“I was bored, Sadie. That’s all. When was the last time you sucked my dick? Weeks. I have needs, for Christ’s sake. When you’re ready to meet those needs, come and find me.”
Bored. He wasbored. As if that’s justification for cheating.
Besides, if anyone had the right to feel bored with our sex life, it was me. The reason for the lack of blow jobs? It was due to his absolutely terrible, not to mention selfish, skills in bed. Why should I bother getting him off when I could count on one hand the number of times he repaid the favour.
I have needs, too, and he most definitely wasn’t meeting them. Honestly, even though being forced to find an apartment in a hurry sucked almost as much as having to go to my doctor to ask for an STD panel given his infidelity, I was relieved to be done with the relationship.
Even if now I find myself alone, struggling to figure out where my life went so wrong, and why I feel so…empty. Maybe Dirk was right and Iam boring.
Sitting up straight, I grab my phone. My friend Willow works for the local professional baseball team. We connected because she often brings players by for meet and greet sessions with our patients, and it’s always a good boost to our donation dollars when that hits the media. She’s the exact opposite of me, and I can guarantee she’d never consider her life boring, so maybe spending some time with her will rub off on me.
I type out a quick text asking if she wants to get a drink after work. It’s something we used to do once a month or so, but ever since she started dating one of the guys on the team she works for, her time has been limited. Thankfully, she answers with an enthusiastic yes, and we make plans to meet at our favourite bar later.
Feeling slightly better with that modicum of control back over my immediate future, I turn back to work.
When I reach the bar where we agreed to meet a couple of hours later, it’s packed, surprisingly so for a Wednesday night. I weave my way through the crowd until I find a small table tucked in the back. Setting my purse down on the bar top, I climb up into the tall stool and check my phone. Willow had said she might be a little late but to go ahead and order for her. Looking around, I realize the chance of getting a waitress’s attention are slim to none tonight, meaning I need to risk losing my table by going up to the bar to order.
I drape my coat over the back of a chair in hopes of deterring anyone from sitting down and make my way to the bar. WhenI see a familiar face staring back at me from a stool at the very end of the bar, tucked into a dark corner, I come up short with a stumble. The tattooed mystery man from the stairwell…
“Hello again,” he rumbles with a smirk that doesn’t quite soften the hard lines of his jaw.
I blink once, twice, then realize I must look like a fool standing there staring at him. “H-hi.”
“I’ll keep an eye on your table.” The rasp of his voice filters through the background noise of the bar, raising the hairs on my arm.
“Thanks,” I say, still staring. He breaks eye contact, looking back down at the glass of clear liquid in front of him.
Of all the flipping bars in town, he had to come here? So much for not thinking about him. The bartender’s voice steals my attention, and I order two glasses of wine for Willow and me, then carry the drinks carefully back to my table.
He’s so close to my seat, I don’t know why I didn’t notice him sooner. But now that I know he’s right there behind me, every part of my body feels attuned to him. Which makes absolutely zero sense. This man gives offdon’t mess with mevibes like no one else. He’s got trouble written all over him. And the last thing I want is trouble. Maybe my idea of excitement isn’t tattoos and bad boys, and sure, I could probably do with a little more fun, but I like my safe, simple little life. I like my routines and calm and predictable days.
And he seems anything but calm and predictable.
Checking my phone again as I take a sip of the crisp white wine, my lips turn down at Willow’s latest message. She can no longer meet for a drink, thanks to an urgent issue at work.
Great.
I’m not really wanting to sit here alone, but wasting two perfectly good glasses of wine also feels wrong.
My finger runs around the base of my wine glass as I try to decide what to do. I’m acutely aware of the man behind me, and while I can’t confirm he’s looking at me, I feel as though he is. It’s so distracting, I don’t realize trouble is heading my way and not coming from the direction of the man at the bar.
Someone else slides into the seat across from me and my head shoots up, my mood instantly souring even further when I see who it is.
“What are you doing here, Dirk?” I say, my grip tightening on my wine glass.
My ex leans back against the chair, his suit jacket falling open as he gives me a cocky grin. “This is where we always go for drinks, princess.” He gestures at me casually and shakes his head. “C’mon. Let your hair down, why you gotta be so uptight all the time?”
How the heck did I ever think this was the right man for me? I stare at him, trying to burn holes into him with my eyes. The comments about my hair, my clothes,me. They’re always said so casually, so offhand, like he’s not really judging me, but he is.
“Leave, please.” I say it quietly but firmly, hoping he’ll get the message.
“Now why would I do that? You’ve been ignoring my messages. I just want to talk.” He has the absolute audacity to sound wounded, and I scoff.
“I’ve been ignoring you because I have nothing to say.”
“You’re seriously still mad about Gina? God, Sadie. Get over it. I’m tired of waiting for you to come to your senses and come home.”
I’m at a loss on how to respond. It’s not the first time in the past couple of months he’s hinted at thinking I’ll come crawling back to him someday, but it is the most blatant he’s ever said it.
