❝ i’m sorry, what was that? i didn’t hear you. ❞
The entire drive home was silent, save for the quiet rumble of the engine. While this isn’t exactly how you expected your date night to go after not seeing your boyfriend for three months, here you were.
He’d taken fifteen phone calls in the entire hour span you were at dinner, barely listening to anything you were saying, barely even noticing you, the way you dressed, the ring he gave you exactly where it should be - on your finger.
You love this man, and you missed him, and you understood that he was busy, and that he has priorities. You never ever asked for him to arrange his priorities and never asked him to put you above anything else, never asked him to make you his number one focus, never asked him for anything.
But you figured, just maybe, that on the first night he was able to spend with you since getting home a week ago, that it would mean something to him. That it meant that you two could spend a night alone together.
You called for the check before they even brought the desserts, handing the waiter your card to pay. Shawn had ended his fifteenth call abruptly, protesting when the waiter left to ring up your dinner.
“Honey, why are you paying?”
“Oh I didn’t even think you’d notice, Shawn.”
He got the message loud and clear, not saying a word when you signed the receipt and marched outside to the car.
“Turn here.” You say quietly, but it sounds loud in the silence around you. Shawn’s head whips toward you, staring at you in disbelief. He doesn’t seem to protest, but instead follows your direction, driving toward your apartment instead of his.
When you get to the parking garage, you immediately unbuckle yourself and get out, not bothering to spare him a glance or even a goodbye.
The door slammed behind you with a loud thud, and you spun on your heels, eyes narrowing in fury.
“I didn’t say you could come in.”
Shawn sighs, a deep set frown on his face. “Baby, don’t-”
He holds his hands out, brows furrowed. “I’m not just going to walk away because you’re upset. You know that. We never go to bed angry.”
“Well maybe we should start.” You mutter, taking your heels off.
Shawn’s face turns angry. “I’m sorry, what was that? I didn’t hear you.”
“I said,” you say, looking him in the eyes. “Maybe we should start.”
He looks absolutely wounded. “Why would you say that?”
You let out a loud sigh, resting your weight on the back of the couch. “Shawn. Close your eyes.” He looks confused, but at the look you give him, he follows instructions. “What color is the dress I’m wearing?”
You sigh. The royal blue dress on your body suddenly feels too heavy. As if on cue, Shawn’s phone rings in his pocket, and you see his hands twitch for it on his side.
You turn on your heels, walking toward your bedroom. “Go home Shawn. Let me know when you’re ready to spend time with me.”
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