Goddamn Miles! He only ever wanted to be with me because of my job. To get his stupid clients into the fucking magazine. I hope he gets a rash on his dick and it hurts when he pees!
Tears blur my vision again and I wipe my eyes with the palm of my hand. Fuck, I could use a drink. Ugh, it’s too early for that. I just don’t want to think about him anymore. I just want to make the pain he’s caused me disappear.
I will never let a guy use me the way he did ever again!
My mom has always been the one to remind me to never settle, and I did for Miles. I’m not going to make that mistakea second time. Mom’s right. She’s always been right. I need a guy who’s perfect for me - someone I can trust completely, who never starts an argument, who’s always mindful of my wants and needs. Who sacrifices for me. Puts me first… and who rocks my world in the bedroom (I added that last part).
No guy has measured up yet, but I’m not giving up. He’s out there somewhere, and I’m going to find him.
I won’t make the mistakes my Mom had to learn from.
The sound of the apartment’s door opening jerks me from my raging thoughts. Oh, look at that. Mr. Manwhore finally comes home after a long night of screwing some poor woman over - literally and figuratively.
Slamming my journal shut, I stuff it back into its hiding place and get out of bed. I do my skincare routine before storming out of the room and down the hall, because God forbid I let that fucker see my blotchy morning face. Zander is standing in the kitchen, two cups of take-out coffee on the island in front of him as well as a box of doughnuts and danishes.
He looks up as I come marching in, half a glazed doughnut in his hand, the other half in his mouth.
“Hey,” he says, his voice muffled by doughnut. “I got breakfast.”
I hesitate a moment, my anger burning through me. How can he just stand here, acting all cool and unbothered? Is this how he was the morning after he ghosted me? Acting like he didn’t have a care in the world?
Asshole. Part of me doesn’t want to take anything this guy has to offer, but fuck… I love doughnuts.
“Thanks,” I grumble, snagging a chocolate-covered one out of the box, as well as one of the coffees. I take a big bite, savoring the donut, though I try not to let just how much I’m enjoying it show. It would no doubt only inflate his already massive ego.
As I munch down the donut, I give him the side-eye. He looks well rested. Refreshed. His emerald eyes sparkling and bright. Makes me want to punch him right in his stupid bearded face.
“Looks like you had a great night,” I grumble.
He looks at me with an arched brow. “As a matter of fact, I did.”
That pisses me off and I roll my eyes. “Whatever, playboy.”
He clenches his jaw so hard, I can see a vein ticking in his cheek.
“How was your night, Wildcard?” he asks through gritted teeth.
“Wonderful,” I declare. “We had a great time together. I also stayed out all night.”
“Is that so?”
I give him a nod and a haughty grin. “Indeed it is.”
“Well, that’s fantastic for you.” His whole body is tense and he sounds pissed, which gives me a weird surge of satisfaction. “You seeing your guy again?”
“Yep. How about you?”
“Oh, definitely seeing my date again.”
My blood boils. So, he is capable of sticking around, huh?
“Great,” I hiss. “So happy for you.”
“Likewise.”
We glare at each other, the air practically sizzling between us.
I pop the last of my doughnut in my mouth. “Well, I guess I’ll get ready for our run.”
