Annoying Pest... by K. S. Adkins

Author:K. S. Adkins [Adkins, K. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Indie
Published: 2016-08-16T04:00:00+00:00



Just like old times, we were yelling in each other’s faces.

Seriously, I don’t even remember what started it. The whys of it didn’t matter because neither of us needed much reason to fight. We excelled at it, it was foreplay for us and we’ve been at it for hours.

An hour ago he’d stopped being annoying and was now just working to piss me off. With Chevy telling me what to do, how to do it, and that his word was law. Then you had me giving it right back, telling him to shove it up his ass and reminding him he was an idiot.

According to Dr. Chevy James, the medical expert, I could get a handle on my anxiety by changing my routine and meditating. Apparently, all I had to do was shift my focus and my find my fucking Zen. No matter what I say, he doesn’t hear me.

So far he’s called me a baby, a quitter, and drama queen. While I didn’t believe he meant these things, I can’t say hearing them helped matters either.

I was sick of explaining why I was the way I was. That I couldn’t fucking help it and even begged him to cut me some slack. Chevy’s response was to blame Guy for being too easy with me. He blamed me for allowing it to progress this far and made it clear he expected me to break the cycle. I was breaking the cycle the only way I knew how and that was by letting them both go by ending my career. The three of us couldn’t keep this up any longer. One of us had to take a step forward, and I decided it would be me.

He forgets that I know him. I know the shit he doesn’t say. So all of this fixing me crap was fluff. Sure he said he’s staying, and I’d bet even a small part of him wants to, but the bigger part doesn’t. The crux of the problem is this that he loves the power which comes with knowing he’s the one who protects and calms me just as much as he hates having to do it. I actually understand this and don’t blame him for feeling that way. I know I’m a full-time job, and I wish he understood I hated that I was.

In Chevy’s eyes, I’m flawed.

To him, I use anxiety as a crutch and an excuse. An excuse to what, I don’t know. What I do know is that I’m using up all of his patience, and he’s already at the end of his short rope.

In a few days when this tour ended, he’d start up his bike and leave, which meant I couldn’t afford to get invested again. I must have come further than I thought because knowing he’d bail didn’t send me into a spiral. Mostly, it just left me hollow.

When I didn’t back down, he grabbed his jacket and announced, “I need air,” before slamming the door behind him.

Calling a cab, I slid my arms through my jacket, fit his ball cap onto my head, and walk to the elevator.

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