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Eventually, he’d dump me but support our fabulously beautiful, smart child. I’d live on easy street for eighteen years. I’d have my own apartment. Might even get a car. Super simple plan. All I needed to do was let West Mercer fuck me.
And he’s so gorgeous, and I really, really want him to fuck me.
But he’s also sweet. And he talks about getting married.
That part is nuts. Is he crazy? Why does he say that shit? Is he just arrogant? Is it a line he tells girls? If so, why? We’ll totally put out for a guy like him without any pickup lines.
“Where are you going?” West asks as I ditch my heels and start jogging out of the bar, past the front desk, and out the front door.
I’m halfway down the block when I realize I don’t know where I am and lack the means to get back to Tumbling Rock.
But I need space from West.
Of course, he follows after me. While I run, he walks normally. Yet, he eventually catches up when I get tired, and my bare feet hurt. His long legs quickly erase the distance between us.
“Why are you upset?” he asks, stroking my back. “Is it the cherry thing? I’m cool with just hanging out tonight. No rush.”
“Why? Because we have our whole lives ahead of us?” I ask, sounding squeaky like a deranged squirrel.
West freezes, instantly losing his self-assured expression. He’s realized I’m insane. No, he’s being challenged in a way where retaliatory threats won’t work.
“Let’s go back inside and talk,” he says and extends his hand to me.
As I look around, I accept I’m stuck. No matter how often I claim I’m starting over and things are different, I’m still trapped in a life I can’t control.
That’s why West scares me so much. Besides the redhead thing, I don’t know why he wants me. How can I be certain about what he’ll do next?
I want to be nonchalant. Just enjoy the fucking and his money and then smile when it’s over. Hey, I could get a meal ticket out of the experience! That’s more than most Toomey chicks can claim when they instantly get pregnant by a guy.
Why can’t I run with my usual lies? Life is easy. I’m not bothered by a thing. Just focus on the prize.
But I want to keep West. I like how he looks at me. His presence fills me with hope about the future. He acts like my father’s last name doesn’t matter. I want to believe a Toomey and a Mercer can make something beautiful, complete with Christmas trees we didn’t steal and road trips when we’re grandparents. Real normal Americana crap.
Except as a Toomey, I know exactly how this story ends.
