throwing rocks at your window // Topper Thornton

thirty-one

TW: Mentions of smut

detached from reality

I pulled Topper's comforter over my head and shut my eyes tight while he was taking a shower. The soft patter of the shower gave me something to focus on as I tried to calm the anxiety that coursed through my body. I replayed the dream over and over in my mind, trying to find some meaning in it but I was left with nothing but questions.

I wanted to talk to Rafe. I hoped it would give me the clarity that I needed. I hoped I would see him and hear his voice and realize it was just my mind replaying old memories. I didn't still love him. I couldn't. I was tired of the way he treated me and I knew I deserved better. But just because he was an asshole didn't change the fact that he was one of the hottest guys I have ever seen and he knew my body and how to please me better than anyone else.

No, that's not true. Topper was the best sex I ever had, right?

Topper was careful and gentle and I felt so loved when I was with him and that's what I always wanted. I always felt dirty and used after sex with Rafe and I never wanted to feel that way again.

The shower turned off and I closed my eyes, pretending to sleep. I wasn't ready to face Topper. I felt like I had betrayed him, even if it was just my subconscious. I promised Topper that I had moved on from Rafe and that I was ready to be with him. I promised that I was no longer torn and confused and broken. I promised that I wouldn't change my mind again and I knew if I did it would be over.

I spent so much time thinking about Rafe and our relationship and I made my decision. There was nothing left to think about, there was no more doubt. I was completely done trying to make it work. I had sacrificed so many things and gave up so many parts of myself just for the idea of one day being with Rafe and I couldn't do it anymore. I was never enough for him and I never would be and I was embarrassed that it took so long for me to realize it. I was over the idea of a fairytale, cookie cutter life with Rafe. I didn't want that anymore.

I tried to steady my breath and fake sleep as Topper sat on the edge of the bed beside me. He brushed my hair out of my face and placed a kiss on my temple, "I'm going to go pick up our books, okay?"

I snuggled deeper into the pillows and groaned, hoping he would just leave without trying to have anymore of a conversation.

I breathed out a sigh of relief as I heard the bedroom door and then the front door close. I kicked the blanket off of my body, letting it fall in a crumpled heap on the floor. I threw my hair up into a ponytail rubbed my eyes before making my way out to the kitchen.

Maybe I'll feel better if I do something productive.

I decided to start a load of laundry but that only took minutes and then I was left alone with my thoughts again. While I waited for the laundry to finish I decided to vacuum, but then I noticed that the baseboards were dusty so I swept and mopped the floors too and wiped down all the baseboards. When I switched the laundry to the dryer, I noticed that there was some dust on top of the dryer so I wiped it down. I didn't want to waste the dust rag I was using so I went through the apartment and dusted everything twice.

There was a hodgepodge of pictures and trinkets spread through the living room and dining room from all of us. I couldn't help but notice the few pictures of me and Rafe and of the three of us. I couldn't figure out why Rafe would have brought them. Was it some sort of guilt trip? Am I just a shitty person to think the worst?

I hated the pictures. I didn't want to have to look at them, to remember all of those moments. All of the late nights and early mornings that I had spent with Rafe. All of our firsts and lasts. It was hard enough that most of my memories were laced with him and his family. There were almost no memories that were safe. Colors and sounds and smells brought me back to even the most mundane moments and they tore the freshly healed scars wide open and I had to grieve him all over again. I was grieving the person I once loved, my entire past, and what my future was supposed to be.

I picked up a small sculpture of a seashell. Well, it was supposed to be a seashell. I had made it for Rafe when we were in the second grade as a reminder of our special place. It was supposed to represent our friendship, my love for him. It was poorly shaped, lumpy, and had so many cracks in it. The paint was chipping and thicker in some places than others. I remembered the look of confusion on his face when I handed it to him. It didn't mean anything to him because it should've been for Topper.

I wonder why he'd kept it all these years.

"What are you looking at?"

Rafe's rough voice pulled me from my thoughts and I realized I'd been crying. I wiped my tears with the collar of Topper's shirt and then made my way into the kitchen, "Nothing. Just cleaning."

I pulled open the dishwasher and started to pull out a couple of shaker bottles. I twisted the caps on and then stood on my tiptoes to place them in the highest cabinet over the sink. I could barely reach the shelf and the first bottle tipped over and clattered onto the floor.

I rolled my eyes and bent over to pick it up, "are you fucking kidding me."

I stood back on my tiptoes and tried to place it on the shelf again. All of a sudden Rafe's warm body appeared behind me, pressing himself against me and taking the bottle out of my hand. I glanced up and watched as he placed the bottle on the shelf with ease. He placed a hand on my hip as he grabbed the rest of the bottles from me and put them in the cupboard as well.

I felt like I was going to faint.

He hadn't been this close to me in so long. His woody cologne triggered an emotional response from me and all I wanted was to reach up and touch the soft strands of his hair. I wanted to let him kiss me. I wanted to taste his smoke and mint lips and feel his strong, calloused hands all over me.

Goosebumps pricked my skin and the evidence of the affect he had on me was unmistakable.

He leaned down until his lips brushed my ear, his arms on either side of me caging me in, "If you need my help, all you have to do is ask."

I couldn't slow my breathing or my heart rate. My skin was blazing hot and I could tell my face was bright red. Don't give him the satisfaction of getting a reaction. But it was too late.

I heard him chuckle as he made his was out the front door.

All he wanted was to prove to himself that I wasn't fully over him like I said I was. He wanted to prove he could still have some sort of affect on me. He wanted to prove that he still had a part of me, even if it was minuscule.

I went back into Topper's room, leaving the dishwasher open and grabbed my phone from the nightstand. I clicked on my message thread with Topper and typed out a quick message, "come home, I'm horny."