Chapter One
FROM: BLADE 7:23 P.M. Hey Babe. Can’t make dinner. Boys n I r going out. Don’t W8 up. X
Great, just fucking great.
I toss my phone back into my handbag and I glance around the room, frustrated by Blade’s cancellation. Sadly, this isn’t the first time I’ve been stood up. It’s the third time this month Blade has left me at Salsa’s Mexican restaurant waiting for him because he prefers to ‘hang with his boys’ over his girlfriend of six years. To make matters worse, the waiter that has been coming over to my table for the past hour asking me if I want to order is the same damn waiter that has attempted to serve me the last two times I’ve been stood up. I peer over to the bar and meet the waiter’s boyish face and blue eyes. He looks back at me sympathetically. Startled, I quickly look down at my menu, letting the long chocolate strands of my hair work as a curtain between us. Only the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat made me peer around my hair.
“Are you ready to order?” The young waiter asks, running his fingers through the front of his long, blond fringe.
“Uh,” A blush instantly springs to my cheeks and I cringe at the thought of how red they must look. “No, sorry… my partner isn’t coming.”
I rise to my feet and straighten my short, black dress. I pull my matching black coat off the back of my chair and shrug it on over my shoulders. I reach across the table for my handbag and walk quickly toward the exit. My cheeks grow warmer and I swear I can feel everyone’s appraising eyes on me.
Outside the air is surprisingly cold. Strange, considering we’re meant to be well into spring. The cool air makes my nose run immediately and I feel the heat of my blush fade from my cheeks. My high heels tap in an even beat along the concrete as I make my way through the car park. I’ve always found calm weather soothing, but tonight’s cold, still weather isn’t enough to calm the storm raging inside of me.
My dark shadow reflects in the blue paint of my sedan as I unlock the car and climb in. With a growl, I throw my handbag into the passenger seat. Tears burn at my tear ducts, but I don’t dare let them fall. I’m not going to cry over him anymore. I lean over and dig hastily through the contents of my handbag until I locate my phone. I search for his name in my contacts list and hit dial. It rings out and I’m greeted by his stupid voicemail. “Yo, this is Blade. I’m not here right now, obviously. Call me back later.”
I don’t leave a voicemail, but I do call again. And again. And again. Each time it reaches his voicemail I grow angrier and angrier, until he finally answers.
“Shh. Shh.” I hear him whisper to someone with a high pitched giggle. The noise makes my stomach drop in to my intestines. “Hey babe, what’s up?”
Choosing to ignore the female noise until later, I tell him what’s up. “What’s up? I’m sitting in the car park of Salsa’s because you stood me up again!” My voice is loud, but I don’t care.
“Can you stop yelling? It’s really not a big deal. You and I hang out all the time.”
What kind of response is that? “Wait. Because we see each other frequently it gives you the right to stand me up?”
I can imagine him doing that stupid shrug thing he always does. “Something like that. I knew you’d understand.”
He hangs up, leaving me staring out the front windscreen. Anger boils to extremes in my chest and I can feel my nostrils flare as my chest rises and falls rapidly. With shaky hands, I hit redial.
“Hello?” A husky, female voice answers, catching me off guard.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I demand, feeling instantly ill. “Who is this?”
“Georgina.”
“Put Blade on the phone.” I snap.
In the background I distinctly hear club music and laughter. I’m glad he’s out having a good time while I’m sitting alone in a Goddamn car park.
“Shit. Olivia, it’s not what you think. She took my phone off the bar.”
I’ve reached boiling point. I’m done. “Do you think I’m dumb?” I bark into the phone. What kind of question is that? Of course he does.
“No, not at all.” I can hear the slight slur in his voice. Typical. “I mean sometimes you do things that make me question—”
“Just shut up! I don’t want to talk to you anymore and I don’t want to see you anymore. You can find your stuff boxed and on my driveway!” God knows how many times I’ve said that.
“Olly, c’mon. Don’t be like that.” He pleads through the phone, calling me by my nickname. “You’re overreacting.”
