I’m such a fucking idiot!

The moment Freeway told me he was feeling sexy, I should've known what it meant. But no, I was too enamored with his sweet talk, too preoccupied with feeling good about myself, and I ended up falling for it again… Gah, I feel so stupid right now!

All I wanted to do was forget about WineBar for a little bit.

Forget how much I miss him.

Forget how much I love being with him.

I’m running down the hotel corridor like a lunatic, tears stinging my eyes, and I feel so mad I could tear my hair out. Even though this really isn’t about Freeway’s underwear preferences, that’s definitely the straw that broke the camel’s back.

I just can’t stand the fact that he knew I wasn’t into it, and then he straight-up lied! Ugh, if only WineBar had called, texted or, hell, even sent me a fucking message in a bottle…! Anything would do. Then I wouldn’t have to go on dates with a guy that wears female lingerie.

Everything would be so much easier if Kirk wasn’t part of the equation, wouldn’t it? If I didn’t care about WineBar, it’d be easy to forget about him. But, thing is… I’ve fallen for him. No, let me be even more precise; I love him. I really do. Of course, lucky as I am, the first man I ever truly loved had to be someone who’s as afraid of a commitment as I once was.

I thought that I knew everything there was to know about relationships and men but, oh, I was so wrong! It’s kinda stupid of me to say it, since I’m a romance author… But that’s life for you. It whacks you in the head as hard as it can, and it messes you up real good.

“Emily, wait!” I hear Freeway shout behind me, his heavy footsteps reaching me fast. I look back over my shoulder to see him racing down the corridor and, even though there’s no need for me to run away from him, I simply can’t stop myself. And so I run even faster.

He has already pulled his pants back up, thankfully, and so I’m spared the sight of him coming after me wearing nothing but a thong and stockings. As funny of an image as that may sound, let me assure you, there really isn’t anything funny about it. Sure, it’d probably make for a good YouTube video, but I bet you wouldn’t like to be in my Christian Louboutins right now.

Cutting a corner fast, I start racing down a flight of stairs, and I only ease my pace when I march through the lobby. I draw a few surprised looks from the receptionists and guests of the hotel, but this is San Francisco; no one really cares.

Running out through the main doors of the hotel, I finally stop and take a deep breath of the evening air. The cold air rushes into my lungs and, for a moment, all the stress and anxiety subsides. But then I hear him again.

“Emily!” He calls after me, stepping out onto the street. “You’ll like it!” He insists, reaching for me with one hand, but I just slap it away.

“Don’t touch me!” I cry out, perhaps more dramatically than needed. He seems a little surprised by my reaction, and so I just take the opportunity to start running again. And I do it as if my life depended on it.

Fuck! Why does everything always turns into a big mess? I don’t know if it’s my fault, Kirk’s fault, or God’s fault. All I know is that this whole situation makes absolutely no sense. I should be with Kirk right now, not running through the streets while I’m being chased down by a guy wearing stockings and a thong. Seriously, when did this go from a romance to a dark comedy?

Jesus, there are tears streaming down my face! And I don’t even remember when the last time I cried!

“Emily!” Freeway calls me again, and once more I look back over my shoulder. He’s still running after me, and so I cut to the left and start doubling back to the hotel. Maybe if I get to the room I’ve booked he’ll leave me alone.

“Crap!” I mutter, feeling something vibrate inside my purse. Slowing down my pace, I somehow manage to take my phone from the inside. My heart almost stops when I see why the screen has lighted up; Kirk is calling me.

Talk about timing.

Awkwardly, I slide my thumb over the screen and press the phone against my ear. I’m about to start talking, but Kirk’s faster than me.

“Emily, I miss you so fucking much. I don’t want to waste a minute longer. I need to see you,” he tells me in one single breath, and that’s when I stop running. I don’t even care if Freeway catches up with me. Right now, I feel invincible.

“Please, say that again,” I ask him, a sob making my whole body shake. I wipe the tears away from my face as he repeats his words, more slowly this time, and it feels as if the world has finally started making sense again.

“I need you now,” I tell him, closing my eyes for a second and savoring the moment.

“That makes two of us. Where can I meet you?”

“Meet me at the W Hotel, and please, make it fast,” I beg him, and then I just throw the phone inside my purse. Thank God Freeway isn’t as athletic as Kirk, or else he’d be upon me this very moment. Lucky for me, he has stopped at the end of the street, one hand against the wall as he tries to catch his breath. Maybe he can’t run fast while wearing stockings, I think, and I almost burst out laughing.

Instead, I just turn on my heels and start head back to the hotel. My happy ending is within my reach, I can feel it.

And I’ll be damned if I’ll let it slip away from me again.