by Bella Jewel
“Yep. When you’ve outdone yourself as a dick, you get upgraded to a dickface.”
“Nice.” He laughs. “Tell me about dickface then.”
I sigh. “A total jerk. We were really good friends, I fell in love with him, he broke my heart, you know the story. He hasn’t spoken to me much since, I think that’s the worst part, you know?”
“Yeah,” he mumbles. “It’s fucked.”
I sigh. “Yeah. He just decided it was over and that was that. It’s probably good, no contact, but it still hurts, you know?”
“I hear you.”
“What about you?” I ask, rolling to my side and putting my phone on speaker so I can lay it on the couch beside me. “What happened with your ex?”
“She left me a few months ago.”
Poor guy.
“Oh, true. What happened?”
“Not really sure. She just ended it one day and then about a week later sent me a fucking text telling me she was seeing another guy.”
“What!” I cry. “Oh, my god! Are you serious?”
“Yep, right before I was about to start work, too.”
What kind of piece of work does that to someone? Honestly? My heart breaks for him. I can’t imagine anything worse than having someone not only break your heart, but to tell you a measly week later that they’re seeing someone else.
“That’s so terrible. I’m so sorry. Did she know you were at work?”
“Yep, she knew. Who does that?”
“Not a nice person,” I mutter. “That’s who. Do you still talk to her?”
“Nah, not at the moment,” he says, and his voice sounds pained. “She blocked me.”
She what?
Oh. My. God.
“You’re kidding, right?” I say, feeling so much for him.
“Nope. I got a bit intense, I guess, trying to call her. So she blocked me. She doesn’t live here, so it wasn’t like I could just go and see her, you know? I wanted to talk to her. I wanted answers. That’s not so crazy, right?”
“Not at all,” I say, feeling angry at this random woman for being such a cold-hearted person. “You have every right to want to talk with her. I can’t believe she blocked you.”
“Yeah, she’s a bitch. Still, I love her, you know? I think that’s what makes me so angry at myself. Even after everything she’s done, if she called and wanted me back, I’d probably go.”
I get that.
It’s a sucky feeling to have, because you know deep down in your heart you’ll get hurt again and you deserve better, but your feelings are tricky things.
“Yeah, I understand that.”
“What about you? You in love with dickface still?”
Some days, I don’t quite understand my feelings for Michael. Sometimes it feels like the pure kind of love, but others, it feels more like an attachment kind of love. One that isn’t as real as I think it is. How could it be? He gave up on us so easily, so was it ever based on the right kind of attraction? “I’m all over the place with it, to be honest. The funny thing is, I swear I didn’t think I could get through another day, I was so heartbroken, and then I started talking to you, and here we are.”
He makes a low hmmmmm sound in his throat. “Yeah, I hear you. I’ve been having a hard time, too.”
I hold his eyes and smile. “Maybe we’re meant to be besties then?”
“Yeah. Maybe we are.”
I can’t wipe the smile off my face.
But mostly, I can’t believe that I’ve met someone who might not only help me, but is going through the same kind of pain I am.
There is no way that’s a coincidence.
No way.
I think I was meant to meet Roman. I just don’t know why.
Yet.
CHAPTER 3
My phone rings, stirring me from my sleep. I blink a few times and rub my eyes. I glance over at the clock. It’s midnight. Who would be ringing me at midnight? I roll over and pick up the phone to see Michael’s name flashing on the screen. My heart leaps into my throat and I pick it up. My fingers tremble as I answer it and press it to my ear.
“Hey,” I say, my voice soft, yet shaky.
I don’t know why Michael is finally calling. I don’t know if I’m angry, or relieved, or just glad to be hearing from him. Will this conversation make everything worse? Or is he calling to ask for me back? Do I even want him back? My mind spins as I wait for his voice to fill my ear.
“Hey,” Michael says, his voice the same as it always was. Smooth, charming, masculine.
“How are you?”
What as stupid question to ask. I’ve thought about what I want to say to Michael a thousand times over, and not once did I think asking how he is would come out of my mouth. Lame.
“I’m okay. How are you?”
I roll to my back, not really sure what to say. He hasn’t spoken to me since he left, and now we’re here, talking. I’ve thought about this moment so many times. When I’m walking down the street, when I’m in the shower, when I’m in bed alone. I’ve gone over it in my head, plotting out the perfect thing to say. Only now that he’s on the phone and I have my chance to say it all, nothing is coming out.
How do you explain to someone that they completely and utterly broke you?
“You’ve been ignoring me.”
That’s the best I’ve got.
I don’t even have it in me to ask why, I can only state a fact.
Michael sighs. That kind of frustrates me, but I don’t say anything about it. “Listen, we both needed time. You know this wasn’t going anywhere, and I had to do it. We can’t be together.”
“Why?” I say, exasperated.
“Because it’s just not a good time for me. I’m sorry I hurt you, but I thought you understood it was just ...”
If he says sex. If he tells me I was just sex, I’m going to die a little more.
“Don’t you say it,” I warn, my voice finding a hard tone, finally.
He goes silent and I know that’s what he was about to say.
