"we fell in love the way you fall in leaves."
Juwan "Rocky" Rockwell has had a pretty hard life. Between trying to find a way to fend for himself and dealing with the normal hardships of teenage angst, he had nowhere to turn as an adolescent and no...
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"emptied pockets"
"You don't think you're moving too fast?" Sweets asked as we sat and ate ice cream. "Mm-mm," I shook my head, letting my spoonful of ice cream melt in my mouth. "Okay," she said.
I knew that she had more to say, but I wasn't going to push it if she wasn't going to say it on her own. I figured that her and Keisha would be a little apprehensive about me moving in with Juwan so hastily, but I also figured that I was an adult and I can do whatever I want to.
I mean— we're in love. Everybody else isn't a factor when it comes to what's best for us. What matters is that he makes it home to me every night. What matters is that we still are sprung on one another.
Things haven't been all gravy since I've moved in. . . Honestly, it's been anything but. . . but I see it as us just adjusting to our situation. Now, it seems that we argue over the dumbest shit. I knew I had a tendency to find a problem when there was none, but Juwan was just as petty. He'd make a point to address me every time I moved something or touched anything.
Like, the other day, I wanted to straighten up his desk. I got tired of looking at it be an unorganized mess. So, I straightened up his brushes and put them in a cup. I did the same with the pencils he'd sketch with and proceeded to line up all of his colored pencils and painting palettes. I didn't want to touch any of his actual work because I knew he'd certainly throw a fit, if I was touching pieces that weren't finished yet. He didn't even want me to see anything while it was still incomplete, so I knew better. . . However, when he confronted me about his pencils and other utensils, I was thrown for a loop.
That argument went from art supplies to his tone and how he was speaking to me. From there, he insinuated that I was a brat, and that's when I started to go off on him. Our argument went from shouting to moaning, the intensity of our love-making increasing significantly since we were both angry. I started to think he picked a fight with me just so he could have an excuse to give me some act-right. I didn't mind it though. I often fantasized about him talking shit in my ear while I struggled to keep an arch in my back, and now, it was coming to fruition.
But not every little debate we had ended in sex. They'd usually end with us creating distance and silence between one another. It wasn't always the most productive way to resolve an issue, but space was needed sometimes. Even besides that, we'd end up cuddled up before the end of the night.
Going to sleep angry just didn't sit well with me, and I made it a point to kiss him before bed every night, whether I was holding a grudge or not. I still love him, and I wanted him to go to sleep knowing that.
I figured that once we adjusted to cohabitating, we'd be alright.
"Well, I think you're moving too fast," Keisha voiced while scooping her chocolate ice cream. "Well, I didn't ask for your opinion," I smiled with the shake of my head. Sweets and Key both chuckled.
