Fell In Love With My Roomy Chapter 113

It has been quiet for a long time. We've just been lying here in bed sheets and staring at the ceiling. I've been trying not to roll onto his chest and fall asleep.

I can't decide what to do because I don't want to leave, but I also don't want to talk first.

I hear him ask quietly, "Are you okay?" and I nod.

I whisper, "Yeah," and fidget with the bed sheets. The more I think about how good that was, the harder it is for me to be objective.

A lot of thoughts are swirling through my mind. I wish I hadn't done that, but I'm still glad I did. There are many questions about what to do next, and even more about him and his thoughts.

I mumble, "I...I need to finish packing." "Then I need to go home and pack the car."

I slowly get up. My body aches, but I try to ignore it as much as possible. I gasp when I feel a hand grasp my arm.

He whispers as he sits next to me, "Don't go. Please don't go." "Kent, I need to."

"Juls, don't run away from this. Stop running away from me. Half the time you can't even look me in the eyes."

"Because everything between us is intense, and you're difficult to confront because...look, I don't have to explain myself. We had sex, thanks for that, but I need to go," I say, shaking my head. He moves his hand down and takes mine again.

"I don't want you to go," he repeats insistently. "There's a lot to discuss."

I pull my hand away and say, "We have nothing to talk about." I stand up and gather my clothes while he clenches his cheek, appearing frustrated.

He sounds irritated as he asks, "So you're just going to leave? We'll do all of that, and then you'll leave?"

"Yeah, that's how sex works, Kent. I get something, you get something, and then we're done." I grab my bra first and put it back on, trying not to think about how he took it off.

"We're not just making out, Juls!" he almost shouts. "Stop saying that! You and I both know what this means to us, and you can sit there and say all you want that what we just did was a transaction, but we both know that's not how you feel."

I say, "It doesn't matter." "It doesn't make a difference."

"How does that not change anything? My feelings haven't changed, and I know you still care about me.

"Because caring about someone for three months doesn't go away in three days, Kent!" I shout. We stop arguing, and he looks at me. "I've liked you for a long time, even though you hid your feelings behind a mask of fake hatred. I wanted you to like me. I still care about you, and they're not going away."

"Then why do you want us to break up?" he asks with his eyebrows raised. "I can't change the past, Juls, but what the hell is this all about if you feel that way?"

I'm tired, but I keep saying, "It's that nothing has changed!" "We're in the same place, Kent. I can't go away for a month when you keep secrets from me. I want to trust you, but it's hard when you keep throwing bombs at me. I've told you how I feel."

He just sits there and looks very sad. He doesn't seem to understand that sex doesn't fix everything. Sex with him is special because it's very private for me, and he knows that if I say yes, it means I still care a lot about him. But he doesn't realize that isn't the answer.

"Kent, you know I care about you, but there's too much going on in my life for me to put this back together. I can't when nothing has changed," I sigh, grabbing my underwear and pulling them on. I just got my other things together and decided to get dressed across the hall.

He says in a whisper, "Juls, don't go," and I press my lips together. "Come on over."

"Kent-"

"Just come here for five minutes, and if you still want to go after that, you can," he says with a sigh. I look at him and feel tears welling up in my eyes.

At this point, what do I have to lose?

I set my things down and climb back into bed next to him, snuggling up against his side. After a moment of silence, he starts talking.

He says, "My middle name is Stacy." I blink, raise my eyebrows, and look back at him.

"What?"

He repeats it confidently, and I clear my throat.

"Really?" I ask, wiping a tear from my cheek. Then I realize what he meant. "Is it Stacy?"

"Yeah, it is," I say. He laughs, and I can't help but smile. "Stacy used to be a boy's name a long time ago; it was my grandfather's. He passed away just before I was born; he was a Korean War veteran, so my dad thought it was a fitting way to honor him."

Kent lets out a tense breath as I blink my eyes quickly, and he appears...nervous? Relieved? I'm not entirely sure.

I inquire, "Why did you tell me that?"

"I wanted to start with something easier and see how it went," he explains. I raise my eyebrows. "You've said I don't share things with you and that I keep a lot hidden. That's just how I am, but if it means being more open or losing you, Juls, I'll tell you anything you want to know."

Tears well up in my eyes, and I sneeze because I'm overwhelmed with too many emotions to name. I didn't want him to feel obligated to tell me things, but the fact that he took the time to do this and spoke those words means the world to me.

I mutter, "Kent Stacy Chavez," and he chuckles.

"Nobody knows that, it's so embarrassing. Not even Mark and Kyle know," he sighs, and I nod.

I whisper, "Your secret's safe with me," and he draws us both back against the headboard.

"My dad was born in Boston, but I don't know what my mom told you about how they met."

"She shared some of it with me," I say with a shrug, and he nods.

He mumbles, "He was almost thirty, and she was twenty-two." "You've probably seen her work; she was a big deal."

I tell him, "Yeah, my mom is her biggest fan." He laughs.

"They got married way too quickly. You can see it when they're together. Mom looks like she's sorry for everything," he says with a sigh and a shake of the head. "But he got her good modeling jobs, and she was the perfect wife for him. It was like a business deal, and it makes me sick to think about it."

He's nothing like his parents, especially his dad, and that reassures me.

A moment later, he adds, "They're miserable." "They argue about everything, and they always have. They were rarely home at the same time, but when they were, it was a war. They'd yell, throw things at each other, and fight. It was intense and hard for me to witness."

I ask him, "Did you see it?" and he sighs.

"Yes, once. After that, I just turned over and waited for it to stop. There was broken glass all over the floor, and things were spilling. Both of my parents would lose their voices from screaming, and they'd look miserable. The next morning, after they'd calmed down, they'd go out to lunch and pretend they were in love again.

I had no idea that our families were so different from each other. It broke my heart to think about little Kent or even Kent now going through that.

"After mom had me, she said she wasn't going to have any more kids. Dad wanted a big family, but mom said no. When she got pregnant at age 25 with Cali, her professional career was over. She still hasn't quite gotten over that." He admits. "When I was little, I used to watch her. She always carried a scale with her and ate an orange and a handful of nuts every day. She would cry because she couldn't lose enough weight."

I whisper, "That's terrible," and he nods.

He sighs and says, "Her whole life and career depended on how she looked." "Then she got into modeling as a business, and if she ever came home, it was because I had a big game or Cali had a dance recital. Even then, it was 50/50. Dad was never home and didn't know anything about anything."

He's never talked to me so much about his sister, and I'm surprised and pleased. He's genuinely making an effort to be honest.