by Bella Jewel
I nod, my stomach grumbling in agreeance. “Yes, yes, I do.”
We walk down to a café nearby and find a table outside, sitting down. A waitress comes right over with a pen and paper in her hands. “Hi there! My name is Sally, and I’ll be your waitress today. Have you eaten here before?”
Matilda and I both nod. We come here all the time. They make the best burgers and milkshakes.
Sally laughs. “Okay then. You make my job easier. What can I get you or would you like time to think about it?”
“Nope,” Matilda says. “We know. We’re easy. Two cheeseburgers and two chocolate milkshakes, please.”
Sally nods. “Perfect!”
She writes it down, takes our menus, and then rushes off. When she’s gone, I turn to Matilda. “So! Tell me about this guy? Where, how, what, when ....”
“Okay,” she says, clapping her hands together. “So I met him a couple of weeks ago, and we have just been talking casually, but today he asked me out!”
“And I didn’t know this why?” I feign hurt, pressing a hand over my heart.
She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t want to jinx it by telling anyone. So, anyway, he is gorgeous. I’m not even joking. He looks like a model.”
I raise my brows. “A model? Seriously?”
She nods, pulling out her phone and showing me a picture of a tall, dark, and extremely handsome guy. He also looks high maintenance and slightly girly. I prefer my men to be, well, men, but Matilda has always preferred the pretty boys. This one fits her perfectly.
“He’s cute,” I say. “What’s his name?”
“TJ. Gosh. He’s so perfect. It’s honestly ridiculous. I don’t know why he’d pick me.”
I stare at my sister. “You’re kidding, right? You’re gorgeous.”
“I know,” she says, flicking her hair playfully. “But he’s like ... beyond gorgeous.”
“Well, I say he got lucky getting you.”
She smiles and her eyes twinkle. “So, what about you? How have things been? Still talking to your new friend?”
“Yeah, I am. We hung out a few times last week. It was so much fun. He’s a cool guy.”
“Still got a crazy ex bothering him?”
I nod, pursing my lips. “Yeah, sadly. He text me before saying she called him last night. He’s going to tell me about it later. Honestly, the stories he tells me, I wonder how she ever held a boyfriend to begin with.”
Matilda raises a hand to her ear and makes a circle in the universal ‘crazy’ gesture. “Crazy?” she murmurs.
“Total crazy. She’s just ... How should I put it? A bitch. A total cow. The things he’s told me, I honestly just can’t understand how anyone can behave like that. I mean, I’m sure he’s not perfect, either, but what she did to him, what she’s continuing to do to him ... It’s wrong.”
“What’s she doing?” Matilda asks, leaning forward and dropping her chin into her hands. “Spill.”
“Well, she broke up with him, right? She’s been seeing another dude. Yet when he asks her to stop contacting him and just let him go, she tells him she can’t. What the fuck is that?”
Matilda scrunches up her nose. “You’re kidding?”
“Nope. She doesn’t want him, but she refuses to cut contact and let him go.”
“What a psych!” she frowns. “Honestly, what the hell is wrong with some people? They think they’re entitled to everything and anything. Oh, I’ll break up with you, move on with another man, but don’t leave me.”
“I know,” I say, crossing my arms. “It’s disgusting.”
“Truthfully, with people like that, the only way is for him to just block her and move on.”
I nod. “I know, but he still loves her too much. I think he’s holding onto hope still. I guess when you love someone and they’re giving you even a tiny bit of hope, you’re going to hang on.”
She nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, you’re right. He must be a damned good guy to put up with that, though.”
“He is. He’s a really good guy. You’ll see when you meet him. It radiates off him. You know how you meet some people and you can just feel it? You can feel how genuine they are? He’s one of those. He’d take the shirt off his back for you.”
She smiles. “Then it’s a damned shame he’s wasting so much of his time on her.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “I hope one day he sees that.”
The waitress brings our food, and our conversation is put on hold as we eat.
I love these times with my sister. I love having someone to vent to.
I hope this is all a step in the right direction.
~*~*~*~
“Wait,” I say, shifting deeper into my couch. “She text you at midnight saying she’s sorry?”
“Yep,” Roman says. “Just out of the blue.”
“What did you do?”
“I asked her if she was okay and she told me she missed me, blah blah blah. So I rang her, and you’d never guess where she was.”
I shake my head. “Where?”
“In the back of a cop car.”
“What!” I cry. “Details!”
“She had gotten into a fight with her new man and went off at him. He called the cops on her.”
Um. Psycho.
“Are you serious?”
“Yep. She was drunk, too.”
Wow. So she only calls him to say she’s sorry and she misses him when she’s jammed in the back of a cop car, drunk, after having a fight with her new boyfriend? Anger bubbles in my chest. If I could meet her, I’d punch her straight in the mouth without hesitation. How these girls manage to get men like Roman, that love them so much, is far beyond me.
Is it the abusive treatment that attracts them? Is that the reason he goes back? If she was a kind, loving girl, would she have enough to make him stay?
“That’s terrible,” I mutter, crossing my legs. “Crazy. How are you feeling about it?”
