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That wasn’t what it looked like.
My breath quickens as I read it over and over again.
I think carefully about what I might send back, then finally, I find the right words.
You don’t owe me any explanation. We were a fling, nothing more, and it was fun.
I think I’m having a panic attack as I try to slow my breathing. I curse myself. I’m the one who got myself into this mess. I knew fine and well that Lukas was a player and a womanizer. What did I honestly expect?
I’ve missed you
I stare at the message for what seems like forever, and at one point, I consider throwing my phone against the wall. Since Ican’t afford to just go around smashing i-phones and replacing them, I find the will to just cuss him out instead.
Of course, it’s what I’ve been wanting to hear him say, but it took me running into him with another woman to prompt him to remember my existence? Well, I’ve got news for him. I’m nobody’s fool, and I’m not a runner up prize.
He can go fuck himself, or her, or anybody, but he won’t be fucking me.
My heart wants me to reply that I missed him too, that it’s lonely without him, that I want to be wrapped around him in bed, but all of that sounds lame. Like Charlize said, take matters into my own hands or walk away.
You shouldn’t say things you don’t mean. I think we both need to move on x
I turn my phone off for the rest of the day. If I have to see one more text with his name at the top, I might scream bloody murder from the roof tops.
I’m done with Lukas Bentley.
He can do whatever the fuck he wants.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lukas
I curse the ground that Rebecca Sanchez walks on. First, I have to put up with her helping herself to the chair opposite me, without being invited, then she orders a coffee so she can stay longer and bore me some more, like what we had was anything I’d want to repeat—and it was months ago. Then, I run into Ariana, and she molests me in front of her.
I’m mortified and pacing in my office.
The only reason I was there, why I’ve been there since Ariana got home, is so I can see her go in and out of her workplace.
The coffee shop is opposite where she arrives each morning at eight twenty-five, and I watch her go in the double doors and through security. Each day, I want to rush out and greet her, sweep her off her feet and kiss her pretty little mouth, taking in her scent and her warmth.
But I’ve been too gutless, so I’ve stayed away.
Instead, I lurk around like a goddamn stalker, taking her in from a distance, trying to gauge if what I’m feeling is just because I’ve got the holiday blues, but this feels like far more than that. This feels nuclear.
Today, she disappeared inside, and I thought that was it. I drank my coffee, then left, not realizing she’d crossed the street and was about to enter the coffee shop.
I don’t know why exactly, but the fire in me isn’t a simmer anymore, it’s a raging beast.
And now she thinks I was with another woman.
Holy fuck, this is messy.
I don’t do messy, and I sure as hell don’t do complications, but this girl has me all wound up.
I don’t know what happened in Mexico, I don’t fucking know, but now I’m pacing my office like a madman, wondering if I should call her. The mortified look in her eyes said it all, and it told me so much.
She was pissed.
If she’s pissed, it means she cares. If she cares, it means she wants more.
