London's Guard Is Falling Down

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐒

[𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐍]

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐙𝐄𝐃 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐍 that was caught in the mix with our heavy, shaky breathing.

  I moved from on top of her.

"That was fabulous," Paris whispered, catching her breath. "We have to do that again."

"You want to go again?"

"No, not right now. I need to get my mind right first . . . But definitely soon. Right now Ginny needs to breathe."

I sat up and leaned against the headboard, covering my penis with the sheets that I mentally noted to wash later for Paris. Paris draped the covers over her body, leaving only her arms out. She shuffled close to my chest and I wrapped my arms around her.

"Ginny?" I inquired.

"My vagina."

"Oh, you named it?"

"Yeah, all girls do that."

"Are you sure all girls do that or just you?" I checked.

"Okay, so maybe not all girls, but I'm sure there's somebody out there who has a name for their vagina."

I shrugged. "There are seven billion people in the world, I'm sure you're not the only one."

Paris smiled, showing no teeth, I assumed she was happy that she wasn't an outcast in her girl world.

Gazing down at Paris in my arms made me realize how lucky I was to have her, though she was a handful, I was lucky.

I did wonder how she was attracted to me, though. How could someone be attracted to someone so guarded? Especially since I had doubts about starting a new relationship and she knew I had doubts about starting a new relationship. Why did she even give me the time of day?

Every little problem we went through in our relationship was because of me. The night that started with innocent fun (when I taught Paris to cook) and ended badly, because of me . . .

"You're so quiet—"

"Do you ever feel like a burden?" I cut her off.

"Uhhh, not really. Why? Do you feel like one?"

"Sometimes," I admitted in a whisper.

"Why?" Paris sat up frantically, keeping the covers in place over her body.

"You haven't noticed that every little issue in our relationship is because of me?"

"I don't even feel like we have issues in our relationship, just certain things we need to communicate with each other. The only issues we've really had was in the beginning when we didn't know each other and argued over stupid, petty bullshit that really started because of me."

"That wasn't the only issue."

"What else is there?"

"Remember the night you cooked for both of us, and you told me about what Darion did to you in middle school." I hated saying his name and thinking of him, too.

"Yeah, why?" she whispered.

"Remember what I did after you told me."

We said this together but in different tones, her's was soft, mine was harsh.

"You left."

"I left."

There was a long pause before I continued. "The worse part is, while you were talking to me that night, I knew you had feelings for me, yet I acted like a— like a jackass."

  "You didn't act like a jackass," Paris muttered.

  "You love making excuses for me, don't you?" I said with a light laugh. "I can commit three murders and your response to that would be 'He's a nice guy, he didn't mean to do it,' " I said, mocking Paris's voice when she spoke softly.

  "You wouldn't mean to do it," she said smugly, poking my cheek with her finger.

  I said this under my breath without looking at her. "I bet your response would be different if I supposedly tortured Darion in the most barbaric way possible. No matter what he does, you find some way to go back to him."

  She gasped and the small smile on my face disappeared when I looked at her betrayed expression.

  "That wasn't for you to hear—"

  "But I heard it anyways," she cut me off sharply. "Why would you say that?"

  "The part about me torturing him?"

  "No, the part about me going back to him. Darion's not my ex-boyfriend or anything like that, you know?"

  "I know that."

  "Yet you talk about him the way you do like he is—"

  This time, I cut her off sharply. "No, I talk about him the way I do because he's hurt you in different ways."

  "Well, I don't like how you said I always find some way to go back to him. You may not believe this, but I actually do have a mind of my own."

  "I know that, but you are impressionable, in a way, and that's why I said you always find a way back to him."

  "London, listen to me. You. Don't. Understand."

  "Understand what?"

  "That it's not easy to cut somebody off close to you when they've wronged you. You're guarded all the time, so you don't make an effort to know anybody unless they talk to you first. And even when they do, you're still guarded. I'm sure you've noticed, but I'm not like that. And you don't understand."

  "What do I not understand?"

  "When you've been in any type of relationship with someone for a long time, it's going to be hard to let them go no matter how shitty they are or were to you."

  I was starting to get it and feel bad.  "Okay." I nodded slowly. "I understand . . ."

  "No, London, I don't even think you do. If you did, we wouldn't be talking about this."

  "I'm sorry that I was being insensitive, but I do understand now, Paris."

   She rolled her eyes, as if not believing me. "You still don't think I understand," I stated.

  "I don't," she shook her head. "Please forgive me for saying this, but . . . . If I broke up with you right now, I honestly feel like you would think nothing of it. You would think nothing of it and move on easily like none of this happened like we never happened."