opportunity now to take cheap shots at me and be passive aggressive.  And you're creepily obsessed with my boyfriend on top of it!"

She snorted.  "He's an incredibly good-looking man, or haven't you noticed?  I very much enjoy seeing him."

"Yes, I've noticed!" I exclaimed.  "But he's my incredibly good-looking man and what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Don't you talk to me like that," she scolded me.

I couldn't help it.  I laughed.  I burst into laughter and I couldn't stop.  My mom glared at me.  "I don't know why I keep trying," I said when I finally got it together.  "Every time I see you, I want so badly for you to have changed.  Every time, I realize I'm an idiot for being hopeful.  I've spent my entire life desperately wanting you to love me unconditionally and to want to have a relationship with me.  But the only thing you want is to make me just as miserable as you are.  I just can't keep doing this."

"Is that a threat?" my mom asked, raising her eyebrows in warning.

"No," I replied truthfully.  "It's a white flag.  I surrender.  I quit.  If you ever decide that you want to work on our relationship, call me.  If you truly want to fix it, I'll put the past out of my head and just move forward.  But for now, I need to just be done."  I turned and crossed back to the door.

I was halfway out when she screamed, "You'll regret everything, you stupid little tramp!"  I took a deep breath and just continued out, starting to pull the door closed behind me.  Something crashed against the wall just a foot from my head before I got all the way out, but I just finished shutting the door and walked to my car.  

When I got to my car, I took my phone out and called Damien.  He answered on the second ring.  "Did you still want to have dinner tomorrow?" I asked.

"Yes, if you'd like to," he answered immediately.

"I would."  We made plans, then I hung up and drove home.

Kinsley: Regrets

Lauren's post just isn't happening for me this week.  She's being stubborn :)  So instead, have some more Kinsley!  This post is super short (like, normal short, not just short for me), and I apologize for that!  I have a little bit more written, but it was a terrible place to cut it off.  I will post again tomorrow with the rest!
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I woke up early the next day--even before Damien's alarm went off.  I got up and threw together breakfast for both of us and made some coffee.  It was just starting to get chilly enough overnight for me to want to drink coffee again in the mornings.

Damien came down just a few minutes after I finished making breakfast.  "Good morning, beautiful," he said.  He walked over and kissed me on the cheek.  "Did you sleep?"

"I did," I replied, smiling over my shoulder at him.  "Do you have time for breakfast?"

"Yes, I think so," he said, glancing at his watch.  He grabbed plates and we sat down to eat.  Neither of us had a ton of time, so it wasn't exactly a leisurely breakfast, but it was a pleasant start to the day.  After we finished eating, Damien took a shower, got dressed, and left.  I got in the shower and got ready shortly after that, since I didn't have to be to work until after he did.  I even managed to get to work about 20 minutes earlier than usual, and I settled right into my tasks for the day.

I felt a whole lot better after a good night's sleep.  So much better, in fact, that regret for all my actions over the past 48 hours started to creep in.  I was mad at myself for making a scene at the hospital, mad at myself for allowing Damien to take care of me, and furious at myself for my sobbing, confessional meltdown.  I also regretted going to dinner at Damien's mom's house without him.  It felt too much like relying on someone else to make me happy, and that was not something I could afford to do.

I thought about it all day.  I tried to distract myself with work, and it kind of worked.  I ended up staying a couple extra hours to get some of the stuff done that I should have gotten done yesterday.

After work I went to the gym, spending a brutal two hours lifting weights and doing a spin class.  I could barely walk by the time I left, but I hadn't thought about anything more substantial than counting reps or how badly my muscles were burning for a solid 90 minutes.  I took a quick shower, then went to the grocery store, then home to clean and do laundry.  I kept myself busy enough that I didn't even look at my phone until after 10pm.  I saw I had a missed call from Damien, one from my dad, and two texts from Damien.

I called my dad first.  He told me that they had recommended my mom go to inpatient treatment, but she'd refused, so they'd gotten her registered with an outpatient treatment program and sent her home.  I have no idea why he knew all this, or why my mom didn't just call me herself.  "You should spend some more time with your mother, Kinsley," my dad lectured me before I could hurry him off the phone.

"Okay, Dad," I replied.  I wasn't in the mood to argue.

"I'm serious," he said.  "She's not doing well, and how would you feel if something happened and you had continued to ignore her?"

"How would she have felt if something had happened to me while she was busy sleeping in a Xanax-induced haze when I was 8 years old?" I asked in response.  "Better yet, how would you have felt?"

