AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What was that all about?”
“Umm, it’s a long story,” she says, gulping the remains of her drink, then flags down a waiter and asks for another two.
I don’t know whether the second drink is for me or if both are for her.
I finish my sweet concoction, then settle myself back into the chair. I watch Abigail’s eyes follow me as I undo the top two buttons of my shirt and rake my fingers through my hair. She bites her lip as I lean back and say, “Well, I have no agenda for the rest of the day.”
“Fine. Okay, that was a fan of my book. I’m an author and well, during my meet and greet this morning, I answered a question about my personal life.”
Ah, yes. That’s a trap. She fell for it. If you’re not ready to talk about it, divert the question to another topic.
However, I will not tell her that. She needs to learn from her mistakes, and I think this one will be the lesson.
I shrug and ask, “And what’s wrong with that?”
“It was a blatant lie. The whole point of this book is explaining how I turned my lifestyle as a promiscuous woman around. Or getting into emotional situations that made me so… angry. An emotional monster. A… heartbroken woman. My book aims to empower women and men to care for their heart and soul rather than give in to promiscuity. Now, here I am pretending to be in a relationship, showing that I’m well and capable of being in a monogamous relationship! When the truth is, I’ve been so stuck in my writing that I haven’t given it much thought. Also, I banned myself from men for a year, so on top of that, I’m celibate. It’s just contradictory of me to do such a thing when I should be able to announce my single lifestyle. But I couldn’t and I feel so silly and embarrassed for not just telling the truth. “I feel like a pink-haired fraud with a friendly smile,” she finishes and downs her drink, leaving just the ice cubes and straw swirling in the empty glass.
Woah, that was a lot to unload. And seriously, did she say celibate?
I clear my throat and take a gulp of my drink. “I guess it can get tricky when someone puts you on the spot. It’s hard enough when you’re in the spotlight.”
She bites her lip and sighs. The whole topic is becoming a downer, reminding me of my own unexpected questioning this morning.
“You know, I’ve been dying to find out why you dyed your hair the color of a bird?” I say, hoping it’ll change her mood. I’d rather have a feisty Abigail than a sad one. The thought itself is bizarre, since I don’t really know her.
Her gaze snaps to mine, and she rolls those pretty green eyes as she crosses her arms. The classic defense stance.
“Stop comparing my hair to a flamingo!” she says and takes a strand of her long hair and wraps it around her hand. “It’s called pink. P.I.N.K!” she adds, narrowing her eyes at me. “And it’s a result of a dare. I had a one-night stand with an artist, and he said my hair would be an awesome canvas. Thentold me I should dye it pink. Like a naïve woman, I wagged my tail and did as he suggested. We were seeing each other for only a week. As if he cared enough to see my hair pink. My brain should have waved SOS to my heart the moment he opened his mouth,” she mumbles, unwrapping her hair, and setting it back over her shoulder.
I can’t help but laugh at the incredulity at her following the directions of a douche bag. Then realizing the mistake behind it, but the pertinent look she gives me, makes me stop. “You know if you don’t like it, you can always go to a hairdresser and maybe get it dyed another color that you like instead. Or go back to natural. Not that I color my hair, but I grew up with a sister who dyed her hair every few months.”
Abigail laughs and then makes a resigned sigh. “Yeah, I know, and I had one lined up, but then I left it as a reminder not to listen to someone that gives no fucks about me. It’s a reminder of yet another time promiscuity had let me down.”
Fair enough.
I guess in some roundabout way; I had done the same. I continued sleeping around like Natasha did, a reminder that no one was truly faithful. Not even my own parents could prove me wrong.
Suddenly, I feel a vibration on the table, and I notice it’s coming from her cell. She quickly picks it up. Her eyebrows furrow and she mutters something under her breath.
“What’s wrong?”
Abigail purses her lips as she reads her phone before she says, “It looks like that woman who we saw earlier posted a comment on my social media. Now lots of my followers have commented on it. Shit.”
Fuck. If someone that knows me sees us together, they will assume that Abigail and I are dating. It’ll make us both laughingstocks.
We may have great banter and find each other attractive, but our views are opposite and we’re both recovering from experiences. I mean, we both wrote books about warning people not to fall into the potholes we left behind.
“There’s no photo of us?” I keep my tone neutral, not wanting to show the fear of being seen together.
Abigail shakes her head. “Just mentions of me having lunch with my ‘beau.’” Then she laughs and says, “Apparently, we look great together.”
I don’t peer over to see what the comments are but can see her amusement as she scrolls down and bursts into giggles.
“And hope that you fuck me thoroughly.”
Now that catches my attention and I smirk. “Very caring fans of yours.”
Abigail flushes, clearly feeling flustered about the comment. She puts her phone down and says, “Okay, I’m done. I think I’ve had more than enough drinks.”
