Grace (The ‘Hello’ series)

1. Chapter 1

one

L ove is complicated. I don’t know what else to think about it. I push and try to give Bash what he needs from me as I don’t want to lose him. But sometimes I’m lost. Lost when he screams at me, like he’s doing now.

“It’s like you don’t actually care about me!” Sebastian yells as he edges closer. “I do so much for you, take care of so much, and I swear, it doesn’t mean shit to you.”

I have no idea how we’ve gotten into this fight. It all started with an in-date. Just Netflix, take-out food, and cuddling, and somehow, we’ve gotten to yelling. Granted, I did notice he was getting more and more daring during the movie, that his fingers trailed over my bare thighs, curling under the hem of my shorts. I knew what he wanted, but I…

“I don’t?” I whisper. “What are you talking about? Of course I appreciate you. We’ve been together for more than a year. I wouldn’t still be here if I didn’t—”

“You sure as hell don’t show it, Grace.” He snorts. “Seriously. I’ve done so much for you, and all I get—”

“I cook dinner every night. I clean,” I say while tugging on my ponytail, curling my red hair around my fingers. “We go on dates. I get you things that remind me of you, and I’ve suggested we try new things. Of course you matter, and the things you do for me matter—”

“Bullshit,” Sebastian grits, turning his intense, dark eyes on me. “It’s all bullshit. It’s like you have one foot out of this relationship and have since the start! I was the one who made us official. I was the one who insisted on meeting your parents. And I’m always the one who pushes for us to have sex.”

I blink at him, then look to the side, my shoulders dropping.

“It’s not like we’re teenagers!” he continues, pacing in front of me with long steps that match his tall frame. “God, dating you lately is like having a middle school relationship. The occasional kiss, some giggling, cuddling, hand holding, and dates where I half expect someone is watching us because you don’t touch me!”

“Bash…” My voice is a weak whisper.

“Don’t you start that,” he hisses, finally facing me head on.

I glance away, as I hate having so much anger and venom focused on me. My body trembles as I want to hide, to escape. How has our relationship turned into this? We used to be happy, have conversations, understand each other. How has that twisted into yelling and passive aggressive comments?

“Do you even want to fuck me? Ever? Or do you just lie there and take it after saying no a certain number of times?” he spits, and my ribs tighten. Shame crawls under my skin as my eyes water.

It’s not that I don’t want to. I just… I’m never in the mood. It feels too intimate, and I always feel like I’m doing something wrong. I don’t know where my hands are supposed to go, when I’m supposed to moan, how to initiate. It’s not like I haven’t tried.

I’ve tried to figure it out, but I’m just not really interested in it. I don’t get the same pleasure out of it as other people do. I’ve talked to my friends, and they say that I need to learn to please myself first, but there’s just so much else to do in life. I have work, I love cooking, I talk to Bash about his day every day. I keep up with my family, with my friends.

Why is sex all that matters?

“Answer me, Grace!”

“I just feel awkward!” I finally spit out.

“Having sex with your boyfriend makes you feel awkward? Clearly, it’s that you don’t trust me or you’re cheating on me.”

I gape at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, you’ve always worked from home until you were let go two weeks ago. You could have someone else. Prove you don’t. Prove you want me, that you love me like you say you do,” he demands, flinging off his shirt.

My mouth opens and closes, and I draw back to get off the bed. Sebastian watches me with hard, angry eyes and huffs. “That’s what I thought.”

“I’m not cheating on you. I wouldn’t do that,” I whisper.

“Because who would want you? Do you know how often my friends say I can do better? You’re so small and delicate. God. Why did I stay for this long?” He sighs while pulling his shirt back on.

“What… what do you mean? Are you going to…?” I stammer.

“We’re done. You clearly won’t or can’t give me what I need, and I’m tired of doing all the work to get it out of you!” He sneers. “Seriously.”

I’m frozen. My hands are midair as no words leave me. I can’t even make myself go to him and beg him to stay. What’s the point? I’m not good enough.

Sliding down the wall, I hear him bang the door while yelling, cursing that I won’t even fight for him. The slam of the door echoes through my whole body, and I flinch away.

Sebastian has always been a good boyfriend. He’s told me how he’s had to defend our relationship and me to his friends. He’s told me when my friends were flirting with him behind my back. He’s supported my dreams, and he even got me the interview at his dad’s office before I blow through my savings.

I didn’t realize I wasn’t pulling my weight, that I was such a bad girlfriend. He never said I was. He used to cook with me in the kitchen when he could tell I was tired. We’d laugh and have fun. We could tease each other and do everything together without sex coming up.

And we have had sex. Just because it’s once every two weeks or so doesn’t mean it doesn’t count. Just because I’m not loud and I don’t want to try to use toys with him or put on a whole show or things like that doesn’t mean I don’t please him. He comes every time, while I… don’t.

“I don’t understand,” I whisper to myself as the tears dry on my cheeks.

I crawl up, pushing myself to my feet, and saunter into the bathroom. I tuck my fiery red hair behind my ears and glance in the mirror. Freckles dot my face, especially my cheeks and my left temple, and I don’t have any makeup on.

Is this what Bash meant about not putting in effort? About not taking initiative when it comes to sex? About saying no when his hand curls around the back of my neck and he nudges me down to his cock? Maybe we were doomed. Maybe this wasn’t how a relationship should have been.

My shoulders slump, and a sigh falls as I peel the clothes off my body and slide into the shower.

I don’t want to think about Bash or his harsh words. Perhaps he’ll come back…

The cold water falls over my body, and I can’t even care about it, waiting in the stream until it slowly heats.

No more tears as I’ll be splotchy and have a red nose like Rudolf the reindeer if I’m not careful. I can’t have that when I start my new job tomorrow.

I’ll make sure I’m perfect for work. I can’t lose my boyfriend and my new job in back to back days. As it is, I’m sure he’ll move out, and then I’ll have to get a new roommate just to make sure ends meet, and I’m not exactly thrilled with the idea of sharing space with a stranger.

But I’ll be okay.

“Tomorrow has to be better,” I mumble.