Chapter 3
"You know Olivia's terrified of the dark! Why would you make her wait there alone just so I could drive you home? Didn't I just buy you a new wedding dress? Why are you getting jealous at a time like this?" Waylon snapped.
"I'm not jealous," I said, unfazed.
"It's pitch dark and there are no taxis around. I can't get home by myself, especially after that knife robbery two months ago..." I explained, trying to keep my cool.
"Waylon!" Olivia suddenly burst into tears, her voice trembling. "I'm scared!"
Waylon's breathing was ragged as he wrenched open my car door and unbuckled my seatbelt with a sharp click.
"You're getting more and more out of line. Get out and cool off!" he snapped.
With that, the car sped off, leaving me standing there in the dark.
He hadn't even given me a chance to change before we left, so all I had to keep warm was my coat.
The freezing winter wind cut right through me, and I couldn't help but shiver.
In the end, my best friend Iris Calhoun came all the way out to this pitch-black alley with no streetlights just to pick me up.
"Are you serious? There was a murder here not long ago, and he just dumped you in this alley?" Iris snapped as she drove, her voice full of outrage.
"Don't be mad, Iris," I said, snuggling into the blanket she'd brought me and sneezing.
I pulled out my phone and saw that Olivia had just posted something.
She was wrapped up in a Hello Kitty blanket, snuggled up to Waylon, who seemed to be asleep. Her eyes were bright and lively.
Her post read: [Thank you, my hero. You're always the one standing right behind me whenever I look back.]
I showed the post to Iris.
"See? Her blanket isn't as nice as yours," I said.
Iris looked surprised for a moment.
I'd broken down over Waylon so many times before. She probably thought she'd be up all night comforting me again. But this time, I was the one cracking jokes.
She paused, then scoffed and burst out laughing.
"Obviously! Who do you think this belongs to?" she said with a grin.
I was munching on a midnight snack when Waylon walked in.
He stopped short, seeing there was only one bowl of tomato and egg pasta on the table.
"You didn't make any for me?" Waylon frowned.
I popped the last bite into my mouth.
"If you're hungry, go find something yourself," I said.
Then I picked up my tableware and walked right past him.
He couldn't hide his shock.
I always saved him some food, no matter how heated our arguments were.
And this time, he even came back home after our fight.
He stood there, looking clearly annoyed at me.
I knew he was just waiting for me to come over and make things right.
But I just cleaned up my tableware and walked straight to the bedroom, not even looking his way.
Waylon grabbed my wrist, frustration in his voice. "Can you quit the drama?
"Olivia's been scared of the dark since she was little. If I'd shown up any later, she would've freaked out.
"You're just pissed I left you out there, aren't you? It's not even that far from home, and you're 5'9". Who's gonna mess with you? Olivia's this tiny girl; she obviously needed me more. I was just trying to help her..."
"You've known her since you were kids. Of course you had to help her, right?" I cut him off, finishing his thought for him.
Waylon just stood there, lost for words.
I ignored him, went straight to the bedroom, got into bed, and closed my eyes. Sleep hit me in waves before I even realized it.
Half-asleep, I felt someone slip in behind me.
"Don't move," Waylon murmured.
I grabbed his hand at my waist and said, "I don't want to."
He stiffened for a moment, then held me tighter.
"Taylor, it's been so long..." Waylon whispered, but I interrupted him.
"I really don't want to." I cut him off.
"Taylor!" Waylon snapped. "You used to beg me to touch you! We're about to get married. Why are you acting all distant now?"
I pressed my fingers to my forehead.
"Waylon, I'm just too tired. Can you quit it?" I said, my tone weary.
He went rigid behind me for a second.
That was the same excuse he'd thrown at me countless times before.
The room sank into a weird silence. I turned back to look at him.
"Anything else?" I said, my voice flat.
"You..." Waylon started, but couldn't finish.
I just stared at him, quietly waiting for him to go on.
I looked so calm and cold.
That was always his way, never mine.
Whenever he was too exhausted to touch me after running around for Olivia, I'd throw a tantrum, yell, and make a scene. He'd just sit there, watching me with that icy stare, waiting for me to wear myself out.
Then, when I finally quieted down, he'd say in that same flat tone, "Done yet? Anything else? If not, just go to sleep."
Every time, he'd drift off without a care, leaving me alone, crying until morning.
The next day, when he saw my red, swollen eyes, he'd just give me that careless grin and ruffle my hair.
"Seriously? You're making a big deal out of nothing," he'd say.