dash

Over the past decade, I’ve received more than my fair share of death glares from women. Evie King might be the reigning champ, but I can count on one hand the amount of times she’s looked at me like this.

It’s never ended well.

She turns away from me slowly, whispering her regret dramatically to her overweight accomplice before she sets him back down beside the small mound of scraps she’d taken him from. Her voice as she promises to check on him soon is doting, but as she rises and squares her shoulders to face me, her features are anything but. I reach for her, honestly surprised she’s reacting so strongly, but she refuses my touch.

“Evie,” I start, but she ignores me and marches angrily toward my truck, slamming the door behind her in a fury.

We ride in silence, the only sound coming from within the truck the low hum of the radio. As we pull up to the apartment, I try to speak to her again, hoping the short ride has given her enough time to calm down. Instead, I’m met with her slipping from the cab before she slams the door shut a second time and stomps up the stairs.

“What do you want to eat?” I ask in an attempt to sway the conversation as I close the door behind us and we make our way inside, but I’m still met with silence. “Evie, I’m talking to you.”

“I hear you,” she admits, kicking her shoes off and setting her purse onto the table.

“Well, fuckin’ answer me then,” I insist irritably, my patience gone as I toss my keys onto the bar.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You were twenty minutes ago,” I argue as I head into the kitchen, pulling a beer from the fridge.

“Yeah? Well, I’m not now,” she huffs, discreetly wiping her cheek clean before taking a step toward me. “Can I have a bottle of water?”

“You know you don’t have to ask,” I toss my cap onto the counter and reach into the fridge, handing her one.

“Yeah, I thought I knew a lot of things twenty minutes ago,” she mumbles, shaking her head in frustration before she steps away from me.

I try to let it go, I really do, but her words cut deep and the next thing I know, I’m following her out of the kitchen.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she lies, still refusing to face me.

“Bullshit,” I argue, gently tugging at her arm and turning her to face me. “Say what you need to say.”

“I don’t need to say anything, Dash.”

“Obviously you do or you wouldn’t be acting all pissy and cryptic,” I call her out, crossing my arms. “So, let’s hear it. What’d you mean by that?”

“Fine. You wanna fight? Let’s fight, Dash,” she smirks, although it holds no humor. “What I meant by that is that you’re an asshole,” she spits out. “You’re fine when you’re getting your way and I’m all cute and fun, but the second I ask you for anything that won’t benefit your dick, you’re putting your foot down? What the fuck is that about?”

“Oh, really?” I laugh, eyes wide. “That’s your angle, huh? You’re just my poor, mistreated, peasant girlfriend and I’m an asshole who’s only happy when my dick’s wet? Did I miss anything?”

“That’s not what I said. Don’t twist my words.”

“That is what you said,” I counter. “And you can get as mad as you want, but we both know that’s bullshit.”

“Well, what the hell do you call it?”

“What do I call it?” I counter. “I call it you being a spoiled little princess who didn’t get her way, probably for the first time in her life, so now you’re throwing a fucking tantrum.”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum!” she argues, stamping her foot, proving my point.

“Well, if this ain’t a tantrum,” I raise my brow, gesturing toward her. “Then what the fuck is?”

“Oh, shut up!” she spits. “Dash, I asked you for help with something that mattered to me and not only did you laugh in my face, you wouldn’t even listen to what I had to say!”

“Well, maybe I would listen to you if the shit you were saying made a lick of sense,” I blurt, making her even madder. “I mean, Jesus. You’ve known about the fuckin’ cat for maybe thirty minutes your whole life, baby. How fucking deeply could you be affected by it?”

“Enough!” she shouts, fuming when I roll my eyes. “God! This is exactly what I’m saying, Dash! You’re so self-involved that you don’t even see it, do you?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“That might have just been a dingy stray to you, but he had no one. He had no home, no idea where his next meal was coming from,” she shrugs. “I mean, you said it yourself. He came from a family who probably loved him and look where he ended up. They just threw him out onto the streets for reasons he may not even understand. He’s just on his own,” she continues. “Any of that sound familiar?”

I stare at her for a second, the expression she’s wearing telling me her reasoning should be sound and obvious, but I still have no idea what she’s talking about.

“Not really.”

“Me, Dash! That cat is me!”

