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Liam. The party animal. Ha. Who knew? “Uh, okay. That would be great,” I lamely replied, not sure if I should even consider going out on a Friday night. Then again, maybe I should start what my mother had preached before. I should go out there and enjoy life. I was only young once.
After a few minutes, we parted ways, leaving with each other’s digits, promising to meet there tonight.
It should be fun,I thought as I scrolled to my photo album, tapping the picture that kept pushing me further away from him.
The picture depicted him beautifully. It caught the perfect angle of his face, bearing his roguish, good looks and fantastic features. Not to mention, the sheet that didn’t hinder the semi-awakened state of his dick that seemed to hold its promise, stunning in every sense of the word. The picture engaged to captivate the audience, just as Edith had wanted it.
She didn’t need to say any words, signing off with only her tiny, victorious message with her new last name, leaving me without doubts as to what Greyson had been up to. Obviously he was asleep after fucking her bits. It must’ve been quite a session because, from experience, Grey would never pass out like that until he had sex with me a few times. The times where everything was busy and we never got the chance to steal a few hours together, and when we did, he’d never get off me until my legs were shaky. Until my throat was dry from screaming. Until my lips were red and swollen from his kisses. Until I could no longer breathe other than for him…That was my Grey.
Well, he was officially Edith’s now.
Husband and wife. Thinking about it made me choke on my saliva as I tried to will myself not to cry on campus.
Like the old adage,dust yourself off and try again, I repeated silently when I took a hasty turn and ended up flat on my back against a wall, breathing heavily while my eyes brimmed with tears.
I had toSet. Him. Free.
Yet here I was, sitting in my own prison, chanting the encouragement that it was best I moved on because he had—he did. Way past that; he was married for crying out loud.
Married.
Married…
Married!
Why must I drown myself in this crock of bull when he was possibly loving Edith all day and night, catering to his wife’s wishes? And why should I mourn the loss of him when clearly he was with her the entire time I had been gone; maybe even before. Who fucking knew anymore? When it came to Greyson, his attachment to Edith ran deeper than I’d once imagined.
I would be the dumbest idiot known to the human race if I kept yearning for him.
Preparing to go home, I told myself that my life would be so much easier to deal with if I just stopped thinking about them. I just couldn’t help it, though, because, as much as I wanted to be free, my heart always remembered him. It never failed to tell me that I belonged to him.
Yet here I was, back to square one, learning how to fight off the thoughts of him. Fighting away the love I had for him that I had held on to for years. And just like before, I had to remember how to squash and bury it within, like my emotions could be locked in an icebox, and I would turn into the bitchy, mean-spirited woman that I once had been.
My mind wandered off as I heard part of Pablo Neruda’s poem, If You Forget Me, in my mind…
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
