Lustful Hearts

A while later I looked up to find Joel stood staring in the doorway. "You're beautiful," he said smiling, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I think you need your eyes checked," I retorted, rolling my own. I looked far from beautiful, more like bedraggled.

He climbed onto the bed, crawling towards me and lay down with his head across my stomach. I placed my Kindle onto the bedside table as my fingers started stroking and weaving their way through his thick, soft, dark locks.

He let out a loud exhale before pressing his lips against my skin. We lay in complete silence as he drew circles with his thumb gently along my stomach.

I closed my eyes concentrating on his touch, listening to him softly humming a tune. When he reached the chorus, I finally recognised the song and smiled. "That's my favourite Lifehouse song."

"I know," he whispered. "I've heard you sing it a million times, it's permanently locked inside my head."

I smiled, feeling endeared by the fact he'd noticed something so small. I started to sing it softly as he continued to hum, our voices mingling effortlessly together.

We must have dosed off, because when I woke the light was fading. Joel crawled up to lie beside me, our noses touching just staring deep into each other's eyes.

Joel broke the silence first. "I love you so much, Iz." His voice had an ache to it that began to unnerve me. The contented feeling was now replaced with an unease that left me cold.

I cupped his face, stroking my thumb over his cheek. "I love you too, Joel, more than you'll ever know." I kissed his forehead, hoping my words would offer some kind of comfort he was obviously seeking.

"I know I don't deserve you..." His voice trailed off. His eyes closed but not before I caught the look of pain he held inside them.

I grabbed his face. "What? Why are you even saying this? Of course you deserve to be with me, stop being daft." I knew I had moments of self-doubt, thinking the same thing. But for him to say this now, when we were so happy, something had to be wrong.

Why had his mood changed so suddenly?

"What's wrong, Joel, you're scaring me?"

He stared deep into my eyes. I could see he was battling with some kind of inner struggle. He then closed them as if it was too painful to continue looking at me.

After a few moments he opened his eyes again. The look of fear was still evident as he began to swallow slowly. I knew the signs, he was trying to work his way to tell me something bad.

"I'm not the man you think I am. I have done so many stupid things. You are so perfect and innocent, and I don't deserve your love." The look he gave me was so heart wrenching, it took my breath away for all the wrong reasons.

"Joel, I know about your past, all the women, you don't have to tell me. Let's just live in the present." I was hoping my words registered, that he realised I didn't care, that all I ever wanted was him. He turned his head away so it was no longer facing mine. "But the past has a habit of creeping back when you least expect it."

I pulled his face back around, looking straight into his eyes. "What has brought this on, what is wrong?" I pleaded with my eyes for him to tell me. I didn't want any secrets to come between us. "Nothing," he murmured, shaking his head free. He was closing down, shutting me out, going back to his old ways avoiding the real issue.

Before I had chance to speak, he leapt up from the bed and stormed out the room. The next thing I heard was the front door slamming.

I sat there shaking, feeling physically sick. Something had triggered his mood. How did we go from being blissfully happy to everything falling apart within hours?

After an hour of scrutinising every conversation we had today, I realised I was at a dead end. I rang his mobile to find out his whereabouts only to hear it moments later in the other room.

Jumping off the bed I found it sitting on the table. I knew I should respect his privacy, but I was hoping it would give me a clue to what I desperately needed to know.

I picked it up and stared at the screen for what felt like ages debating whether to check or not. But in my heart I had to know. I hesitated before clicking the message button, my heart sunk the moment I saw a text from a girl called Lauren.

'I really need to see you, meet me at the usual place x'

My heart stopped.

Who the hell was Lauren?

She had texted him while I was reading so that would explain his change in mood. He hadn't replied back yet, but it didn't mean he wasn't going to. I instantly wanted to confront him, to put him on the spot, but he'd freak out thinking I didn't trust him.

I wanted him to volunteer the information himself. If there was no trust, and I had to live with him lying to me, then we might as well just finish it right now.

I placed the phone back down in the exact spot and sat on the sofa. My mind was racing at a million miles an hour. I felt sick the moment the front door creaked open, hearing him hang his jacket before walking through.

I kept my eyes on the TV screen, pretending to be engrossed in the news, trying to keep a lock on my emotions.

He leaned down, kissing me on the head.

"Hey," I murmured as a lump formed in my throat. I wanted to jump up and yell, "Who's Lauren?" But I just remained frozen on the sofa.

He walked into the kitchen, and I heard him fill the kettle. "Do you want a cuppa?" he yelled through.

"No, thanks." My body remained rigid, listening to every little sound he made. As Lauren's text went though my head over and over again.

A few minutes later he walked through and sat down beside me, sipping casually on his drink. He put his arm around me, and I shuddered slightly in surprise with the contact.

"Cold?" he asked concerned. He rubbed his hand up and down the top of my arm to create some warmth, but his touch just left me cold.

"Yeah, just a little." I lied. He grabbed a blanket and wrapped it round me. We sat staring at the television, pretending to watch the news, avoiding the big fat elephant that was Lauren in the room.

I was annoyed that so far he'd offered no explanation as to why he stormed out earlier. Obviously, he thought I didn't need one, which hurt even more. Unless he was worried I would dig deeper to find out the real reason.

I had to put some distance between us as the tension became too much. I was virtually on the verge of exploding. "I'm off to take a bath," I muttered, walking off. I needed some time alone.

"Do you want me to scrub your back?" he asked jokingly. I flinched at his playful tone.

How could he even make a joke right now?

I felt sick at the thought of having him near me. The night we shared together was so special to me, a night where I'd given myself fully to him. Only to find he hadn't changed at all, he'd used me just like all the other girls.

"No, thanks," I answered icily.

"Everything okay?" He grabbed my hand, and I flinched in surprise at the contact.

"Yeah, everything's fine, unless there's something you want to share?" I spun around to face him, and my eyes held his for a few moments.

Please just tell me the truth.

"No," he replied curtly and looked back at the television, dropping my hand.

At that moment I knew he was hiding something. I had given him the perfect opportunity to come clean, and he'd brushed me aside. I stormed out of the room as tears filled my eyes, slamming the door hard behind me.

I spent the night tossing and turning as my mind went into freefall. I decided to cut our dream holiday short. The deceit was too much for me to handle. I couldn't bear to be around him a moment longer then I had to.

I quickly packed and forced some breakfast down, and sat staring mindlessly out of the window watching the rain trickle against the window. The sky was a thunderous dark grey reflecting my mood perfectly.

I jumped when Joel walked in wearing just his boxers. Normally the sight of him half naked was a welcoming one, but now I was just repulsed. All I could see was the old Joel, the player I despised.

He leaned down kissing my cheek. "Morning, gorgeous." I flinched with surprise. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked concerned when I rapidly pulled away from him.

"I don't feel well. I just want to go home. Can we set off soon?”

He looked shocked, and I wasn't surprised. Only a couple of days ago I complained about never wanting to leave; now I couldn't wait to go. It was surprising how much damage one tiny text message could do. "Yeah okay," he replied, studying my face. I knew he was trying to work out the reasoning behind it.

I avoided his eyes, keeping mine locked on my now empty mug. The silence was excruciating and I felt his stare burning into me, but I refused to look at him.

After a few moments he finally spoke. "When do you want to go?" he asked, accepting I wasn't about to change my mind.

"As soon as you're packed, I've been up a while so I've already done mine." I stood up and grabbed his keys off the table to start loading my things into the car, not bothering to acknowledge him a moment longer.

I didn't need to look at his face to see the hurt, but the pain he'd caused me was far greater, and right now that was just about all I could handle.