He sits on the edge of a table in the front of the room and I can’t take my eyes off of him. He has that sparkle in his eyes again. I glance around the room and notice everyone is at full attention as he speaks. Guys want to be him and girls want to have him.
“You might ask, what’s the difference between marketing myself and marketing the company? The answer is absolutely nothing. There’s not a damn difference. Because as a representative of Seamore Productions, everything you say, everything you do, and every move you make reflects not only on your character, but the character of the company as well. You are Seamore and they are you.”
I zone out as I watch him work the room. He’s dressed to near perfection. His suit fits him tightly in all the right places; enough to draw attention to his chest, his arms and his thighs. He’s wearing black today and it brings out the color in his eyes. Eyes I’ve gotten lost in.
I shake my head. I have to remind myself why it all fell apart. It was him. He was playing games with me. Just like all the other guys before him.
He walks to the side of the room closest to me, so I slide down in my seat, hoping he doesn’t see me. The chair in front of me has a white streak across the back. It looks like a shooting star. I focus on it and get lost in my thoughts once again.
Heislike the other guys, right? I mean, they lied to me and so did he. He was collecting data in his quest to make me a better person. I bet he’s got a spreadsheet of progress. He took a loner girl and made her want to be around other people. Maybe he deserves an award.
A bunch of hands go up in the air. I haven’t been paying attention so I raise mine as well.
He counts the hands from left to right and stops when he sees me. “Excuse me, but if you’d been paying attention, you would have noticed that I asked the men to raise their hands. You most certainly are not a man, Ms. Foley.”
My eyes widen as every chair turns to look at me. Sure as shit, the only hands in the air belong to men.
My hand falls into my lap and I feel my cheeks blush red-hot. I turn to my right and see Emerson gritting her teeth in embarrassment for me. Kel is next to her, laughing with his hand in the air. He’s an asshole and so is Finn for calling me out in front of the room.
I want to make a run for the doors, but I don’t want to draw any more attention to myself. The fact is, I have to complete two of these stupid fucking sessions and I already started this one. I’m stuck. And now, worse yet, he knows I’m here. He knows I made a conscious decision to go to his class.
My mind races as I attempt to come up with excuses to give him for why I came. Emerson begged me too. Kel tricked me. I didn’t know this was your class.
“Ms. Foley?” Finn says from the front of the room, causing all eyes to turn to me again.
“I asked the women to raise their hands. Are you not sure you’re a woman?”
I glance around the room and notice all female hands are in the air. There are a few chuckles and outright laughs. Damn it all to hell. I slowly raise my hand and my middle finger in the process.
He smirks as he’s counting and I know he’s taking sick pleasure in tormenting me. I hate him. I really hate him.
The blood boils under my skin as he talks about the stereotypes in marketing. I watch his eyes. He knows he’s getting to me and that makes me all the angrier. There’s a cute blonde in the front row and he winks at her. She smiles giddily and I want to jump out of my seat and strangle him. Is he trying to make me jealous?
Typical man. They tell you they love you to get what they want and then switch ships the first time another woman gives them attention. I fidget in my seat and strain to study him.
Is he doing it to torture me or does he really like her? I gaze at her in her short skirt and heels. She’s a petite little thing with dirty-blonde hair. Maybe he likes blondes. I bet she works on his floor. Maybe she noticed he was sad and gave him a shoulder to cry on. Maybe he’s giving her a ride to work now. Maybe they’re dating. Could he move on from me so quickly?
I feel the heat in my face, only it’s not anger— it’s regret mixed with sadness. I don’t want him to wink at other girls. I want him to wink at me so I can roll my eyes.
I don’t hate him. I love him. I love everything about him, including how he loves me. Holy shit. I do love him. Is that why I pushed him away? Because everything I ever loved, I’ve lost in one way or another. Am I letting my fear of being alone keep me alone? I’m not sure what to make of this new information, so I sit and stew, pondering my anger versus my fear. Fear always wins and it’s convincing me I was right to walk away.
For the rest of the session, he never turns his head in my direction, much less makes eye contact with me. I realize it’s too late anyway. He’s not mine to claim anymore. Maybe he never was.
After the session ends, I’m one of the first ones to leave. I make my way to the next class and take careful notes. I keep my spikes up so no one approaches me. It’s what I do best.
I need this weekend to be over so I can go home and forget any of this ever happened. I didn’t know how lonely I was until I wasn’t alone anymore. Now the desolation feels unbearable. How can I ever go back?
