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I can do this.
All I have to do is focus on Riley while doing my best not to compare her with Lottie.
I can do that.
Surely.
I think.
So, what if instead of jet-black hair blowing in the breeze in front of me, I’m met with threads of golden curls instead?
And does it really bother me that the soft curves I’ve spent so much time fantasizing about have been replaced by a strong athlete’s body?
Though different, they’re both appealing to the eye.
And yes, just like Lottie, Riley also looks like she could hold her own, but their strength comes from different sources.
Lottie holds hers inwardly, most of it coming from in her mind, while other times arising from deep inside her soul, while Riley’s strength is visibly more outward and physically inclined.
Riley’s strong legs alone, if wrapped around my neck, would knock any man the fuck out.
But again, there lies the difference between them.
When I think of Lottie having her legs wrapped around my shoulders, I immediately imagine myself thrusting deep inside her, her loud moans making me want to lose myself in her.
I have no such lurid thoughts about Riley.
Though, by the looks of it, I’m probably the only man in this hiking expedition who looks at Riley and doesn’t get hard.
I mean, she is beautiful.
But she doesn’t hold a candle to my Lottie.
No one does.
“Hey, are you with me or not?” Riley asks when I start trailing even farther behind her.
I nod despondently and pretend to hurry my pace up while she’s looking at me, but the minute Riley turns her attention forward to the pack of hikers in front of us, I slow down, pretending to lace up my hiking boots.
I just need a moment to clear my head, which is kind of ironic since Doc suggested hiking would do just that. But apparently, I could hike up a mountain, and still, it wouldn’t be high enough to stop me from thinking about Lottie.
I can still hear Doc going on and on about how walking in nature could be very therapeutic to me. That just by hiking outdoors, away from the city that hates me, would help clear my head of such thoughts as well as help me deal with all the bullshit happening in my life. But as much as I try to clear my head of every thought, the memory of kissing Lottie refuses to budge, much less disappear from my mind. It’s been playing on a loop nonstop since it happened, and honestly, I’m not really ready to let go of it.
It might be the only thing I’ll have of Lottie that is truly mine.
FUCK!
I have to stop this.
I have to stop dwelling on that kiss.
I have to stop obsessing about Lottie.
I let out a loud groan and try with all my might to just be present instead of wallowing in things I can’t have or change.
Slowly, I breathe in and out while counting to ten. I do this on repeat until I feel myself become more grounded, letting the crisp winter wind bite into my cheeks. I take my time and listen to the sparrows above me flap their tiny wings, not allowingmyself to feel envious of how they can just fly away from their problems whenever the mood hits them.
Once I’m ready to follow the herd, I step lightly, my footsteps barely making a sound on the brittle forest floor beneath me. I push my sunglasses up on the bridge of my nose, protecting me from the morning sunlight rays that filter through the trees, casting dappled patterns on the ground. The cold air starts to feel invigorating with every step I take, as does the refreshing chill prickling my skin.
