I feel Writer’s eyes on me so I turn my attention to him. I know Zoey is a nurse, but what do you do?
I smile. I'm in fashion school. I want to design clothes, have my own clothing line at some point.
Wow! That's really great. I have no doubt you will accomplish that.
I can feel the blush forming. Thanks. So how long have you been in the club?
It's his turn to smile before responding, Well, I'm still a prospect, but I've been here since I was sixteen. So six years. They are a great group of guys, treat me real good ya know?
Why would you be here at sixteen? What about your parents?
Something resembling anger flashes in his eyes before disappearing. Not something I want to talk about.
It's okay, just tell me about you. I do just that. We stay up all night, me telling Writer almost everything there is to know about me. He tells me about the underdressed women and his life in the club, but when I would ask certain questions, he would shut me down. We exchanged numbers before he took me home on his bike.
Nothing, he tried absolutely nothing with me, not even a kiss. Maybe he isn't so into me after all, maybe he was just keeping me company. I decide to text him.
Me: Why didn't you try anything?
Writer: What? Lol.
Me: No kiss, no sex, no nothing. Why?
Writer: Because you are more.
Me: More what?
Writer: More everything.
I throw my phone down on my bed before I throw myself on it and stew about what the hell that means.
Diamond Rings and Old Barstools by Tim McGraw
What did I just do!?
I just fucking smiled at the girl I love while smashing a god damn meaningless whore. Oh God, and she looked so fucking pretty, prettier than I remember. Same plump lips, ocean blue eyes, long wavy blonde hair. Her just right tits, perfect ass, that flat stomach with the wider hips, giving Ever the outstanding curves. She's a motherfuckin' masterpiece.
What the fuck is she doing back? I never thought she would come back. I have played a lot of scenarios over in my head, but not one time did I imagine her walking in while I was fucking someone else. This is so fuckin' bad. If I thought I had become an asshole before, this just took the cake. Just label me number one fuckin' douche. Jesus. Fuck. And I smiled at her, goddamnit all to hell! I look around the room, everyone has their heads down except her sister.
Crazy Girl is standing there with her arms crossed and an angry look on her face. I grip the whore by her hips, picking her up off of me. She falls over onto the couch as I stuff my limp dick back in my pants, with the condom still on, before I stand up. I start to head to my room when someone pulls on my arm, I turn, seeing that it is in fact Crazy Girl.
How could you!? she signs to me with a mix of anger and hurt on her face. Exactly the same as Ever did before she stumbled her way out of here.
Not now, Z, I feel like shit enough, okay? I sign back using the name I gave her for when it’s just us. I’m hoping that she’ll just leave it and me the fuck alone.
I should have fuckin' known better when she starts in on me. You should, you prick! How could you do that to her?
You can't get mad at me for fucking another chick when I didn't even know she was coming back. You could’ve warned me, besides she’s the one who left me, remember? I give it to her straight. Really, who can get mad at me? She's the one that left, she's the one that never returned texts, and she broke my heart, not the other way around.
I'm not mad about you fucking somebody Writer, but you just fucking smiled at her while you were doing it. She's fucking hurting right now. She came back for you.
She's fucking hurting? I'm getting pissed now.
I've been hurting for the last god damn year, every fucking day since she left and went to the “big city” to live her dream. Did she care what it would do to me when she left? No, she didn't and she fucking threw me away, just like my worthless piece of shit parents did. I realize, Z, that it was a dick move okay, but it kind of caught me off guard. Do you really think I would want her to walk and see me doing that shit?
I know she can see the tears building up in my eyes. I may be a tatted up, pierced bad ass biker, but I still have fuckin' feelings. And right now, this is too much for me to deal with.
Writer. I see the sympathy in her expression.
I don’t want your fucking sympathy so quit looking at me like that. She left me, she fucking left me, Z, and now out of nowhere, she just shows up after a goddamn year of radio silence. And thinking what, that everything would be fine? It’s not fine, it’s never gonna be fine. Why couldn’t she just stay gone?
I know she left you and I know you are just saying that other shit because you are hurting. She pulls me to her, wrapping me up in her arms, hugging me tight. When she pulls back, she adds, She may have left, Writer, but she’s back now. She came back for you. She still loves you and you still love her. You can stop all of the shit you have been doing, you can get your life together and you can have your girl back.