“I thought we made it clear that’s all it could be.”
“We spent seven months together, talking, bonding, laughing, having the time of our lives together. It wasn’t just sex. You know it wasn’t.”
“It was always sexual,” he argues. “Half our conversations were sexual.”
“So? Most couples sex talk, Michael. It’s not abnormal.”
He goes silent.
“It was more than that with you.”
My heart thumps against my rib cage. I have a high sex drive. I’ve had it for as long as I can remember. I out do most men I meet, but I’ve never, not ever been slutty about it. I enjoy sex, I crave it on a higher scale than most women, but I am very selective about who I sleep with. I never thought it was a problem, not until now. Not until this very second.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap, sitting up and pressing my back against the headboard.
“You and I both know it was about sex for you, more than it was for me. God, we talked about it all the time. It’s all we talked about sometimes.”
“You hardly discouraged it, Michael,” I argue, feeling my chest tighten. Is he right? Was it too much? Am I too much? “You were awfully eager to play along.”
He snorts. “I’m a man, of course I was.”
That hits me like a hammer to the chest.
“We might have talked about sex a lot,” I say, my voice growing hurt, “but we shared so much, too. We were close. You can’t deny that.”
“Honestly,” he says, “I think you would have allowed that with any man that was giving you what you needed.”
That hits me so hard, I’m left speechless. Is he saying that it wouldn’t matter who I was with, or what they were saying, that I’d go along with it so long as sex was involved? Does he see me as that shallow? Am I that shallow? My heart twists in the most painful way, and shame washes over me. I thought I gave a huge piece of myself to Michael, I honestly thought I opened myse
lf in a way I hadn’t before.
Is that all he saw?
Is that all I put across?
“I can’t believe you’d say that,” I snap, self-defence mode kicking in. “After everything, I can’t believe you could honestly say that about what we shared. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Don’t blame this on me, Molly. I’m just being honest with you.”
“I loved you!” I scream so loudly I scare even myself. “You stupid, stupid piece of shit. I loved you. I meant that. I thought what we shared was real.”
“I loved you, too, but we both know it couldn’t work.”
“You’re a selfish, terrible person, Michael. Maybe you did me a favour after all.”
I end the call and throw my phone across the room, sobbing angrily. I’m a lot of things, I know this, but I’m not a slut and I’m not easy. I love sex, but I also love with everything I am. I was raised to give it all. I gave it all to Michael. At least, I thought I did. I thought he felt it. I thought it mattered. But I was nothing more than a bit of entertainment until he was able to move on and find someone else.
Pig.
Fucking jerk.
I turn to my side and pull my blankets up, and then I let the tears come.
Sometimes, it feels like all I do is cry lately. Angry, raw, broken tears that don’t seem to ease the ache in my heart, no matter how much they fall. Crying is supposed to ease the pain inside, but it seems it just keeps building and building. The worst is the feeling of desperation, that one that claws at your chest and makes you feel worthless, it makes you want to lower yourself to begging, it makes you want to be that person that clings on, even when all hope is lost.
I’m not that girl, dammit.
I soak my pillow with tears and close my eyes, letting the pain consume me once more, until I fall into a fitful sleep.
Some days it feels like this will never get better.
One step forward, two steps back.
~*~*~*~
I wake up with an ache in my heart that seems heavier than last night. I push up and glance over at my phone on the ground, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I stretch, rub at my chest, and then climb out of bed and walk over to my phone, picking it up. I see a couple of new messages and my heart sinks. If Michael has text, I don’t know if I want to read them. I can’t face them. I’m not even sure if I want to anymore. They hurt too much.
I slide my phone unlocked and see they’re from Roman.
My heart lightens a little.
R – Morning Bestie.
R – How are you?
I walk back over to my bed and sit down, responding.
M – Hey! I’m okay. Dickface finally called last night.
R – What? What happened? Are you okay?
My heart warms at his kindness.
M – Not really. He said some pretty harsh things
R – Like what? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want, but I’m here if you do.
M – He basically said that I was easy and would have cared about any man willing to give me sex.
R – What a dick! You know that’s not true.
M – I don’t know anything anymore. He made me question myself.
R – Don’t let him get to you. He’s just a giant dickface.
I snort but find myself smiling.
M – You’re right about that! How are you?
R – Had a shit night, too. She rang me.
Oh, no.
I respond quickly.
M – What? Seriously? Are you okay?
R – Yeah. I told her to stop bothering me, and to just let me move on, but she won’t ay.
That makes no sense to me. She was the one who broke it off with him. She is seeing another man. What kind of bitch is she?
M – What? Why? That’s so unfair.
R – Yep. She just keeps me hanging. She’s seeing someone else, but when I ask her to stop contacting me and just let me move on, she won’t do it.
What a selfish, self-centred person.
M – I’m so sorry.
R – Yeah. Worst part is I just start feeling better, and then she calls and I’m right back at the start.
M – That really sucks! We should meet up. You can tell me about it.
R – Yeah for sure.
M – I’ve got to get ready for work. I’ll talk to you later, okay?
R – Okay.