I hang up. How’s that for fucking overreacting. I rest my head on the steering wheel as a few tears drop onto my bare thigh. Blade and I have been dating since we were seventeen. We’re twenty three now. Realistically, we should’ve only dated for two years. That was the first time he cheated on me. Since then I’ve lost count of how many times he has betrayed me. I know. I’m an idiot for taking him back and I should respect myself more blah, blah, blah. Hear me out; being with Blade is all I know. I’ve never been with anyone else. The thought of not having him in my life terrifies me, but I know that if he is in my life he’s going to keep destroying me over and over and I can’t do it anymore. If being with Blade means I’ll sit in restaurants alone for the rest of my life or worrying that I might catch some freaky STD from him…then I want no part of it.
***
I storm around my compact apartment with a big box tucked under my arms, collecting Blade’s stuff. He doesn’t live with me, but he sure has a lot of items lingering around my apartment. Each one I pick up makes me feel sicker as reality begins to sink in. When I’m certain I’ve grabbed everything I run downstairs and place the box on the driveway. I’ve never gone as far as to actually remove his things before, but this time I’m fed up. I’ve had enough. I turn around, but a set of headlights pulling in to the driveway makes me turn back to the road. It’s a taxi.
Great.
Blade jumps out of the backseat and pulls a handful of cash from the front pocket of his denim jeans. He tosses the money into the driver’s window and jogs over to me.
“Baby,” He pleads, running his fingers through his dark, blond hair. “Don’t do this. I love you.”
I turn on my heel, knowing very well that if he flashes me those boyish dimples I’ll cave. His hand wraps around my elbow and energy frissons through me as spins me around with surprising force. Under his grasp my elbow aches.
“You’re hurting me.” I snarl under my breath so the neighbors can’t hear.
He doesn’t release his grip. His eyes glare into mine as he leans close so I can feel and smell his hot, alcohol filled breath on my face. There’s no sympathy on his face only anger. I glance at his small, blue eyes and then down his face to his thin lips. Pink lipstick along his jaw line catches my attention. My gaze follows the sets of lips down his neck, before disappearing underneath the blue collar of his green polo shirt.
“You are disgusting.” I spit.
He squeezes my arm harder and I wince as my muscle forcefully compresses under my flesh. “What would you do without me? Where would you be without me?”
I snatch my arm back. “I don’t need you anymore. I need someone who appreciates me.”
Blade laughs loudly, tilting his head back and exposing his teeth. Apparently, I said the joke of the year. “You won’t find anyone that’ll be as interested in you as I am. You’re plain, Olivia, and you’re boring. You’ve got nothing to offer anyone. I’m the best thing that has ever happened to you.”
Ouch, to think that this bitter person is supposed to be my significant other. A weird tingling sensation builds up in my throat as it usually does before I cry and I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth to help ease the build-up of tears. And it does to a degree.
“If I’m such a bad catch then why are you so upset?” I ask, my voice quivering slightly.
“I’m not upset. I’m happy. Break up with me, I don’t care. You’ll come crawling back and when you do I’m going to slam my door in your face.”
I turn away from him. If I don’t leave now, I’ll cry and I don’t want him to see me cry. I make my way up the small, white stairs and just before I step it into my apartment his voice calls out one last time. “I don’t need you! Maine is crawling with better girls and I picked up two of them tonight!”
I slam my door and slide down the hard wood. How can someone who used to be so sweet be so damn hurtful? If you asked me a few years ago where I wanted to be in life I would have said ‘anywhere as long as I have Blade’. If you asked me that same question now, I’d reply ‘anywhere I don’t see Blade’s stupid face or hear his stupid voice’. My chest heaves painfully as tears escape my eyes. I let them fall in full force because I’ve been holding them back since the restaurant and I can’t anymore. I crawl on my hands and knees from the front door, through the lounge room and into my bedroom. I manage to pull myself onto my bed and I let the cool, satin duvet cover caress my burning cheeks. After a few minutes I realize I’m not crying because I broke up with Blade. I’m crying because I know this isn’t the end of it. He’ll keep coming back. He’ll keep emotionally blackmailing me and putting me down until I crack and accept him back into my life, but that isn’t going to happen this time. I won’t take him back. I’m stronger now and I’ve been preparing for our inevitable breakup for a long time now. Just because I choose to wear more conservative clothing doesn’t make me plain and just because I like to stay home most nights and read and write does not make me boring. I’ll show him that I’m not dependant on him. I’ll show him that I can’t be controlled. I’ll treat him like I’m over him because I’m definitely over being treated like I’m nothing. I am not nothing. I am me and I love being me.
