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I spent three hours that night going through Instagram and TikTok. Looking at photos and videos of Dominik draped over gorgeous women. Models with miles for legs and perfectly golden skin, beautiful, flowing hair, and eyes that even I could get lost in. Of course he pulls women who look like that, why wouldn’t he? He’s Dominik Lewis. All-star hockey player who looks like he was brought to life at the hands of a world-renowned sculptor.
Before I knew it, two hours passed and I had fallen down a very deep social media hole, drowning in a sea of anger. I couldn’t sleep, so I changed into workout clothes and headed to the apartment’s state-of-the-art gym. It was close to midnight, so the entire place was deserted, which felt heavenly, especially in a gym like that.
I worked off all my frustrations until I was exhausted and spent, my muscles burning from relentless abuse. I pushed myself until the images of all those women disappeared to a dark corner in my mind.
I’m not jealous. Just a bit surprised, I guess.
I hadn’t expected Dominik to be so careless with the way he partakes in sexual activities. Don’t men in his position take extra care and maybe settle down with one pussy for a few months at a time? But he’s never been a one-woman type of guy, has he? So how the hell am I supposed to sell love when he’s never even had a girlfriend?
I, who am average at best, am supposed to make everyone believe that Dominik, with his gorgeous face and body, picked me?
It’s impossible. Laughable.
This is such a disastrous idea already.
“Hey, Zoe, can you run across the street and grab me an espresso with extra foam? Here’s my card,” Tracy, my new boss, says in passing as she drops her Amex on my desk.
“Of course. And good morning,” I mutter the last part quietly to myself. Grabbing my phone, I glance over at Via, who is completely in the zone. She’s bobbing her head, headphones firmly in place as she drafts an article for a client. She also has a few marketing plans she needs to get through today, so she told me to not bother her unless it’s an emergency.
But what kind of friend and colleague would I be if I went to the coffee shop and didn’t ask if she wanted anything?
Looking around my desk, I spot a small, orange pumpkin eraser and whip it at her. Why does she even have a seasonal eraser in January? I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing as I watch the small thing bounce across our shared cubicle floor. Via jerks back, pushing aside her earpiece.
“Did you just throw an eraser at my head?”
“I’m running across the street to grab Tracy coffee. Do you want anything?”
“You think you’re so funny.” I don’t realize I’m still laughing until she speaks again.
“Sorry. I meant it with love.”
Via narrows her eyes at me, her lips pursed. “Double espresso. And if you interrupt me again when I’m on a roll, I’ll cut off your head.”
“Noted. Next time, I won’t ask if you want coffee.”
She points her finger at me. “You always get me coffee. Double espresso, four sugars.”
Still smiling like an idiot, I shake my head and start to walk away.
Don’t get too attached. Via won’t be sticking around either.
Sure, thank you for the reminder.
The wait for someone to eventually leave is the hardest part about any relationship. Because good ol’ anxiety is right; they do all leave at some point. Nothing lasts forever. Not the good days and not the bad ones either. That’s why I’ve stuck around all this time, knowing the bad days come in waves. I just have to keep my head above water until the worst of it passes.
But then what? Live day to day and look forward to nothing? What have I been waiting for?
I don’t want to think about that right now. Sometimes, the intrusive thoughts are so dark, they take me by surprise. I wonder if there are others out there who constantly battle with themselves to stay alive. To find purpose in the every day.
At least I have learned how to detach. Call it self-sabotage or whatever you want, but it’s what I like to do, what works for me. It’s the only way I get to hold the cards in the palm of my hand and control my expectations in any given situation.
I never get attached.
There is only one time I’ve regretted walking away first, and that was the night I met Runi. I wish I had said goodbye, thanked him for everything. He was the one person who has ever brought me to life and given me exactly what I had been craving. He was like a shooting star, a captivating and mesmerizing sight. The speed at which he accelerated was so rapid that our time together felt fleeting, over in the blink of an eye.
I’ll never forget him.
And I’ll never forget the way I slipped out when his shields came down and he drifted off to sleep. I was so tempted to lift his mask, see the mystery man behind the mask ingrained into my brain. But if I had looked, I might not have left. It might have changed everything, and I didn’t want to tamper with the perfect night we had created together.
