But I am wiped by the time I get home every night. The stress of the train ride only adds to how tired I am from work.
Now, as I walk straight to the bathroom, I sigh in relief when I turn the shower on and start taking my clothes off. Somewhere in the distance, I hear my phone ringing, but I don’t care. Nothing is as important as scrubbing the grime off me.
By the time I am completely undressed, the water feels warm enough where I know I’m not going to freeze. It never stays warm for long, so I rush in, scrubbing at my scalp and the rest of my body, worried that I won’t be finished rinsing in time.
This makes me miss the shower in Alex’s apartment. It was not a luxurious place, but way bigger than mine, and he never seemed to run out of hot water.
“He was an ass, though,” I remind myself as I turn off the shower and grab the towel from the hook next to the stall.
With my hair up in a soft towel and a terry cloth robe wrapped around my body, I walk out of the bathroom. First stop is in the kitchen where I throw two slices of cold pizza in the microwave. I know most people love cold pizza, but not me. Then, I pour myself a glass of red wine and wait. As soon as the microwave beeps, I grab the food and walk over to the couch.
Just as I am about to sit down, I remember that I left the phone in my purse that’s still on the floor by the door. I place the plate and glass of wine on the side table before going back to the door. I pick up my purse and coat, dropping both on the two-seat kitchen table.
I sigh in relief when I am finally back to the couch, this time with the phone in hand. I pull on the small ottoman that’s twoinches too far, resting my feet on top and my head back against the couch.
I lift the phone to see who called, but it shows a number I don’t recognize, for which I am grateful. That can only mean that I don’t have to call anyone back.
With a slice of warm pizza in one hand and the glass of wine in the other, I flex my toes with excitement and enjoy every bite and every sip, not stopping until I finished it all.
The phone lights up with a notification, and when I glance at it, I see that it’s something from theHolidatesapp.
“Finally!”
I put the now empty glass down and wipe the greasy hand on the robe I’m wearing. Tomorrow’s laundry day, so I don’t feel guilty about it. Besides, I don’t want to ruin my phone.
I tap on the notification, and it takes me directly to the app. The couple of seconds it takes for everything to load annoy me to no end. Seeing that I have twelve notifications cheers me up, though.
For a brief moment, Alex’s face flashes before my eyes, and I jump.
“Damn it, girl,” I chastise myself. “You are not doing anything wrong. He doesn’t give a shit about you.”
Fortified by that reminder, I tap on the screen, ready to read the messages I have in my inbox. My eyes skim over them, a smile forming on lips. Not bad for only a day on this thing. Just as I think that, a new message shows at the top.
I decide to go from the oldest to the most recent message, so I scroll to the bottom and open message number one.
As far as first impressions go, based on the picture that pops up, this is a seven. Not bad at all. The message attached to it is pretty basic, nothing special to it. The next three emails are pretty much the same, followed by one that’s more sexual innature. That’s an automated delete because if I was looking for sex, I would’ve just stuck with the other dating apps.
I count how many emails I still have to go through before tapping on the next one. As soon as it opens and I see the picture showing, I freeze. I skim over the message within the email, but nothing registers as my eyes keep on going back to the picture showing one of the guys in Alex’s group of friends. His name is Kyle, and he is a total man-whore.
It is an email showing me guys who are on the app from my area. How is Kyle on this? I thought he had a girlfriend. Last I heard, they were serious.
I throw the phone to the side, my mood now ruined. I was really excited about reading all these messages, and now Kyle freakin’ Kelly ruined it all for me. I guess worse than that could’ve been getting a message directly from Alex.
Oh my God. I sit up abruptly. If I got a message with the guys in my area, does that mean that Kyle got a message with the women in his? Will my picture be at the top of the email, front and center, mirroring the message I got?
What if Kyle tells Alex about this, and then Alex looks me up on there, too? I groan and drop my head in my hands. What am I saying, of course Kyle would tell Alex about this.
I blindly reach for my phone and dial my best friend’s number. It rings and rings, but she doesn’t answer. Since there’s too much that I want to say, I forego the voicemail.
The towel unwraps from around my hair and drops to the floor, but I am too wound up to care. I hate that Alex still has such a hold on me. He lives rent free in my head, and, let’s be honest, if he knocked on my door right now, I would invite him in with zero hesitation.
My eyes go blurry as they start seeing images from the past.
The day I met Alex Connors, I was upset about a job interview I’d messed up. I knew as soon as I walked out of thebuilding that they wouldn’t call me for a second interview. With tears in my eyes, I started walking down the busy sidewalk. I needed to deploy my backup plan, but I didn’t really have one.
I could’ve called my best friend for help. She came from money, and she had a good heart despite her obvious immaturity at times. I guess that’s what happens when you grow up with loads of money. Me on the other hand, I’d always been poor.
Deep into my thoughts, I wasn’t paying attention and slammed into a hard body. It actually felt like I’d walked straight into a wall. The impact almost toppled me over.
