Rage

Azalea. Dante straightened up in the armchair when I entered the TV room. His eyes flicked toward the clock on the wall, then back to me. “Why are you up this late? Are you aware that you have to be up early for your workouts?” “Painfully,” I sighed, slumping into the armchair next to him. Things seemed to have returned to what it was before he kissed me. At least, it seemed like it. He hadn’t mentioned it again, though he had his occasional flickers of jealousy. It was clear he didn’t want the other men near me, or me so much as look in their direction. But, in the same breath, he was all cold and distant. Admittedly, not overall. He’d been going above and beyond for me, but I wish he’d make up his mind. Not that I was one to talk. I couldn’t decide what I wanted either. Yes. I felt attracted to him, wanted him in all kinds of ways, but a bigger, smarter part of me knew maybe this arrangement was better. Maybe it was better if he kept me from everyone else, and him, too. I released an