"Grow up, for God's sake!  Sometimes you're absolutely awful," he snapped before he hung up on me.

I opened my texts from Damien.  One was asking if I wanted to have dinner, and it had been sent just after 2 this afternoon.  The other was asking if I was okay, and was sent around 7.  I started to text him back that I was fine, just getting caught up on a few things around the house.  I was typing quickly when a call popped up on my screen, and I couldn't stop the momentum of my fast-moving fingers and accidentally stabbed the "Answer" button.  "Shit," I muttered to myself.  "Hello?"

"Kinsley?"  It was Damien, of course.  "Hey, I've been trying to reach you."

"I was just texting you back," I informed him.  "I'm fine.  I was super busy at work all day, and I've been running around trying to get my errands and cleaning caught up.  I didn't mean to make you worry."

"It's fine, I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing today."

"I'm fine," I chirped brightly.  Too brightly, and I cringed at how fake it sounded.

"Really?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes, really," I replied, moderating my tone a bit better.  "I just needed a good night's sleep."

"You sound weird," he said stubbornly.  "Why won't you just tell me how you really are?"

I sighed.  I didn't have the energy for this.  "I don't need you to fix me, Damien," I snapped.

"What?" he asked, sounding bewildered.  "I don't want to fix you.  I don't even think you need fixing!  Kinsley, what's going on?"

"Really?  I don't know, you seemed pretty eager to save the day."

"Don't do this," he said calmly, and I was once again irritated by it.  "You let yourself be vulnerable, but it's okay.  You don't have to deal with this shit by yourself, Kinsley."

"You are so fucking condescending," I growled.  "I'm not a child!  I don't need you to take care of me and validate my vulnerability.  I don't need your mom to send me home with food and dote on me.  I can take care of myself!"

"I know you can," he said.  "Kinsley, I'm having a really hard time understanding this.  If I did something wrong, tell me.  If you need something different from me, I want to know.  I don't want you to just shut this down because this weekend was hard."

"This weekend wasn't hard," I lied.  "And I don't need anything from you."

Damien was quiet for several long seconds.  "Okay," he said, finally.  "Then I misunderstood."

"Yes," I replied formally.  "You did.  Thanks for your concern though."

"Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow?"

"Hmm, no. Tomorrow is bad.  I have more errands to run and I really need to get my house clean.  I should probably go see my mother too. Maybe Thursday?"

"Yeah, okay," he agreed, sounding sad.  "Thursday."

"Maybe.  I'll let you know."

"Kinsley..." Damien started to say something, but he stopped himself.  "Okay, well...let me know.  Sleep well.  I love you."

"You too, and I love you too," I replied.  "Goodnight."

He paused, and I was getting ready to just hang up with he finally said, "Goodnight."

I hit the "end" button on the screen and squeezed my eyes shut.  I had no idea what I was doing, but I did know that I couldn't let myself lose control again like I had this weekend.

Kinsley: A Family that's Actually a Family

I stayed asleep until almost noon, then laid in bed playing on my phone until my stomach grumbled too much to be ignored.  I got up and had some more leftovers from the night before, then took a long, steaming hot shower.  Then, before I could think too much, I got in my car and drove to the hospital.  At the information desk, I found out my mom had been moved to a different floor and got directions.  I rode the elevator up, wondering what I was doing.

When I found her room, I stood quietly in the doorway until she noticed me.  When she saw me, her face registered surprise, then anger.  "Did you come to yell at me some more?" she snapped.

"No," I replied evenly.  "I came to spend some time with you.  I actually don't want to fight with you, I just want to hang out for a little while.  If you don't want me here, I'll go."

Her face softened and she nodded.  "Come in, then," she said.  I walked into the room and sat down in the uncomfortable chair next to the bed.  We looked at each other awkwardly before she asked me how work was going, and I was able to talk about that for awhile.

I stayed for 92 painful, awkward minutes.  My mom took every possible opportunity to throw in a passive-aggressive jab, but I maturely ignored them for the first time in my life.  I didn't feel any better after I left, but I didn't feel worse either.

When I got home, I curled up on the couch and put on a movie.  I dozed off and on while I watched, until my phone rang.  It was 5:30, and Damien was calling.  He told me that he would be at work for a few more hours, so he obviously wasn't going to be able to go to dinner with his family.  "Do you think it would be okay if I went anyway?" I asked impulsively.

