Page 19 of The Casanova Complex

That was at the end of summer, and he’s still texting and calling and randomly showing up to my house and the bookstore like that’s going to make me magically take his cheating ass back.

He’s relentless.

Go fucking figure that he transferred from ULL to OU during our senior year. I swear he did it just to push me over the edge.

A girl can only take so much.

I have no qualms about what his obsession with me was. He didn’t love me. He never loved me.

Truthfully, I’m not even sure he’s capable of loving anyone as much as he loves himself.

I was simply a trophy to him. And now that I broke up with his stupid, egotistical ass, he suddenly wants to treat me the way I should’ve been treated and “fix our relationship.”

I thought about blocking him, but seeing how desperate he is gives me the smallest hint of satisfaction, so I don’t.

Maybe I should once and for all.

My mind is racing as I slip out of bed, grab my iPod, and walk into my bathroom.

There’s one glaring common denominator when it comes to guys who have embarrassed me and made me feel like I was less than with the way they’ve treated me.

They’re both hockey players.

Go figure.

I don’t have a “no hockey player” rule because that’s just stupid. I mean, it’s not like they’re my type. I just have a no-idiot rule, and I’m strictly abiding by it.

I think the only reason I even gave Blake a real chance in the first place is that I didn’t have to give him instructions on where to find my clit or how to make me come.

Which is shockingly something half the guys I’ve hooked up with didn’t even attempt to try. All they care about is getting off, and then it’s over.

That’s the one and only thing my ex had going for him.

Pity that he ruined it all with his stupid dick that he couldn’t keep in his pants.

I sigh as I start lighting the array of candles scattered around my bathroom one by one before turning on the hot and cold handles and adjusting them to the hottest setting to fill the bathtub.

This is my happy place.

There is literally nothing better than sinking to my chin in scalding hot water with the scent of my favorite bubble bath surrounding me. Warm amber and vanilla that makes my brain feel light and my muscles relax while my iPod is plugged into my ears, and the rest of the world disappears.

Okay, the only thing better is maybe endless orgasms, but I’m currently short on those, so this will be the second-best thing.

I quickly shed my clothes and cut the lights, then dip my toe into the water, testing it.

Perfect.

I slowly sink into the water and rest my head along the back of the tub, letting my eyes drift shut while Billy Corgan croons in my ears.

Unlike the majority of people my age from OU who are currently out partying their asses off because it’s a Saturday night, I’m completely content right here.

It’s not that I don’t like a good party. Of course I do. I love going out with my girls and having fun.

But I’m also exhausted the majority of the time from school, working two jobs, and then, of course, there’s Elliott.

Someone has to be here to feed him and take care of him.

We couldn’t afford to have Annabelle here as much as I wish we could, so usually, it’s just the two of us.