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“You are not pathetic, Chloe. He’s the loser who needed validation from another woman. His cheating has nothing to do with you. Most of the time, people cheat because they’re insecure. Maybe that person makes them feel wanted or special at the time. I have no idea why they do it, but I can assure you that you are more than enough for Mini Mike.”
Her comment makes me chuckle.
“Think of it this way. You have the chance to start over and find someone worthy of your time. And you get to have sex with anyone you want. No more micro dick.”
We both laugh this time.
Olivia smooths a hand down the front of her dress and sits back in her chair, crossing her legs. “So, what are you planning to do for work?”
“I have a job interview lined up for this afternoon.”
She flashes me a smile and a set of pearly white teeth. “Oh, yeah. Doing what?”
“Nothing special. It’s for a receptionist job. The pay is good, and it’s not like I have a college degree or any real skills.”
“Hey, don’t be like that.” Her tone is firm, serious. “Just because you didn’t finish college doesn’t mean you won’t have opportunities.”
“It leaves a lot less of them is all. I went through every job website I could find before I finally found an opening at a doctor’s office. I have an interview with a snooty woman named Alexa this afternoon. She sounded like a real uptight bitch, so I doubt I will get the job. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that it goes well because I really need something to work out for me.”
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you. I have no doubt they will love you. Don’t worry about it. Everything will work out.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” I push my chair out from the table and glance over my shoulder in search of the ladies room. “Hold that thought. I have to pee before we continue this conversation.”
I stand up, grabbing my purse from the chair, and make my way toward the back of the store. Kids are huddled around tables, a cacophony of loud noises carrying through the place. Although it has only been five years, it feels longer since I’d last stepped foot on this campus. So much has changed since my most recent visit to Strickland University. But the one thing that remains the same is the cliques that form throughout the coffee shop, each of them breaking off into their own groups.
On my way to the bathroom, a boy throws a football to his friend, almost knocking me over in the process. He touches my arm, running his hand down my skin, and apologizes. Shaking him off, I continue on my path and press my palms to the wooden door. It’s locked.
Trying once more, I put some hip into it this time, getting nowhere fast. Both my hands and hipbone are now throbbing, and I still have to pee. For a second, I consider using the men’s bathroom, ruling that out once I realize they only have urinals inside. That will not work. I make a fist and bang on the door, my voice growing louder as I yell obscenities to whoever locked the door to open up.
After the person on the other side finally unlatches the door and opens it a crack, I barrel into it, almost knocking them on their ass.
“You people are disgusting,” I hiss, stepping inside the bathroom and slam the door. My gaze travels from a blonde woman who bears a striking resemblance to me with my teeth clenched in anger, before my eyes land on the man next to her. “I have been waiting outside the entire time, ready to pee myself.”
I point my finger at the man, a chunk of hair falling on my face, and that’s when I realize I know the person in front of me. Before I can get out another word, I stop myself, confused and unsure if it’s really Jackson. I never thought I would see him again. After years of wondering what had happened to him after I left, I find him inside the bathroom at Broad Street Beans, of all places. On the campus where we’d first met.
My stomach knots at the sight of him, disheveled and just finishing up with shameless sex in a public bathroom. The Jackson King I knew was not a manwhore, respected women, and he sure as hell would not have a booty call in the middle of the day when he should be teaching class.
“Chloe,” he whispers, looking at me in disbelief.
I throw my hands onto my hips, scanning my face. “Jackson. I…You look so different so…”
Jackson is not the nerdy assistant professor I once knew. He apparently grew out of that phase and along with it hit the gym and put the time into his appearance. To say his transformation surprises me would be an understatement. Jackson was always a good-looking man. Underneath the glasses and cardigans, there was a serious hottie hiding. Even after disgusting bathroom sex, his sweat-matted hair still falls into place nicely and off his face.
He always had bigger and better plans. A man with Jackson’s credentials was wasting his time teaching college psychology. I never thought he would stay here after he finished out the school year. He often spoke about opportunities in California and Washington. I had thought by now he would be long gone.
Was he hoping to see me again?
I dismiss the thought immediately. We had something special between us, but it never amounted to anything other than a few kisses between classes. I was hot for my teacher. But all he cared about was his career.
We stand there, a beat passing between us before his sex date clears her throat. “Do you two know each other?”
“Yes,” I say, my tone firm and sharp. “We…”
I don’t finish the thought.
“You should go,” Jackson tells the girl he just fucked, except I am the one who answers.
“No, I think you both should go. This is the woman’s restroom not some flop house for you to bring your dates for an afternoon delight.”