"Well...yeah, I don't see why not," Damien said slowly.

I wasn't sure what his hesitation was, so I quickly said, "I won't if you don't want me to, I just thought..." I trailed off, not sure what exactly I thought.

"No, I'm completely okay with it, and I'm sure my mom would love to have you," he assured me. "I just don't want you to go out of obligation.  If you truly want to go, I think that's great and you should definitely go.  But if you're going because you feel bad about yesterday, that's different."

"I truly want to go," I insisted.  "I didn't go to work today, and I just need something normal tonight."

"Okay," he replied.  "I'll call my mom and let her know.  Are you going to head over now?"

"Yeah, in a few minutes."  I knew that they usually ate between 6 and 6:30.  I hung up and went upstairs to brush my hair and teeth.  I touched up my minimal makeup, then headed out.  While I was locking the door, I got a text from Damien that said, "My mom is thrilled you're coming without me.  Can I spend the night with you if I get done early enough?"  I texted back that he could, then got in my car and headed for his mom's house.

Claire greeted me at the door, pulling me into a tight hug.  "How's your mom, sweetheart?"

"She's going to be okay," I replied.  "Thank you for asking."

Claire held me out at arm's length and looked me up and down.  "You need a good meal and a good night's sleep.  Is my son not taking good care of you?  I'll tell him--"

I cut her off, laughing.  "He's been absolutely wonderful, Claire, I promise."

Satisfied, she nodded.  "Good.  He's always tried hard, but sometimes he just doesn't quite get it.  I'm glad to hear he's gotten it together.  Come in, love, let me get you something to drink."  She ushered me into the kitchen.

Adrienne, Damien's 24-year-old step sister, was sitting at the island, flipping through a magazine.  "Oh," she said, looking up and seeing me.  "I thought Damien wasn't coming."

"He's not," Claire responded.  "Kinsley came without him."

"Why?" Adrienne asked, frowning.

"Adrienne!" Claire scolded her.

Adrienne pouted.  "What?  I was just asking why.  She's never come here without him before.  I think it's a perfectly legitimate question."

I answered before the situation could get even more uncomfortable.  "I was looking forward to coming, and I didn't see a reason to cancel when Damien couldn't make it."

"Oh," Adrienne replied.  She looked at me blankly for a couple more seconds before shrugging and turning her attention back to her magazine.

"Sorry," Claire mouthed to me when we made eye contact.  I shrugged and smiled.

Luckily, Adrienne avoided conversation with me for the rest of the evening.  Dinner was amazing, and after the events of the weekend, it was nice to spend some time with a family that's actually a family.

I was helping Claire clear the dishes, despite her protests, when the front door opened and Damien came in.  "You're not supposed to be here either!" Adrienne said exasperatedly.  Damien just gave her a confused look and walked into the kitchen.

I was surprised when he stopped to kiss me before greeting his mom.  "Hi," he said softly.  "Sorry I couldn't make it for dinner."

I smiled.  "It's okay, we had a nice time without you."

His eyes scanned my face and then he cracked a smile and took the bowl out of my hands and brought it to the sink.  "Hi, Mom," he said, kissing her on the cheek.

"Do you need some food?  I can make you a plate," Claire responded.

He shook his head.  "No, thanks.  I ate at the office."

"You know," Claire replied, "I read an article on the internet about why you shouldn't eat at your desk."

"Oh, really?  You should forward it to me, it sounds interesting."  He winked at me over his mom's shoulder and I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

"I'll make you a plate anyway," she declared.  "You can take it with you.  Have it for lunch tomorrow.  If you're going to eat at your desk, at least you'll have a home cooked meal and not some fast food garbage.  Kinsley, I'll make you a plate too."

"Claire, that's so nice, but you really don't--"

"Hush," she replied.  "You're taking some food.  You don't need to worry about cooking when your mother is sick."

"Your mom is sick?" Adrienne asked, looking interested for the first time since I got there.

"None of your business," Claire chided her.

"You said it right in front of me!" Adrienne replied, huffing out a frustrated breath.

"Is there any dessert?" Damien asked, interrupting their spat.

Claire turned and looked at him, hands on her hips.  "Is there any dessert?  Are you my son?  You tell me, is there any dessert?"

"I misspoke," Damien amended.  "What I meant was: what's for dessert, and did I miss it?"

"You didn't miss it, and I threw together a clafoutis.  If you actually do something useful like help that darling girlfriend of yours clear the table, I'll get it ready."