Screw him.
Chapter Two
The next morning, I wake up extra early so I can get a longer session in at the gym before work. My gym is only a few blocks down, but I drive anyway. Why would I want to burn more calories than I need to? It was hard waking up early this morning. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. I ended up switching my phone off after eleven p.m. and a million missed calls. I smile. Blade is probably freaking out right now and it serves him right.
Even after I switched off my phone sleep was scarce. I stayed up all night thinking, trying to pin point the exact moment Blade turned into a douche. I couldn’t and I wonder if he’s been like that since high school and I’ve just been too blind to notice?
I pull up in front of the gym, lean across and pull my backpack off the passenger seat. Inside it has a towel, a pair of heels, a nice black business dress, some make-up and a hair brush. After my workout I need to shower and get dressed for work. Since the gym has showers, I figured I’d knock two birds with one stone this morning. I adjust my ponytail, pull my tights up a little higher and cover my belly button with my pink tank top. Not that it helps any. It’s so tight it keeps sliding back up and exposing my flat midriff.
I enter the gym and a sterile smell fills my nostrils. Yesterday, the gym was hosting a boot camp and it smelt strongly of sweat and vomit. Unpleasant is a nice way of putting it.
I scan the gym trying to decide where I want to start today. Usually, I start with the treadmill or the elliptical, but this morning I’m feeling something a little more… aggressive. I want something I can take my anger out on. I have a lot of hate that I want to belt out of my system before work. My gaze falls onto the boxing ring where two staunch men spar. It’s a start, I guess, but maybe I’ll go with something a little more personal. I look over to the boxing bags and I see…him.
Whoa.
A shiver instantly shoots down my spine, igniting something dark and sinister deep down in my core. I helplessly drink in the strangers features, gaping at him like an idiot. Strands from his short, black hair stick to his forehead with sweat and as soon as I notice, he runs his taped fingers through it, sending tiny droplets of sweat in every direction. My mouth goes dry and I want to run my lips over his moist throat. I’m suddenly aware of a strange, searing heat across the back of my neck and an electrical current I’ve never felt before tingles between my thighs as I watch his sweaty chest rise and fall in a deep pant. He glances up at the ceiling and closes his eyes, forcing his Adams apple to protrude outwards, slightly. His broad shoulders and one side of his chest are covered in intricate tattoos. Across his hip is another tattoo—it’s a sentence, but I’m too far away to read it. My gaze falls onto his black drawstring pants that hang off his narrow hips, exposing his delicious ‘V’ shape. I’ve never seen a man so… so… like him. It’s like he came straight out of a movie or some steamy, erotic women’s magazine—six pack and all.
He flexes his fingers and bounces lightly on his toes before he balls his hands into fists. His muscles tighten and twitch, work and relax, as he slams his hard fists into the large, blue bag. My entire body tightens and vibrates with pleasure every time his large fists connect. And the way his brows knit together as he swings his large, muscular arms has me squirming where I stand. I look at his face, his eyes are dark and his face serious, like the bag in front of him is someone he hates. Involuntarily, my eyes fall back to his ‘V’ shape and I ponder what exactly is under the thin fabric. The thought alone is enough for desire to start pooling between my thighs. A few seconds pass and I realize the string on his pants isn’t swinging back and forth anymore—he isn’t moving. Slowly, I drag my eyes up over his slim hips and a narrow waist, a chest doused in a thin layer of clean sweat, well-formed traps and lastly, a pair of dark, brown eyes that are...looking directly at me.