“I’m not really sure, to be honest. I told her we need to talk, that we can’t keep going back and forth like this, we need to be open with each other.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling a strange tightening in my chest. “Are you going to go back then?”
He sighs. “I’m not sure. I have to talk to her, I guess.”
My heart thuds. I’m not sure why. I don’t understand how he could possibly want to take her back, after everything she’s done to him. Surely he knows she’d only do it again. There is no way she loves him if she’s able to do all the things she’s done.
“Yeah,” I say, and I know my tone of voice has changed. I hate that.
“You’re not angry at me, are you?”
I’m not.
I wish he didn’t think I was.
You're able to see that someone is making the biggest mistake of their lives and yet you can do nothing to stop it. You’re standing in front of an oncoming train next to them, trying to scream it all in their ear, trying to tug them out of the way, all before the train hits. But they’re just watching the train, still believing in it, still so sure it’s going to stop. It won’t stop. No, it won't stop because trains don't stop at such speeds. They can't stop, they're incapable of it, it's just how they're made, so they're going to do what they were designed to, they're going to run right over top of you, and they're going to keep going, now even slowing down to see the damage they've left behind.
“No, not at all,” I say, because honestly, I’m not sure what it is I feel. I am just so worried for him, but it isn’t my place to be worried, I barely know him. “As long as you’re okay.”
“Yeah, not sure how I feel about it to be honest.”
“Well, let me know how it goes when you speak with her. Otherwise, how’s work?”
“Good, long. Pays the bills.”
I laugh. “That’s good.”
“What have you been up to?”
We chat for another hour, talking about anything and everything. We laugh a lot. And I can only hope that it makes him feel a little bett
er. Because as much as I can see so clearly how this will end for him, I also know how much it fucking hurts to have your heart broken by someone you believed in.
If she has any soul at all.
She’ll let him go.
But I can’t see her doing that anytime soon.
Because selfish people only see themselves.
CHAPTER 8
I rub my eyes and walk to my front door, pulling it open to see Michael standing there. I blink a couple of times, confused. I’ve ignored his calls for the last week, having decided I wasn’t going to let him keep ruining my life, and now he’s here, standing at my door, looking like a lost little puppy. My heart starts pounding in my chest as I stare at him. His blue eyes lock with mine.
And for the first time, I’m not entirely sure what I feel about him.
“Michael, what are you doing here?” I ask, crossing my arms.
“Can we talk?” he says, studying me.
I sigh and push the door open wider, letting him in. He walks into my house and goes straight to the kitchen table, taking a seat. I join him, staring across the suddenly not big enough space. I shuffle my chair back, but he still seems too close.
“What do you want to talk about?”
“I was wrong,” he says. “I was so wrong. I was just scared. Scared of what I felt. Scared of what was happening. I didn’t mean those things I said, I swear I didn’t. I was just having a hard time. I miss you. I love you. I know I fucked up, but I want to give it another shot.”
I stare at him.
These words, they’re the words I’ve wanted to hear for the last three weeks, they’re the words I imagined in my head over and over, they’re the words he was supposed to say back then. I thought Michael was everything. I thought he was the right kind of man. Until I met Roman. Then I realised that Michael is as selfish and cruel as Roman’s ex.
It’s up to me now whether I listen to my feelings and get hurt or have some self respect and tell him where to go.
“You hurt me,” I say. “You really hurt me. There is no coming back from that. I’m not some toy you can just pull out of the closet when you feel like having a play, only to stuff it back in there when you’re done. I’m a person, I have emotions, and you didn’t once stop and think about those. Not once. Now you have changed your mind. I can’t help but wonder why that is? Did you get bored? Lonely? Decide I’ll do until you can find something else? What?”
“I love you,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “That’s all there is to it. I love you. I wish I realised it sooner.”
“You’re wrong. You don’t love me. Because I might not know a lot about love, but I know when someone owns your heart, truly owns it, they could never treat the other person the way you treated me. They couldn’t because of the love. You’re not in love with me, you just like the idea of me.”
“You’re wrong. I do love you,” he argues.
“No, you ‘think’ you do. I should have realised earlier it wasn’t real. You just don’t destroy people you love. Whatever we had, it was one sided. I cared far more about you than you did me.”
He tries to reach across the table, but I jerk my hands back. “No. Don’t touch me.”
“Please, Molly. Give me another chance. We can try it out. I can move closer, maybe move in. It’ll be good. I don’t want to lose you.”
“You already lost me. The second you ended it without reason, and then weren’t there when I was struggling. That’s when it ended, Michael. There is no coming back from that. It hurt me.”
“It hurt me, too,” he argues.
I raise my brows. “Really, it hurt you? Funny that it seemed like you had a great time just ignoring me and telling me to stay positive. Who the fuck says that, stay positive? What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I was just trying to make it easier.”
I shake my head. “No, Michael, you’re selfish. It’s all about you. Well, guess what? There are better things for me out there, things that aren’t so damned selfish.”
“Molly ...”
“Then there’s the fact that you basically told me I would open my legs to any man willing to give me some. Those words, they hurt me more than any other in my life. I might be a lot of things, but I am not a slut.”