“Oh, my God,” I whisper, her words making me stop all movement as I rake my palm over my beard before shaking my head at her. “I was fucking with you all the times I accused you of it, but you actually are insane.”

“One more time,” she says low, her eyes slightly wild, her teeth gritting together as she takes a step closer. “Call me crazy one more time when I’m this angry, Dash and so help me Jesus…”

“Babe, I’m sorry, but do you hear yourself?” I ask. “You’re comparing yourself to a cat.”

“I know that.”

“Okay,” I start, giving her a subtle nod before turning to her. “Do you also know that you’re not…” Help me, Jesus. “Baby…”

“What?” she grounds out as she takes a seat on the edge of my chair.

“You’re not a fucking cat!”

“No shit, Sherlock! It’s a fucking metaphor, you idiot!” she insists. “My brother hates me right now, I’m a starving artist, not to mention, I’m practically homeless. The only difference between that cat and me is that he lives behind the bar of the guy I’m sleeping with. I am literally one circumstance away from ending up just like him!”

“Oh, come the fuck on, Evie. Don’t you think that’s a bit of a stretch?”

“No!”

“Baby, I spent ten bucks on a coffee and a fuckin’ scone for your spoiled little ass this morning right after you conned me out of sixty bucks for a manicure that, I gotta be honest, looks exactly the same as it did before you left the house,” I deadpan as I fall into the cushions across from her. “You’re hardly in line for a reality show.”

“Whatever, you don’t get it. I’m going to bed,” she sighs, shaking her head and lifting from her spot in my recliner. “While I still have one.”

With her words, I can’t help but roll my eyes at her theatrics. I’m about to blow the whole thing off as another stupid argument until I see her swiping at her cheeks on her way passed me when she thinks I’m not looking.

“Evie…” I sigh, glancing up at her and setting my beer down on the table beside me when I see her tremble slightly from the silent tears she’s trying so hard to hide. “Baby, stop for a second and listen to me.”

“What?”

“Come here,” I say, winding my arm around her waist and pulling her reluctant frame into my lap. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” I sigh, taking in her silence. “Baby, why don’t you talk to me about any of this shit?”

“Because it doesn’t matter,” she shrugs, folding her arms. “I mean, would it have made any difference?”

“Well, I still don’t want a fuckin’ cat, but it matters to me when you feel like shit,” I say bluntly as I rest my head against the back of the couch, studying her, frustrated when her expression barely shifts. “Baby, I know I suck at this shit and you’re pissed, but…”

“What?” she cuts me off, still refusing to face me. “What do you want me to do?”

“Talk to me, look at me, give me something,” I insist. “I’m pouring my heart out over here and you still look like you’re plotting my ‘unfortunate accident.’”

“Oh, grow up. I wouldn’t kill you,” she rolls her eyes, finally facing me. “I can’t now. People know we’re together. I’d be the first suspect.”

“Gee, thanks,” I deadpan before giving her ass a gentle, playful smack. “Come here,” I pull her closer, wrapping my arms around her still frame before tucking her into my chest. “I promise you won’t end up like the cat,” I press my lips to her hair. “Mason will calm down in a few days. Even if I’m wrong and he’s mad at us forever and you dump my sorry ass tomorrow, I would never let that happen to you, okay?”

“Thanks,” she replies, my words making her relax slightly, but the sadness in her voice can’t be missed.

“Still love me?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure you mean that?” I arch my brow. “Or am I gonna wake up with you holding a pillow over my face in a couple of hours?”

“Don’t worry. I’m too tired to keep arguing or hide evidence, so you’re safe,” she promises quietly, her voice still holding an edge. “We said what we needed to say. I know you didn’t mean to be an asshole. Apparently, it’s just your gift,” she blurts, squirming out of my hold, cutting me off when I start to say something. “I’ll get over it, I just don’t want to look at you or talk to you for a few minutes.”

“Fine,” I sigh, releasing her and watching her slip down the hallway. “I tried.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely tryin’ me,” she mutters, slamming my door before the beer even hits my tongue again, making me pause mid-sip.

“Oh, my God,” I grumble, taking a long pull from the bottle before setting it down onto the table in front of me. “‘Get a girlfriend,’ they said. ‘It’ll be fun,’ they said,” I shake my head. “That blew up in my fuckin’ face.”