“Doing what, exactly? Because I know you’re not at the fight club.”
I ignore him because that’s when I see her.
Wren. Fucking hell.
I know. I’m losing my fucking mind.
I’ve spent the whole goddamn day watching her like I’m auditioning for a job as a professional creep.
First, it was Joe’s Diner at the ass-crack of dawn. Watched her serve greasy eggs to hangover victims and truckers withcholesterol problems. Half the fuckers couldn’t keep their eyes off her ass as she worked.
She chatted with some middle-aged waitress, both of them laughing. For a second, I felt… relieved? That she had someone looking out for her. Then, I wanted to punch myself in the face. She’s nobody to me. Yet, here I am.
She pulls her raven hair up into a ponytail, exposing the nape of her neck.
I want to go to her, run my fingers through that silky hair, taste her skin…
Stay where you are, you fucker! It’s bad enough that you’re here like a freaking creep!
I sit in my fucking car and watch her serve a million people.
I want to drive off. To stop this nonsense.
But I can’t.
No, I won’t.
I consider ordering some food when she’s on her break. I don’t see her for 10 minutes, and I’m about to get out of the car when a whole bus of senior travelers pulls up in front of the diner.
She’s back, looking more exhausted than ever. Her brow’s furrowed, like something’s eating at her. I watch her slip her phone into her back pocket, see her chest rise and fall as she takes a deep breath.
Then she smiles at some grateful old lady, and it does something to my fucking heart.
Chert.
Hour after hour, I sit here. Watch her fake laugh at shitty jokes, refill endless coffees. My fingers itch for a cigarette.
When she finally leaves, I drive slowly, far enough to follow her to some piss-poor excuse for a park. Watch her demolish a hot dog like it’s her last meal. Shit, when’s the last time she ate a real fucking meal?
But when the sunlight catches her hair, making it shine like chrome… Fuck, she’s beautiful.
A group of kids runs by, and for a second, I see her smile. A real smile, not the fake ones she plasters on at the club. I consider taking a picture of her.
Yob tvoyu mat’, what am I doing? This isn’t me. I don’t give a shit about anyone, let alone some stripper with deep brown eyes and a smile that does funny things to my chest.
But now here we are, at this piss-stained excuse for a bar. Second job of the day. Girl’s working herself to the bone.
Blyat, when’s the last time she slept?
Not that I give a fuck. I’m just… curious.
Who am I kidding? I’m fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.
She’s wearing those jeans again, the ones that hug her ass like a second skin. Makes me want to peel them off with my teeth.
A searing hot pressure mounts in my groin, my balls tightening up.Suka, I’m hard again. This woman’s going to be the death of me.
I’m desperate for her.
