He stood in the middle of the room and looked around him
silently, hands on hips.
I waited, my right leg tapping impatiently. What was he
thinking? Why wasn’t he saying anything? When I couldn’t stand the silence any
longer, I blurted out, “Well? Are you going to tell me you hate it?”
He spun around to face me, disapproval etching his
features. “I was admiring your artwork, Amy. You’re very talented.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
I shifted, embarrassed, and then walked over to my
dresser to pull out some clothes. Dallon approached one of my acrylic
paintings, an abstract piece, and tilted his head to the side as he studied it.
“I’m just going to change in the bathroom.”
He made a noise like he only half heard me. He had moved
on to my next piece.
My place really was disappointing compared to his. The
bathroom was super tiny, and I bonked my elbows multiple times while changing.
When I emerged, freshly changed in a light sundress and sandals, he was looking
at a collage of photographs I’d made as part of my final portfolio. They were
pictures of me over the years.
“I wanted to cover all the walls, so I put up almost
everything,” I explained.
“I love it,” he whispered.
“It was requirement of my final project for my degree.”
“Don’t be embarrassed. I like seeing them all… It’s a
snapshot of your life.”
There was an amused cough and we turned to see Simon
Jenks, my asshole neighbor, standing beside my broken door. He was wearing his
usual backwards baseball cap and dirty coveralls and, as usual, he was half
cut.
I rolled my eyes. Of all the things to happen today.
“So you do have a boyfriend, and here I thought you were
lying to me,” Simon slurred, leaning against my door jamb.
Dallon crossed his arms. “Who are you and what do you
want?”
“Nothing, man.” Simon held up his hands in a mock
defensive gesture, laughing softly to himself. It sounded like a mixture
between a deranged snicker and a hiccup. “I was just saying your bitch isn’t a
prude after all.”
Dallon marched forward, but I grabbed the back of his
shirt, momentarily distracting him. Then Simon was gone, his laughter cut off
by his door slamming shut.
Dallon turned on me. “What was that about?”
“Nothing. Just my neighbor Simon.”
He continued to glare at me. “He called you a prude. Did
he try something?”
I bit my lip. “No.”
“The truth, Amy,” he said in a low voice.
“He tried to make a move on me one night,” I admitted
with a sigh. “He’s an idiot. A drunken idiot.”
Dallon marched over to my picture collage, pulled it off
the wall.
“Hey!” I cried out in surprise. I didn’t really mind if
he wanted to keep it, but asking would have been nice.
“What do you carry these in?” he asked, looking around.
He found my portfolio case and opened it on the bed.
It was then that I realized what he was doing—he was
packing me up.
“Wait,” I said, reaching out to touch his arm. “Dallon,
I’m not moving in with you.”
He tensed under my touch. “You can’t stay here.”
I dropped my hand. “So you do hate it.”
“I don’t hate it. I couldn’t hate it; it’s covered in
you. But I can’t let you continue living here. Your door is broken, who knows
when your landlord will be able to fix it, and some asshole is lurking in the
hallways.”
I felt myself tearing up, even though I knew it wasn’t
personal, that he was only concerned about me. “I told you, it’s temporary. I
can call Bran right now.”
I pulled out my phone, but Dallon continued taking down
my art as if he hadn’t heard me.
“Stop!” Frustrated tears ran down my cheeks.
Dallon exhaled with frustration, but he held up his
hands before turning around. With a tense jaw, he leaned against the wall,
crossed his arms and waited.
“Don’t you see that I want to be equal to you?” I asked
after a moment.
“How can you be equal to me, Amy? You’re seven years my
junior. Stop comparing where you are now with me. New York is an expensive city
and it’s hard to get a foothold. Even if you stay here instead of living with
me, you won’t be living equally.”
“But I’ll have something that’s my own.”
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “There is
no crime in letting someone else help you. If you could stop trying to control
everything and relax, you might realize that.”
“You’re talking to me about control? This entire idea is
based on your need for control!”
He narrowed his eyes. “I never said that. Not wanting
you to work at Mix, yes. This is different.”
“Right. You didn’t even want to date me until I said I
was going to work at Mix. You just wanted to have a
say
.”
He cocked his head to the side. “And why would I want to
have a say exactly?”
“Because you’re controlling!”
“Because I care about you, Amy.”
I just glared at him until he shook his head and looked
at the ceiling, hands balled into fists.
“Enough. I’m not going to continue
discussing
this with you. You’re coming home with me.” He turned and yanked my drawers out
of the dresser. “Pack up.”
I didn’t move. “No.”
He straightened and gave me a look that sent shivers
down my spine.
“This is ridiculous. He’s harmless!”
Suddenly Dallon was in front of me, looking down at me
with blue eyes turned black. It looked like his pupils were completely dilated.
“I said
pack
, Amy. He might seem harmless to you,
but I’m not waiting around to find out. I’m putting my foot down.”
I stared up at him, my chest rising and falling rapidly.
Still, I didn’t move.
“You don’t want to anger me right now. Do you understand
what I’m saying? Pack. Up.”
“What are you going to do, spank me again?” I whispered.
His eyes glinted for a moment. “It’s not a bad idea. But
I could do worse; I could call your mom. Last number you received, right?”
My mouth fell open. I couldn’t believe he’d just used
his present against me, and I’d had it less than a day! Furious, I stormed over
to the closet and yanked out my suitcase. I began throwing clothes in, not
caring if they got wrinkled or didn’t fit.