"I would love to," he responded, grinning at me.  I smiled back.  I loved listening to him banter with his mom.  She reminded me of my childhood best friend's mom, a boisterous, loving Italian woman who was always shoving food at people.  Claire had definitely inherited similar qualities from her Italian mother, though it was tempered a bit, perhaps by her French father's genes and disposition.

"What would like me to do?" Damien asked, coming over to the table.

"Oh, you knock that right off!" Claire called from the other side of the kitchen.  "You have eyes.  You can see what needs to be done.  Kinsley, don't you let him pretend like he doesn't know how to clear a table."

"Busted," I said, smirking at Damien.  He just laughed and started collecting the silverware off the table.

We left about an hour later, after having dessert and chatting with Damien's mom and stepdad for a little while.  When we got outside, Damien asked if I still wanted him to spend the night.  I told him I did and we got in our cars and headed to my house.

Once we were home, Damien looked at me carefully.  "How are you?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I replied.

"How are you really, though?" he asked.  "You took the day off?"

"Yeah, I was exhausted.  I'm tired.  I...went to see my mom today."  He nodded but didn't say anything.  "It was weird.  She was angry at me, and we spent most of the time I was there just silently watching TV together.  I also spent a lot of time ignoring her digs at me."

"I'm sorry," Damien said.

I shrugged.  "I had to go.  I had to feel like I tried, you know?  Just because she wasn't there for me doesn't mean I shouldn't try to be there for her."

"Just because she's your mom doesn't mean you have to, though," Damien countered.  It was the most anti-family thing I'd ever heard him say.

"I know," I agreed.  "But it seemed important."

"And?"

"And I don't know.  I didn't feel much of anything, besides annoyed at how passive-aggressive she was being."

"That's okay," he said.

"It doesn't feel okay," I replied.  "I feel like I should feel something.  She's my mom."

"Biologically, you're right.  But it sounds like she certainly didn't act like one."

"She was sick.  Depressed.  I don't know.  I don't really want to talk about this anymore."  I was started to get anxious because I couldn't explain my feelings.

"I shouldn't have pushed," Damien said apologetically.

I shook my head.  "It's okay," I assured him.  "I wanted to talk about it.  Until I didn't.  Talking about my family is still really new to me."  I fidgeted and stood, then sat again quickly.  I racked my brain for something else to talk about but it wasn't working.

"Let's go for a walk," Damien suggested.

"A walk?  Now?  It's dark."

"So what?  It'll help."  Without responding, I got up and put on my shoes.  Damien followed me out the door, and we walked quietly down the sidewalk, our arms brushing occasionally.  I realized quickly that he was right and it was really calming walking in the dark.  It was quieter than during the day, and the darkness was soothing.  After we'd walked for about 10 minutes, I stepped a little closer to Damien and reached for his hand.  He took it without a word and we wound our fingers together.

"You know," Damien said, as we neared minute 20 of our quiet nighttime walk, "my mom really likes you."

"I really like your mom," I replied.  We fell back into silence and finished our walk as quietly as we started.  I appreciated that Damien could be quiet without feeling the need to fill the silence like most people do.

By the time we got back to my house, I was calm.  Probably the most calm I'd been since my shower after our run yesterday morning.  It was strange to think that just a couple months ago Damien did a great job of (inadvertently) making me feel like a crazy person for how I felt about my family (and family in general).  The past two days he'd done a great job making me feel less crazy.  I was relieved that he had gotten to witness some of my family drama firsthand, and that I had finally told him more about them.  I had also gotten a chance to appreciate his unshakeable calm for once.  Maybe I'd work on appreciating that more.

I glanced at the clock as we walked inside and was surprised to see it was after 10.  "You must be exhausted," I said to Damien.  "You were up so early."

"Yeah, it was a long day.  I'm pretty tired," he replied.  "In fact, if it's alright with you, I'm about ready for bed."

"I think that's a great idea," I agreed.  We brushed our teeth at the same time, then he went to get in bed while I washed my makeup off.

When I got back to my room, I found him laying in bed on his back with his phone out, scrolling through something.  He set the phone aside as I tugged my clothes off and climbed into bed, and I curled against his side with my head on his shoulder for our usual couple minutes of cuddling before I rolled back to my side of the bed to sleep.

It didn't take long for my eyelids to get heavy, and I said goodnight and rolled away from Damien, onto my side.  "Goodnight, Kinsley," he replied.  "I love you."

I barely got the words out in return before I was asleep.