The Detective and Her Bachelor

Chapter 16

Have you ever had such a tense conversation that it left you internally screaming? It left you wanting to pummel the other person, hoping that fists would make them understand what words apparently couldn't. Decker was the punching bag I desperately wanted to hit. 

Decker looked happy. Too happy for my tastes. Like the whole idea that I was stuck having him in an earpiece, getting to talk my ear off with unnecessary commentary about my fake love life was the BEST news in the world. 

"Now who's treating this like a game?" I said into the silence, sliding off the kitchen countertop in Decker's home and walking towards him, itching to slap that stupid smug smirk off Decker's face. He had the common sense to take a single step back, registering the anger in my eyes. 

"You want us to act like a team? You want me to trust you?" I poked my finger against his broad chest, eyes threatening death. "Then stop acting like your sudden ability to monologue in my earpiece is a freaking carnival game that you are itching to exploit." 

I barreled on, angry that every part of my life felt like a game. Angry that a conversation with Decker just felt like an extension of the reality tv show hell I was currently trapped in. "Your goal should be to make me feel more comfortable. Not like the focus of a prank I can't escape." 

I crossed my arms, hating that anger could so easily evaporate into tears. Hating that certain types of anger were roaring infernos that burned bright and fast before leaving behind nothing but fragile structures. I had stumbled into that 'angry crying' terrain that would make me look broken and desperately tried to back peddle. I needed to wrap myself in anger before tears could showcase a weaker side.

Stupid Decker. Stupid lack of sleep. Stupid everything! 

I had to blink far too many times to keep the tears locked inside. Decker and I had clashed words dozens of times. Each getting in hard hits, but he had never quite gotten under my skin, into the soft parts of me before. 

Decker's entire demeanor changed going from amused to surprised as he watched me. Which only made it worse. I felt utterly alone, and he could see it all over my face. The raw reality made me feel too vulnerable. Too easily exploitable. 

I could normally go home to recharge after a long day, and the lack of a safe place was pulling at the internal reserves of strength I had. I forced myself to breathe, locking my fists into my pockets so I couldn't lash out. "I have nothing to hide Decker. You've already been listening to all of my conversations with the first earpiece you gave me."

"I'm—"

I cut Decker off, hating the look of pity he gave me. Like I suddenly didn't have the tenacity to keep up with him in a verbal spar. I turned away, plucking up the bag he had offered with the new updated earpiece. I didn't want to see his face. "Don't apologize. I want an ally, not a pity party." 

"It's not pity. Look again." 

"Why?" I asked glaring down at the stupid bag of supplies that had started this stupid train of unnecessary feelings of isolation on my part. 

"Delle."

"So you can just school your features? You have the best poker face on your team, Decker!"

"Delle—"

 If this was a show with all-male contestants you would have been the ideal choice! But you are stuck with me!"

"Delle!"

"What?" I snapped spinning around. 

Decker had moved closer, hands in his acid-washed jean pockets as he looked at me. "Read me."