“I never—”
“Get out of my house, don’t call me anymore, just let me go. Because honestly, it’s over. There will never be anything between us.”
“Molly ...”
“Get out, Michael.”
He reluctantly stands, and I do, too. Following him to the door. I open it and put a hand against it, holding it open for him. He turns and studies me, and the ache in my chest explodes into raw pain. I can’t believe I gave so much of myself to this man. I wasted so much time, but mostly, I ruined pieces of myself for him.
He leans down and before I can stop him, he kisses me. I keep my lips pressed together, my hand by my side, the other on the door, and I go stiff. I do not respond. He holds his lips there for a second before pulling back and staring down at me. “I know you love me,” he says. “I know you do. This isn’t over.”
Then he disappears.
I close the door, press my back to it, and slide down onto the ground, dropping my head in my hands.
Then I cry.
~*~*~*~
I open the door and a huge smile spreads across my face as I see Roman standing, grinning down at me. I’ve missed him while he’s been away at work. I miss having someone to laugh with. The last few weeks with him have really helped. I hope they’ve helped him, too.
“Hey, Bestie,” he says, brown eyes warm. “Do I get a hug?”
Ah. Hell yeah.
I step forward, and he wraps his arms around me. He’s so much taller than me, so my cheek only presses against his chest, just barely. He smells good. Again. I breathe that in for a second, squeezing him, then I pull back and look up at him. “Want a coffee?”
He nods. “Yep.”
We walk into my house, and he plonks himself down onto the chair. I start making coffee. “How’s things?” he asks.
I turn around, pressing my back to the counter. “Not too bad, did I tell you Michael came over yesterday?”
His brows go up. “Yeah? What did he want?”
“He rambled on about loving me still and how he wants me back.”
“You going to go back?”
I narrow my eyes. “What? Hell no. He hurt me. I’d never go back to that. I have more self respect than that.”
I realise my words might come across as harsh, and quickly continue, “I don’t think I feel the same way about him anymore.”
“Yeah,” he says, his voice a little less enthusiastic. I hope I didn’t offend him with that comment. “Do you think he’ll leave you alone?”
I shrug. “I don’t honestly know. I blocked his number, but whether that’ll keep him away, I don’t know. Anyway, what about you? Have you spoken to twat face?”
He laughs lightly. “Yeah, spoke to her this morning.”
“And?” I urge.
“Calm down, woman, if you let me talk I’ll tell you.”
I grin.
He rolls his eyes.
“She basically said her feelings for me aren’t what they were before. I told her to just end it then, and let me move on, but she wouldn’t. She still won’t say the words, she still won’t completely let me be free. She still keeps me hanging on.”
God.
I hate her.
“That’s so fucking annoying,” I mutter. “Seriously, if her feelings aren’t the same, and she doesn’t love you, then why the hell won’t she just let you go?”
I know the answer to that, but I kind of want him to figure it out on his own. Some battles you can’t fight for other people.
“I don’t know. I told her we’ll just be friends. I think she’s still with this other guy, she said something about him owing her money. That pissed me off.”
So she’s staying with another man because he owes her mo
ney, yet she won’t let Roman go because he gives her support. This bitch needs a therapist. Stat.
“You can’t be friends with someone that hurt you like that.”
He glances at me. “I can’t just stop talking to her. I’m not that kind of person. I’ll always be there for her. I’m like that. I’m too nice sometimes.”
I want to say something, but decide against it. I hope one day he’ll see that you can be a good person, you can be a giver, but you don’t always have to take crap from other people. When people treat you with disrespect, when they treat you like you’re nothing, when they don’t give a single good thing back, you can’t give them anymore than they give you.
I hope he figures that out. I truly do, because as long as he keeps giving to her, she’ll always take.
Because that’s what people like her do—they take take take.
“Yeah,” I say, smiling. Time for a subject change. “My sister found herself a new boyfriend. He’s so freaking pretty.”
“Show me a picture,” he says.
I pull out my phone and scroll through until I find a picture, then I show him. He rolls his eyes and mutters, “That’s just rude. Look at him. He’s fucking perfect. I bet he has a perfect name, too.”
“His name is TJ.”
Roman snorts. “It doesn’t suit him. I’m calling him Calvin. He looks like a Calvin.”
“Calvin Klein?” I giggle.
He nods, grinning.
“It’s ridiculous how pretty he is, hey,” I say, taking my phone back. “She text me this morning saying she’s bringing him over later to meet me for a drink. You want to come?”
Roman nods, eyes wide, massive grin on his face. “Hell yeah I want to come. I need to meet this man. I better go home and find my nicest shirt, he’s going to make me look like shit.”
I laugh. “Pretty sure he makes everyone look like shit.”
“You know what would be funny?” Roman says, and his eyes light up. I notice they do that when he gets excited about something. “I’ll just be sitting there, and mid conversation I’ll just pull my phone out and check my reflection in it.”
I laugh. “Oh, my god, that would be so funny. You could wink at yourself, purse your lips, nod your head, really get into it. Then put the phone down and just keep talking to him.”