“Leave the artwork,” I snapped. “I’m only coming with
you until I get the door fixed. In fact, I’ll call him right now and see how
long it will take.”
I pulled out my iPhone and shot Dallon a smug smile,
which he returned, crossing his arms.
“Hey Bran, it’s Amy—I live in 404? I just tried to get
into my apartment and the door broke. Do you know when you can have it fixed?”
Before Bran could respond, the iPhone was snatched from
my hand and Dallon began talking rapidly.
“Bran? Dallon King, Amy’s boyfriend.” I charged him but
he put an arm out, holding me back. “Look she’s going to move out. We’ll pay
next month’s rent, okay man?”
“Dallon!” I hissed. I wanted to yell but the idea of
Bran hearing me in the background just made me more mortified. “Seriously, stop
it. I’m not kidding.”
“I don’t if she signed a lease,” Dallon continued,
looking me with narrowed eyes. “The living conditions are terrible and you know
it. Her drunken neighbor just made some disgusting comments and she told me
he’s harassed her—do you want a sexual assault case in your future?”
My blood ran cold at those two words. Here he was trying
to protect me, and it was too late.
Having apparently received his desired response, Dallon
hung up and held the phone out to me, smiling smugly.
“I don’t want it anymore,” I muttered, looking away.
Angry tears blurred my vision. From the corner of my eye, I saw Dallon hesitate
before slipping the phone into his pocket.
“Finish packing and I’ll come back for the bed,” he said
softly. “For now, you can stay in my guest bedroom. Somehow I doubt you’ll want
to stay with me.”
He was right about that.
I only had a total of two suitcases and my artwork, so
it didn’t take long. Dallon picked up the suitcases and handed me my portfolio.
I took it without meeting his eyes and followed him down the stairs to his car.
We packed everything into his trunk in silence, and then Dallon went back up to
get my paintings, which he very carefully and reverently arranged in the
backseat. In my present state, the gesture just served to anger me more.
“I don’t want to go for dinner,” I said when we were
driving out of Brooklyn.
He nodded almost imperceptibly, his eyes never leaving
the road. I turned away from him, watching the world go by outside the car
window and wondering if he’d planned this all along.
Dallon was right; he always got what he wanted.
“Do you want me to put
these in the empty room? We can still make it your studio.” Dallon’s voice
sounded hopeful, and my heart clenched slightly.
Don’t fall for it
, I told myself.
Feeling pity for him was probably part of his master plan.
“Just put them over
there,” I said and pointed to a corner of the guestroom.
He carried them over
and then leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets. “Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“I’m going to order
takeout. I’ll order for you as well, and if you don’t come out, I’ll put it in
the fridge.”
I didn’t respond, just
continued unpacking my clothes. He leaned forward and gently placed my iPhone
on top of the dresser. “You’re going to need this in case someone calls about
your application.”
I hadn’t thought of
that. Still, I made no move to acknowledge the gesture.
He cleared his throat.
“I took down your landlord’s number and will make arrangements to pay your last
month’s rent. It’s not fair you to pay it.”
Clenching my jaw, I
looked away.
“I want you to be
happy here,” he said softly before closing the door behind him.
When he was gone, I
sat down on the bed and put my head in my hands. I knew I was being a bit of a
jerk considering my door had broken. It was obvious that he cared about me, but
I couldn’t shake the fear that he’d have me move in and eventually get bored
with me, and I would be left shattered. Nothing about our relationship so far
had been normal.
I picked up my new
iPhone, wondering how Sam was doing and whether or not I should tell her about
my new living arrangement. I decided against telling her; it wasn’t like she
would stop by my old place for a visit and find out. What my friends and family
didn’t know couldn’t hurt them. Instead, I just sent her a text with my new
number and told her my old phone had finally died. Then I finished putting my
stuff away in the closet and dresser, changed into pajama pants and crawled
under the covers of my new bed.
When I awoke, it was
dark outside the window. I grappled around for my phone in the dark. Almost 8
p.m. I’d slept for a good two hours.
I was famished.
I rolled out of bed
and turned on the light, rummaged through the closet and pulled on a long
sleeved shirt. It was then that I wondered what Dallon was up to. Had he gone
out after dinner?
Suddenly feeling a
little anxious, I opened the door and walked to the railing that looked down into
the living room and kitchen. I could see Dallon watching TV just the way I’d
imagined him doing the week before, a fire in the fireplace and his long legs
stretched out onto the coffee table in front of him.
I descended the
staircase and entered the living room.
“I was wondering when
you would emerge. Nice PJs,” he added, the side of his turning up.
I’d been fingering the
pants tie and instantly let go.
“Do you have something
to say?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Do
you
?” I
countered.
His lip twitched. “I’m
sorry for forcing you to move out of your dangerous apartment and come stay
with me.”
“You threatened to
call my mother!”
“But I didn’t.”
“No, instead you
bullied my landlord into ending my lease early.”
“You’re right, I’m a
dick.”
“You
are
a
dick.”
He stood up and
sauntered over, stopped directly in front of me so he was looking down at me.
There was less than a foot between us. I continued to maintain eye contact,
refusing to back down.
“If I had to another
chance, I’d do the exact same thing.” His voice was soft but forceful, his eyes
looking intensely into mine. “Because when it comes to your safety, I’m always
going to do what I think is right. Even if it makes you hate me.”