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She made me whole.
Life was hard without her, but I know it can be so much easier, now that we are together again. She just has to let me in, and when that happens, I’m holding on tight.
Jenny is my girl. My world.
It’s time for us to get back on the same foot.
Chapter 33
Jenny
Out of all the places we could have shopped in Las Vegas, I told Drake we should try the biggest of them all.
Fashion Show. Right off the strip, next to one of the busiest damn streets in this city.
We’ve been here for over an hour and Drake is lagging behind. He and Preach are holding my bags, which I think is really sweet, but I can tell he’s over it now.
I bet he regrets his offer.
During the first twenty minutes or so he was eager for this journey, but when I started going to the fitting rooms, he lost interest.
I don’t blame him. This is something I’m better off doing with Kylie than my ex-boyfriend.
“I bet you regret this decision, don’t you?” I look over my shoulder at Drake. He’s sitting on a bench. Preach stands beside him, his large arms folded. He glances down at Drake with a smirk. Drake looks up and scratches his chin.
“I will never understand it,” Drake grumbles.
“Understand what?” I laugh.
“The time it takes for a woman to gather a few decent outfits. It’s not that hard. Just find some shit that matches, make sure it’s your size, and then get the hell out.”
“So you do regret this decision?” I burst out laughing as I turn to face him.
“I regret nothing, Snoop.”
I laugh. “Yeah, sure.” I gather the dresses hanging on my arm and double check the sizes. “Once I try these on, we can leave. Is that okay with you?”
“Finally,” he mutters. “Starting to get a little hungry. When we leave… lunch.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I smile as I spin around and walk to the fitting room. He’s trying and I’m… trying to keep things cordial. I don’t want to be a bitch to him anymore. He doesn’t deserve that after all he’s done for me so far.
When I get to the fitting room, I try calling Kylie again, but like the last three times she, doesn’t answer. I saw Drake calling Oscar and he didn’t pick up either. It must mean they are still together… most likely naked… and glued.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to escape Drake, but I do need a breather to think things through. He saved me last night, in a way, and I thank him a million times for it, because if it weren’t for him I would have been sleeping in front of a slot machine. But, I still have a hard time trusting him.
Especially now, when there have been dozens of women running up to him, begging and pleading for autographs and pictures. Some even attempt to grab his crotch, but he’ll stop it before it ever happens. He’s grown so accustomed to it, that when they actually try to kiss or touch him, he just grips their shoulders or arms and says “Thank you for your support.” He’s professional about it, at least.
He doesn’t look at them in any sort of way, but it leaves me with so many personal questions.
Like how many women has he slept with since disappearing on me? How many did he take seriously? Did he love another woman after me?
The last question hurts to think about. I can honestly say I haven’t loved anyone after Drake. He was my first and I hoped back then that he would be my only.
Love didn’t really stick with me when I got to college. I turned away from it, gave it the ultimate cold shoulder.
Boys tried… boys like Shane, and look where we are now.
Something in the back of my mind is telling me to not get too serious with Drake again, but my heart knows no bounds. My heart came back to life and banged like a drum when it sensed his presence—when I saw him on that poster.
My heart is a fool, and if it hasn’t learned by now that nothing is forever, then it might as well go back to hiding. Love, to me, only causes pain.
Love is lethal and it hurts like a bitch when the person you handed your heart to crushes it right in your damn face, and there’s nothing you can do but stand there, helpless.
Watching as the pieces fall and shatter even more as they hit the ground.
* * *
We sit in a private section of a very expensive restaurant. I order something simple and Drake orders a whole damn T-bone steak with garlic-parmesan steak fries. After the big breakfast I had, I’m not very hungry.
“Seriously, how have you not lost a limb by one of them yet?” I look towards the door, at the wild fangirls waiting for Drake to finish a meal he hasn’t even received yet.
