One Week Girlfriend part 1

home cooked turkey since the last time we spent the holidays with my grandparents in New York, and that was years ago.
    The hostility in the house had been off the charts. Adele tried her damnedest to talk to me and I refused. The taxi had shown up to cart Fable away just as promised later that evening and I sent the guy away, shoving two twenties in his hand as payment for his trouble.
    Not once did Fable speak to me. The moment she could make her escape, she was gone, heading back to the guesthouse without a goodbye to anyone and locking herself away in her room. She didn’t come out for the rest of the night.
    So I did the same, pissed at myself that I let her get under my skin. I didn’t sleep much, hadn’t really slept much the night before either, and now I’m lurking outside Fable’s closed door, tempted to bust in there and make her talk to me.
    This is definitely not like me. I’m not confrontational. I hate facing my feelings. But damn it, that fight between us yesterday left me raw and hurting. I feel like a pussy for even thinking this, but I thought what we had was turning into something special.
    Guess I was wrong.
    But see, this is where my stubbornness kicks in for once in my personal life. I don’t want to be wrong. I don’t think I am wrong. For whatever reason, she’s running scared. I can’t blame her. I do the same damn thing, day in and day out. The only time I feel completely in control of my life is out on the football field. Being trapped here for the last few days, I’m jonesing to get back to it. Get my head out of the bullshit and back into the game.
    Go back into unfeeling robot mode and forget everything else.
    Irritated with myself, I knock on her door and turn the knob, surprised to find it unlocked. I don’t bother giving her even a second, I stride into her dark room, stopping at the foot of the bed to find her a sleeping, dead to the world lump in the center of the mattress.
    Her blonde hair is strewn about the pillow in tangled waves, her face soft with sleep. Rosebud lips parted, the covers are pushed down to her waist and she’s wearing a skimpy pale blue tank top with no bra, her nipples clearly visible beneath the thin fabric of her top.
    The thin top, her hard nipples beneath, I’m captivated, salivating really. It’s cold as hell in the room and I go to her, grabbing the edge of the comforter so I can pull it up over her body. My knuckles brush against her chest, I did it on purpose, I’m not going to lie and her eyes fly open at first contact. She sits up so fast she nearly nails me in the jaw with her forehead, and I take a quick step back, saving myself from massive injury.
    “What are you doing?” She pulls the covers up to her chin, covering up all that pretty exposed skin and disappointment crashes into me. “Sneaking around my room?”
    “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Lame as hell answer, but it’s all I got.
    “What time is it?” She leans over and grabs her phone off the bedside table, checking the clock with an aggravated groan. “Why would you think something’s wrong with me this early in the morning?”
    “You locked yourself up in here over twelve hours ago. For all I know you could be unconscious. How was I supposed to know?” I feel defensive. Her reaction makes me defensive, and I don’t know how we skipped backwards and ended up hostile towards each other again. I fucking hate it.
    I want the new Fable back. I want the new us back.
    There was never any us you asshole .
    Clamping my lips shut, I sit on the edge of the bed, sad when she skitters away from me as if she needs the space. I’ve had this idea lurking in the back of my mind since about three this morning and I hope it’s going to heal what damage has been done to our tentative relationship. If she doesn’t agree…
    I don’t know what else to do.
    “Well, I’m fine,” she retorts, setting her phone down, her gaze locked on her bent knees in front of her. “You can leave now.”
    “I was hoping I could ask you to go with me somewhere.”
    She flicks her head in an I-don’t-give-a-shit way. “I don’t know if we should hang out together anymore, Drew. I know we’re supposed to be pretending we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, but this week is almost over and I don’t think we need to make a big show of it.”
    Fuck, what did I do? I have no idea, and she’s not going to tell me unless I drag it out of her. “I wanted you to come with me to the