Leo: I would never let anything bad happen to you.
Me: Ok? You’re acting weird, what is wrong?
Leo: I love you.
Me: Ok...I love you too. Leo…stop it, you are acting so weird.
My heart begins to pound in my chest as soon as I send the text. I turn my head toward the window that overlooks Rose’s house though it remains pitch-black and seemingly motionless. I look back down at my phone, expecting there to be another text from Leo. He has been responding almost immediately since this bizarre conversation he started out of nowhere, but suddenly, his replies stop. Confused, uncertain what to think, I text him again.
Me: Hello??
Still, no reply.
Between the adrenaline crash from the tattoo and the emotional rollercoaster that was today, I don’t wait up for a response from Leo. I don’t bother getting changed into my pajamas. Instead, I pull the covers over me and drift off to sleep.
Tomorrow will be better. It must be, right?
I wake the next morning to the sound of rain crashing against the roof above my bedroom, as the wind whistles through the windows.
I get out of bed and immediately go to the nightstand my phone is placed on. I touch the side button of my phone and see one new message from Leo.
Instead of feeling relief, there is something inside of me that feels a sense of dread. I can’t explain it, but the air has shifted. I feel as though something tragic has happened and I am too late. I take a deep breath, bracing myself, for what exactly, I don’t know.
I open the message and my hands turn cold. My ears start to ring. I feel sick.
Leo: Siempre.
Always?
I read the message over and over, not comprehending what he means. My breath stalls, my heart feels like it is suddenly shattering into a million pieces.
Chapter3
Sienna
PRESENT DAY
A buzzing noise startles me awake as I roll my sore, hungover eyes. Last night, in my drunken stupor, I must have forgotten to close the curtains as sunlight spills into my bedroom. I can feel the warmth radiating from the window, with its strong gleam burning against my closed eyelids.
Buzz, buzz.
Ah, that noise, make it stop.
I begin to slowly open my eyes, wondering if the obnoxious buzzing sound is coming from the vibrator that I keep in the drawer of my nightstand. I had one too many vodka tonics last night, so it is well within the realm of possibility that I could have left it running after using it. If I was coherent enough to pleasure myself, that is.
Just as I go to turn my head to check my nightstand drawers, I hear a faint grunt followed by a shift in the bed. A large vein-covered hand with a tattoo of Beetlejuice’s face on it emerges from under the covers. A sigh of relief floods me as I take in the green and purple ink, remembering I had a guest last night, Eric.
Well, there goes the vibrator theory.
My phone keeps buzzing as I am trying to get enough wits about me to look for where the fuck it may be. The phone finally stops, since it’s taken me entirely too long to find it, sending whoever is calling to voicemail.Shucks.
Despite not having a clock in my room I can tell from the way the sun is hitting the front of the house that it’s early. Too damn early to be getting a phone call from anyone if it isn’t an emergency. It’s 2022, phone calls should be illegal at this point. If you can’t say it through a text, email, or to my face, chances are it can go unsaid. At least, that’s how I am feeling now with the hangover from Hell.
Still asleep, Eric shifts in the bed exposing his thick, ash-blonde beard. He is scruffy but not so much that it hides his traditionally handsome features. On paper, he is my type; covered in tattoos, good in bed, tall. But there is one problem: I don’t feel anything other than physically satisfied when I am with him. He can turn me on and fuck me, no problem, but he does nothing to make my heart skip a beat or bring my soul alive.
I often wonder if love will ever be in the cards for me again. Leo fucking ruined me in the best and worst ways possible. The internal scars of love lost that I carry with me daily make the prospect of finding a love as deep as what I felt for Leo feel increasingly out of reach. Even though we were young, he left such a mark on my heart that it makes me feel like truly moving on may never happen.
Despite all the time that has passed since he left, I still feel guilty every time I have a new visitor in my bed. I call those that frequent my bedroom, visitors, because that’s what they are. Visitors who can please me temporarily, but that’s it. I’ll give a man a night, but I won’t promise any man my tomorrow. Those are now promised to me.
