“Whoa there.” A deep voice came out of said hard body, and when I looked up, I was met with a pair of intense eyes.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention, and…”
I stopped talking mid-sentence because I didn’t even care about the apology I was trying to come up with. He didn’t look like I’d hurt him when I bumped into him, so I just waved him off, and went to walk around him.
A heavy arm stopped me in my tracks, not allowing me to make it very far.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” The guy leaned down, his ear closer to my face. “I didn’t hear you.”
Rolling my eyes, I let out a sigh of annoyance. I didn’t have time for this. Or, it’s not that I didn’t have the time, but I was not in the mood.
“I said I was sorry.” My voice rose as I spoke. “So move it!”
Having been born and raised in New York City came in handy now. I knew not to talk to strangers on the street, and I knew how to fight back. I was prepared to knee him in the nuts and continue walking without a backward glance.
He smirked at me, and I instantly hated him. “How about you buy me a drink, and I’ll forgive you?”
His voice did things to me, and even though I rolled my eyes at him, it wasn’t heartfelt, and he saw right through me.
“If you’re so desperate for someone to buy you a drink, keep on walking. All the rich cougars congregate in the second bar on the left.”
I pointed in the direction that I’d mentioned, hoping that he’d take the hint and leave me alone. But it’s almost as if I was waving a red flag in his face. He took it as a challenge.
“You look younger than me,” he declared as he grabbed me by the arm and turned me around. “Definitely not cougar material.” He started walking us toward the bar I’d just recommended him. “But whatever floats your boat, or however the saying goes.”
I really shouldn’t have gone along with whatever scheme he had in mind, but he was easy on the eyes, and I figured that if he was a criminal, at least I’d die at the hands of a very good looking one.
He ended up paying for the two drinks I had, during which time, I unloaded all my frustrations on him. I told him about the bad interview, and about how much I hated myself for bombing it. He nodded along, not asking very many questions, except for at the end.
“Your place or mine?”
I remained frozen in my seat, unsure of how to respond. Blinking rapidly, I carefully placed the glass I was holding on the table, trying to buy myself some time.
In the end, I decided that I deserved a good time, and he looked like he could give it to me.
“Yours,” I replied, my tone firm.
Alex smirked, a dangerous glint in the corner of his eye. “You’ll be disappointed. Just because I’m paying for these drinks doesn’t mean I’m loaded.”
His words took me by surprise. He was very direct, and, in hindsight, that should’ve been my first red flag about the type of a person he was.
“I’d rather be disappointed in your living arrangements than for you to know where I live,” I deadpanned.
That broke the tension, and I let out a small sigh of relief when he started laughing. I stared at him for the longest time, a little worried about my decision, wondering if I should take it back.
Looking back, there were so many reasons why I should’ve never gone home with Alex that night. One of them was the fact that the two drinks I had got to my head a little. I hadn’t eaten much on that day, and the alcohol soaked my brain in an instant.
Another reason was the fact that Alex was just acting shady, like he was waiting for me to mess up in a way, prove to him that he was right about not trusting me. Because that much was clear. The man did not trust me as far as he could throw me.
Nevertheless, I went home with him that night. He gave me three orgasms that about killed me, and when I got ready to leave, he slipped me his number.
Our first night together started a chain of events that’s been haunting me for four years now. It’s left me with a broken heart and also an addiction to a man I can’t ever have.
My eyes drop back to the phone I pushed to the side after trying to call my best friend. I am sick to my stomach at the thought of Alex knowing anything about me anymore. After the last time we broke up, I had promised myself that I wouldn’t even think his name, let alone look him up. I blocked him everywhere, and it’s been working fine until tonight. Finding his friend in my inbox hadn’t been on my bingo card, though.
I stand up from the couch and pad to the kitchen where I pour myself a glass of cold water. As I drip some lemon juice in it, I can feel my hand shaking, and my eyes fill with tears.I abandon the glass on the counter and walk to the bedroom where I throw myself on the bed.
“I hate love,” I whisper to myself as I stare at the ceiling. “I don’t want to ever feel it again. I need it to be dead inside of me.”
