Chapter 01
Somewhere out there, a theory states that it takes half the length of a relationship to get over a breakup. For instance, a year-long relationship takes six months to grieve. That’s bullshit, though, or else I would have been over Lex a week ago. But I’m not. Far from it.
Maybe what the theory lacks is an analysis of different parameters and variables. If the relationship never actually started, how do you know what half of it is? If you see your ex on an almost daily basis, does it take longer to heal? More importantly, if we’re talking about your first love, can you ever get over it?
Those recurring thoughts have occupied my days for the past three weeks. But like a sadistic twist meant to add to my misery, time seems to have expanded, and it feels as if two months have passed since my heart broke into thousands of sharp and painful pieces.
But it’s been three lousy weeks, and I’m barely starting to feel better. Or rather, less terrible than initially. I still miss him. So much.
I miss feeling his stubble in my hands, hearing his low chuckles, cuddling up against him, our playful bantering, the dirty things he’d whisper to me during sex, the sense that I belonged to someone… I miss staring into his mesmerizing eyes, trying to understand the complex workings of his mind. I miss the need in his gaze whenever he was aroused and wanted me, the devotion with which we used to make love, those quiet, tender moments we shared right after climaxing together… I miss how he sometimes looked at me like I was his everything.
The only looks I get from him now are of apology or pity, and it’s unbearable. But maybe it’s what I deserve for falling so madly in love with a man who never lovedme back.
“Andy?”
Mason shakes me out of my gloomy thoughts, calling out my name while pushing my headphones away. Given his worried eyes, I understand my melancholia was rather obvious.
“Are you okay, sis?” he asks, low enough so only I can hear.
Only then do I feel it. I’m crying. A tear is making its way down my cheek. Shit! I swiftly wipe it away, hoping no one else noticed.
It’s useless now that he saw me cry, but I still feel the need to pretend everything’s okay, as usual. I nod, hoping the smile I plastered on my face is at least a little convincing. “I’m good. Did you need something?”
“No, it’s just… I worry about you, girl. You’ve not been yourself for weeks. That asshole really did a number on you, didn’t he?”
My mouth opens to deny it, but nothing comes. Mace knows that the man I was seeing is ancient history. Or hewouldbe if I didn’t work for him. I’ve never been very good at hiding my emotions, and after a couple of days of looking like my world had ended, Mace put two and two together. I’m pretty sure the rest of the dream team also knows, given the compassionate looks they sometimes give me, but they’ve never mentioned it.
Oli never told them anything. My worries that word would spread like wildfire were unfounded, and in retrospect, I should have known better. Oliver isn’t the type to ruin a woman’s reputation out of spite or jealousy. So he kept mine and Lex’s dirty little secret, and no one else knows what happened.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Mason proposes.
I shake my head. I don’t want to talk about how I fell in love with our boss, ruined everything, and am now forced to see him every day, unable to get over him.
“Alright, I won’t press. But just know I’m here, girl.”
I give him a sheepish smile and return my attention to the screen, thankful. Despite his tendency to gossip, Mason has been nothing but supportive these past few weeks. Oli and I still haven’t sorted through that whole mess, and Mace has slowly become my closest colleague.
I’m elbow-deep in a script, with some random playlist blasting in my headphones, when someone appears in the doorframe of our office. I don’t even need to look to know who it is. I’d recognize that tall, imposing frame anywhere, even like this, in the far corner of my eye.
My entire body tenses before I can prevent it, and my hands freeze over my keyboard.
Don’t. Don’t look at him. It never feels good. It only hurts.
Trying to reason with myself is a lost cause as my eyes travel to the newcomer in less than a second. Fuck, why does he have to be so ridiculously handsome? He’s wearing a dark gray button-up, which means there’s some sort of important meeting today. It’s just tight enough tohug his muscular chest to perfection while remaining professional. With that, he has dark blue jeans, and I have seen those enough to know they do justice to his amazing ass. My gaze moves up, admiring his face from afar, already knowing it’ll only bring me sadness.
He’s wearing his glasses, but I can still see his intense eyes focused on his destination—which seems to be Brian. His hair is neater than usual, as if he passed a comb through it, not just his fingers. I guess it’s an important meeting.
I’m quickly distracted by the rest of his gorgeous face, bewitched by the familiar features. How pathetic is it that his tempting full lips and sharp jawline still make me weak in the knees?
As if he heard my thoughts, his gaze turns to me, taking me by surprise. Before I can look away, our eyes meet. Immediately, a heavy, unpleasant lump forms in my throat.
There it is. Another one of his looks full of pity.
I fucking hate those. So much so that I instantly tear my eyes away from his.
A couple of seconds. That’s all it takes to throw me back to the humiliating memory of his rejection, the painful reminder that the feelings I thought he had for me were all in my head.
It doesn’t matter how hard I try; I can’t focus anymore. Not with Lex in the same room, so close to me, helping Brian with something. At least the music blasting in my ears means I can’t hear his low voice, which would reach me otherwise.
