It's late afternoon, I'm pacing on the upper deck in a mix of agitation, upset, and anger. A turmoil of emotions and I want to scream.
"I'm not talking to you!" I pout childishly, rage beginning to grow inside of me at his confession. Turning away from him on the main deck of the boat, I pull my sarong tightly around my waist and tie it off with an angry tug.
"Bambino, please." He tries to catch my arm, but I storm away. He stifles a laugh and comes at me again. "You're really mad at me?" He sounds like he's in disbelief that I could actually be angry over this.
I forgot how obtuse he can be.
He catches my face in his hands, trying to bring me to him and croons at me softly, his baby voice coming on strong. It only makes me so much madder and I shove his hands off and glare fully at hi