I put my phone down and walk out of my bedroom, wondering why any woman would break up with someone, move on, yet at the same time not fully let them go. She couldn’t possibly love him, because she would have never been able to move on so easily, so what the hell does she want from him? Poor Roman. There is nothing worse than loving someone with your whole heart, and having them rip it clean out and yet refuse to let you heal.
Bitch.
“Yo, sista!”
I’m barely into my kitchen when the front door flings open and Jack comes bounding in. He’s got two coffees, the legend, and a huge grin on his face.
“I could have been naked, Jack. Ever think of that?”
He snorts. “Like I’d care, you’ve got a great ass.”
I roll my eyes and walk over, taking the coffee with one hand and flipping him the bird with the other.
“What are you so happy about at this hour of the morning?”
He grins. “She spoke to me last night.”
I glance at him while sipping my coffee. “The girl who is playing hard to get?”
He nods. “Yep. She spoke to me, and it wasn’t to tell me to fuck off.”
“What exactly did she say then?”
He pouts. “Well, she said go away or I’ll be forced to hurt you, but it wasn’t fuck off.”
I burst out laughing. “Getting warmer there, Jack.”
He flips me the bird now. “It is right? It’s not as bad as fuck off. It’s like, a step down.”
“Yep,” I say, digging through the clothes on my sofa looking for my work shirt. “Next it’ll be go away just on its own.”
“Imagine that. The day she stops abusing me.”
“Keep trying.” I giggle. “One day you might actually get a hello.”
He grins, like that’s an awesome thought. I roll my eyes and laugh.
“Anyway, what’s up with you? You’ve been crying.”
Oh, my god.
I can’t hide anything.
“Tough night. I’m fine. I made a new friend, though.”
“Did you, what’s her name?”
I burst out laughing. “It’s a he, and his name is Roman.”
“Are you sure he’s not a serial killer? Where did you meet him?”
I cross my arms, shirt dangling from my hand. “He’s not a serial killer. I’m fairly certain of that. He checks all the right boxes so far.”
“Oh, my god, you’re going to fuck him. Rebound sex.”
I snort. “Seriously, is sex all you think about?”
He cocks a brow. “Coming from you.”
After Michael’s comments last night, that kind of hurts. But I don’t say anything, because Jack doesn’t mean it like that, and I know he doesn’t.
“Yeah, well, maybe I’m changing.”
He roars with laughter.
Yep.
My life rocks right now.
CHAPTER 4
“Order up!”
I rush to the counter and take the two plates, twisting on my heel and rushing them over to the table. I place them down, smiling at the young couple, and then I undo my apron and duck out back. “I’m going on my break!” I call to my boss, the head chef.
He smiles at me and nods, giving me a thumbs up. He’s only about twenty-eight and extremely successful. He’s brought this business up from the ground and has managed to run it as well as cook. Not to mention, he’s awesome. He’s easy going, funny, and lenient. He works us to the top standards, but he’s not cruel about it. He would be, without a doubt, the best boss I’ve ever had.
I get outside a
nd sit on the old table and chairs set up for the staff. I pull out my sandwich and then glance down at my phone. I see a message from Roman and eagerly open it.
R – How are you feeling now?
My heart swells. Outside of my family, it seems nobody really asks that question anymore. People just go about their day, never seeing how anyone else is. Mostly, because they’re suffering with their own problems. Roman is dealing with more than most, yet he takes the time out of his day to ask me how I am. That feels nice.
M – I’m doing a bit better. How are you?
R – I’m okay. Feeling a bit shit today. Want to catch up later?
My heart skips. It would be nice to have someone to talk to, someone who isn’t family, someone who isn’t so close to me that all they’ll want to do is offer advice on how I should proceed. Don’t get me wrong, I adore my family, but it will be nice to have someone else to talk to.
M – Yeah. I would. What are you thinking?
R – Come over, I have some food and beer here.
M – Okay! What time?
R – Whenever you finish work.
M – I’ll see you then!
R – Later, Bestie.
I put my phone away, finish my lunch, and then head back inside to finish my shift. As I drive home, I think about meeting up with Roman. Now the dynamic of our friendship has changed. Before, we were just two people who didn’t know much about each other and said hello if we passed on the streets, now we’re confiding in each other only after a few days.
It almost seems dream like in the way it has come about.
I wonder if it’ll fizzle out as quickly as it begun?
By the time I get home, I’ve well and truly over thought the whole thing, and a flurry of nerves flutter around in my stomach. What if it’s weird? What if we don’t get along as well as we think we will? What if it just feels ... strange? I take a deep, shaky breath and move to my closet where I stare at my clothes. What would friends wear? I don’t want to overdo it. I don’t want to seem too ... eager.
God.
I pick a black top—it’s pretty but not over the top. Then I pull on a pair of jeans and some flats before straightening my hair. Then I stare at myself. It’s too much. What if he thinks I’m trying to, I don’t know, hit on him? Man. I shake my head and decide to run with it. If I start thinking too much about it now, I’ll freak out and end up not going. And I’m far too curious to know how and why this man was put in my life to chicken out.