Hooked by Unknown

is sort of light and nonchalant as he questions me, but my stomach ties itself in knots.
    "Uh...what? What do you mean?" I touch my face lightly and play dumb, but I know there are remnants of Tony's assault at work a few days ago. I guess they finally showed up, so kindly aided by Lex when he flipped his fucking lid last week.
    "You have a bruise...on your face. I didn't know you could just randomly get bruises on your face and not know about it," he laughs, but it fades quickly. "That wasn't from our fight, was it? I didn't mean to grab you that hard. Are you ok?"
    His voice is quiet and guilty and, fuck, I feel really bad now but I still don't want to tell him what happened.
    "Don't worry about it, they were already there," I say it quickly and quietly, hoping to just brush over the subject.
    He freezes when I say it, and leans back peering over the kitchen bar and into the living room at me again. Shit. I was going to tell him that Tony came into work, but I sure as hell wasn't going to mention the fact that he put his hands on me...all over me.
    "How did they fucking get there?"
    I sigh nervously.
    Think up something...maybe I should just blame it on him. God, that's so fucked up. I can't...
    "Leala..." he encourages my response, voice wavering a bit.
    This is going to be bad. The second the words come out of my mouth, he's gonna hit the fucking ceiling. Damn, why can't he have better control over his temper? I don't want to start this shit again, he just got over the last fight we had...
    But when I hesitate longer, pretending I can't hear him, he snaps. "Leala!!"
    I jump when he bellows out my name, and I swallow hard. Here goes nothing... "Tony came into work the other day."
    His eyes go wide. "What did that motherfucker want?" He cocks up his eyebrow, a mix of disgust and surprise reading on his face.
    I cast my eyes down, picking at the hole in the knee of my jeans, pulling at a stray thread, but I feel his eyes boring holes into me. "Just came by to fuck with me, I guess. Him and a bunch of his boys. You know how they get."
    I jump suddenly as I hear a pan crash into the sink and he storms out of the kitchen. "No, I don't know how they get, so why don't you just fucking tell me." He looks at me condescendingly across the room, crossing his arms over his chest. "Go on...tell me. He fucking touched you?? Is that how you got that bruise? Both of those bruises!?" he adds the second part when he looks to the other side of my face.
    "He just...grabbed my face. I was being a bitch." My tone is a bit defensive, but I know I shouldn't be making light of the situation. I just hate to see Lex so riled up over it.
    "Why don't you stop playing this game and tell me what he fucking did to you! Cause if he laid a hand on you-"
    "Well I think it's pretty obvious that he touched me, Lex!" I sneer sarcastically, narrowing my eyes at him. Shit. There it fucking is.
    "Don't get smart with me! Why do you always try to start a fucking fight? This isn't about me and you throwing down, this is about Tony and his bitch ass putting his hands on you!" He exhales noisily, pent up frustration crawling all over him as he runs a hand over the shaggy bristles of his dark hair and tries to calm himself, but his voice trembles with fury. "But he fucking touched you...he put his motherfucking hands..." he trails off, biting his lips before pushing out a laugh in disbelief. He lowers his voice, rage engulfing him again, "I swear to God–"
    "We were arguing Lex, ok?! He was being a fucking creep like he always is!" I cut him off. I really want this conversation to be over.
    "So he grabbed your face? Did he do anything else?" He cocks his head to the side, tattooed arms still crossed over his chest, lips pursed in anger.
    "Jesus Christ..." I roll my eyes, breathing out the words in exasperation. Sometimes he gets so fucking protective.
    "Where else did he fucking touch you!?" he snaps, bending his arms up and fisting his hands, clenching them so tight