Heart In A Cage

05

Isabella

"Would you mind removing your shirt? I'd been fairly uncomfortable throughout the whole night." A raspy voice wakes me up to a day that'll undoubtedly brim with annoyance and audacious remarks.

I lift myself into a seating position and watch as Andreas' arm falls to my thighs. I slap it off me. "Fuck off."

He groans and rolls onto his stomach, limbs messily splayed on the mattress. It's only now that I realize he hadn't changed out of his work uniform, and he's managed to look—and smell—amazing despite it. I move to the edge of the bed, feet dangling over.

"Don't I have work?" I ask.

"Of course, of course. But..." A slumber is trying to take ahold of him, but I won't let him sleep. I exert a huge effort into taking myself across the bed and bringing my palm to his back. That only does well to startle him; he flinches and continues relaxing.

So I tell him, "It's 7:43am."

He springs onto his feet immediately, wobbling from the rise, and his eyes skip around the room, searching. Just before he disappears into the closet, he demands, "Get dressed."

"Into what?"

He reappears moments later, a black flared pants slung over his shoulder, and moves towards me. But he pauses, and then I realize I'm kneeling before him, clothed in my cropped top and panties.

With all the false purity I can muster, I fold my hands together and ask, lashes batting, "Is something bothering you?"

I think of last night, the way he was pushed up against me, the heat of his breath sprawling over my skin, the unconscious movements he'd made that brought him even closer.

So much weight was on me. His weight. The blanket's weight. The weight of my thoughts. And everything is going to get heavier. I've only been with him for a day.

He merely responds, "Take these pants. I'll be in the car."

⚘

Silence reigns in our ride to the mall.

A car swerves in front of us, forcing Andreas to hit brake and inciting some verbal violence.

"Stupid, stupid fucking drivers. Unbelievable idiots. Aren't they, baby?" He turns a displeasured look to me before focusing on the road.

"Don't call me that."

He utters something under his breath. But his cock seems to have a hold on him, because he's persistently steering his eyes towards me and the way my oversized top sits on my chest at red traffic lights or as we pass through an uncluttered road. Similarly, I'm trying to picture what exactly lies beneath that crumpled navy blouse of his.

"Why did you wear those clothes in your sleep and now? You look...messy."

His head snaps to me for a brief second. "It's because balance is essential in every relationship—a base requirement. The idea corresponds to that same old 'a gift for a gift' phrase. If you choose not to repay me for the gift I'd given you, then there'll be an imbalance and you'll be in my debt. Meaning—"

"This has nothing to do with what I said."

"Don't insult me; it makes sense. Since you couldn't wear your pajamas, I had to sleep in my work uniform. That way, our inconveniences cancel each other out and that imbalance between us no longer exists."

I scoff. "You could've given me a shirt."

He chuckles, his ruffled hair bouncing. "Remind me after work."