In your pocket

He sits in front of me, trying (but failling) to make eye contact. Why doesn't he stop with this, anyway?! He just can't accept it, I guess.

"Show me your phone." He says, putting his hands through my shoulders, trying to make me look at him.

"I won't" I say quickly. "I won't because I think you don't trust me enough to believe in my words. You want to see it with your own eyes. Guess nobody told you to not believe them."

"He took a deep breath and waited. Guess he was counting 'till ten. "Give. It. To. Me."

"No!" I whisper. "Well, I got nothing to hide."

"So, show me."

"What do you expect? I mean, you think you'll find messages or something like that?"

"It doesn't matter. I want it." I gave it to him. I just wanted it to end. I wanted him back to me.

He opened apps, texts and finally... found nothing. He whispered. A long loser whisper.

"I said I had nothing. I'd never do this to you. I'm not this kind of girl. I love you." I held his hands and pulled his body to mine.

"I'm sorry" He says and kisses me.

I felt guilty about lying to him. And it wasn't the first time. There were so many lies that I created a new me. It's like I have a double life. And I prefer the second one.

I know I don't like his jealous and aggressive way. But I know I love this way when he apologizes and I see in his eyes he's not lying. I love when he surprises me with cakes and ice creams and Sundays at the park. I know I can't (and I won't) change him. Because I love him just the way he is.