Because Of Love

Just as they had agreed, they spent their days after work chilling on the sofa, watching TV and reading books. She read her new collection of romance books on her E-reader while he read what she could only assume were biographies and autobiographies, as he was very secretive about his iPad, the reticent businessman. Despite the crazy urge to jump each other’s bones, Talia patted herself on the back for the restraint they showed. She wasn’t going to lie, there were times, like when she would feel his erection pressed against her hip in the early mornings, because, thanks to having just one room and the couch that couldn’t comfortably fit even half his body, they were forced to share a bed, she felt the temptation like the searing of a branding rode against her skin. But especially those moments when he would walk out of the bedroom to the living room, freshly showered to grab a cup of coffee from the kitchen, steam rising off his body, the towel slung lower around his hips. She questioned the reason she set the no sex rule. And of course, her own sanity. But, in the pursuit to protect her heart, she kept herself from licking those drips off water like a melting Popsicle.

This wasn’t just a one objective mission. Talia was determined to help him get over his anxiety and panic disorder. The first thing she did was set the rule that work remained at work. Rafe couldn’t bring work home, nor work over time past a two hour limit. He’d laughed at that, not taking her seriously, that was until the day she turned off the power to her apartment from the fuse box in the basement.

“You did something to the power,” he said the moment she walked into the dark apartment, nothing but the torch on his phone beamed light.

“Prove it,” she’d returned bullishly, strutting to her bedroom.

“My phone and laptop are dying. I need to charge them,” he called after her.

She turned at the bedroom door and said, with a sweet smile she was sure he could see as he had beamed the light on her face. “It can wait till morning. What can’t wait, is the food on the table.”

He cursed silently, turning to the table that now only had his plate of untouched food on. She’d cleared it while he was fixated on his laptop. No matter how much noise she made banging dishes, he never lifted his head once. She scoffed, that would teach him to ignore her hard work. She wasn’t his wife, or girlfriend, but she cooked for him and he ignored it because of work.

“Could I at least microwave the food?”Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

“Nope,” she said in a sing-song voice, spinning on her heels, and two-stepped to her bed. It was an early night for her but, revenge was sweet and served cold, pun intended.

The very next day it was round two in their fight to stop him from overworking himself. The mission, no over time. Two hours after quitting time, she’d gone to his office and alerted him of the time. He ignored her, most definitely peeved at the night before blackout and cold dinner. So she grabbed his laptop and ran off with it. He followed her home, and like a two year old on the verge of a tantrum, stomped around the apartment, banging doors, including the refrigerator’s until the guy who lived directly below her knocked on the door. When she looked through the peeping hole to see who it was, remembering that he had once asked her out, she quickly changed into a hugging tank top and cotton short shorts and answered the door. Talia chuckled softly to herself. Rafe quickly apologized to the ogling man and had been light footed ever since. Since that night, he’d followed that rule too. The man was smart enough not to go for a hat trick loss.

There was one thing that she wished he would open up and talk to her about. Since that revelation, the morning after his surprise visit, he hadn’t said a word as to what exactly was causing his anxiety and panic attacks. No matter how much she broached the subject, the man just wouldn’t speak. It was inconsequential, he would say. When she would ask about his family, he only told her things that Google already knew. Nothing personal, nothing intimate, and that scared her. She knew when his birthday was, his favorite hobbies, even his school antics, they laughed out loud about some of those stories, but every time they approached the front door of his childhood home, she would be stopped short and the resounding sound of the lock being turned would fill the air. She couldn’t help but wonder, was he drawing a line in the sand that she wasn’t allowed to cross? Why was he keeping her at a distance? The teenage girl with a crush in her wanted to launch an all-out online dig on his family, but the adult in her who wanted to trust kept her away. She could only hope-it was wrong but for her peace of mind and the selfish need to not ruin what they had and might have in the future, she hoped his issues stemmed from his family. When he was ready, he would tell her and they would deal with it as more than just roomies then. Maybe. Hopefully.

A loud sound from the TV pulled her back to the present, then a crunching sound drew her attention to the couch and she groaned with a tired shake of her head. It still baffled her how quickly Rafe went from one end of the spectrum to the other.

Talia stood by her kitchen counter and stared at Rafe, laying on the couch, head on the throw pillow over the arm, one thick calf on the other arm of the two seater, while the other leg was balancing on the heel of his foot on the carpeted floor. In nothing but grey sweatpants and loosely fitting tee shirt she recently discovered was an extra, extra large size-the dude was huge-she couldn’t help but wonder, how?

How had this happened to him?

Gone was the heartthrob most eligible bachelor and in his place, the bum cousin who got kicked out of his momma’s house for playing video games all day instead of looking for a job.

Rafe’s hand reached into the Dorito bag on the coffee table in front of him, while the other combed back his loose hair that had grown to chin length, tucking the strands behind his ear for what should be the third time in the fifteen minutes she had spent watching him, stupefied. She wondered if someone had swapped his soul with a sloth’s. Gone was image one, two and three that fitted her 50 Shades desires, and there on the couch, watching a Korean drama-no subtitles, impressive but besides’ the point-was image number four, every woman’s worst nightmare. The man had been the slob king of her living room for the third weekend straight in the six weeks since they became roomies.