~Olivia~
It’s been four weeks since Boston, and Hunter is still in the forefront of my mind. I honestly thought by now that I would have gotten him out of my system. After all, we knew each other barely two days, but something about him stuck. He’s like a piece of gum on the bottom of my shoe that I just can’t remove no matter how hard I try. It’s a terrible analogy, but it’s the best one I’ve got.
My days are filled with thoughts of him; his rum-colored eyes, that killer smile, his corny attempt at jokes, the way it felt when he held me, and yes, his cock. At night, I think about his cock, how my lips wrapped around his velvety skin, the way he moved inside of me.
I’m going to need a new pink vibrator soon. That’s how much I’ve been thinking about him.
I inwardly sigh, my heart scrunched tight with longing. It’s not a familiar feeling for me, but it’s there. I miss him. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can picture his arms around me, and if I squeeze them really tight, I can even hear his laugh.
The phone rings, jolting me out of my self-pity party. When I see it’s my publisher, I hit ignore. I’ve had a block for weeks, which doesn’t help since the deadline for my latest novel is fast approaching. Every time I sit down to write, the words don’t come. I need divine inspiration, or maybe I just need Hunter.
That little voice in my head, that also happens to sound a lot like Vanessa, has been prodding me, but for some reason, I won’t budge. He’s probably forgotten about me by now anyway. I’m sure he’s got plenty to keep him busy with those diamond-clad beauties bowing to his every whim.
Flopping back onto the bed, I close my eyes hoping to put my active brain to rest for a while. The phone rings again and I consider not answering it, but it’s probably Vanessa’s once-a-day check in.
“Hey, V,” I answer, my voice lacking enthusiasm.
“Have you called him yet?” she challenges, getting right to the point.
“Geez, you just cut to the chase.”
“Yes, which is exactly what you need to do. Stop being so stubborn and just call him. Besides, I’m dying to meet the guy who managed to capture a small piece of your heart and a large piece of your vagina in one day. It’s nearly an impossible feat.” She laughs hysterically, cracking herself up.
“Ha ha. You’re just a laugh riot over there.”
“So, do you want to go out tonight?” she counters, and I hear voices and running water in the background.
“No, and where are you?”
“I’m at the salon, about to get some highlights. And why no? We haven’t gone out in four weeks. You need a night out.”
“I’m tired, V. Charlie and I are going to hang out and watch a movie. You’re more than welcome to join us if you want.”
She sighs into the phone. “I’ll think about it. But I’d really like to go out so I can show off my new hair. All right, I have to run, they’re ready for me. I’ll call you later.”
“Bye.”
I hang up the phone and Charlie jumps on the bed, wagging his tail. “So what do you think, Charlie? Should we watch a seriously depressing movie, or something uplifting, or….” I eye my computer on the desk. “We could do some internet surfing.”
I’m a total glutton for punishment, flipping open my laptop, searching for pictures of Hunter. When the images pop up, I can’t help but smile. I reach out and run my thumb over his eyes, his strong jaw, his lips, my heart yearning for something it can’t have. I close the computer and decide to stop torturing myself.
A buzzing sound startles me. My eyes try their best to adjust to the darkness, when I realize I fell asleep and the noise I’m hearing is the intercom. I stretch myself over Charlie, who’s sleeping comfortably on one of my pillows, and push the button.
“Yes, Henry?” I answer, groggy, desiring nothing but to go back to my altered state.
“Miss Vanessa is here and on her way up.”
“Thanks, Henry.” I let out a wide yawn, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, stumbling into the living room. The light pricks my eyes and I cup a hand over them until I adjust.
Not more than a minute later, the bell rings. I stumble to the door, opening it to a bright-eyed Vanessa, who struts in as if she owns the world. Her wheat blonde hair is flowing down her back, coiffed strands of absolute perfection.
“Wow, V, that is some great hair. I love those highlights.”
“Thanks,” she says, flipping it over her shoulder in one grand sweep. “Get some clothes on, I know you’re not up for a bar, but I’m feeling like having some cake. I want to try Sinful.”
“Sinful?” I rub the sleep out of my eyes, walking toward the kitchen to get a glass of water.
“Yeah, it’s a new pastry shop that opened on sixty-seventh street,” she says, following behind me.
“Oh, I hadn’t heard about it.” I pull two glasses from the cabinet while Vanessa takes a seat on a stool at the center island. I hold one up. “Water?”
“No thanks.”
“Okay.” I finish drinking and place the glass in the sink. “Let me get dressed.”
Within five minutes, I’m back out in the living room. Since we’re not going to a club, I pulled my hair up in a ponytail and threw on some jeans and a tee. Compared to Vanessa, I’m looking a bit dull.
“Is that a new dress, V?”
“Yup,” she boasts, admiring herself in the hall mirror, adding some lip-gloss before puckering her pout.
“Well, it’s hot. I like the low scoop in the back. It’s pretty sexy.”
“Thanks.” She clicks her tongue against her teeth. “I needed a pick-me-up and this dress caught my eye,” she says, somewhat somberly, as I grab my purse from the sofa and we make our way down to street level. “Plus, it hides the bitchy side of me well, don’t you think?”
“Wait.” I stop in the center of the lobby, laying my hands on her shoulders. “What’s wrong? Why do you need a pick-me-up?”
“It’s my parents,” she states blandly, but her betraying eyes are dotted with sadness. “They’re getting divorced.”
“Oh, V,” I console, drawing her in for a hug, “I’m so sorry.”
She sags into my embrace, dampness hitting my cheek, but then backs away, covertly wiping her eye and straightening her dress. “It’s fine. Let’s go.”
Vanessa has never been one for affection, she tends to shy away from it, and in fact, finding out her parents are getting a divorce doesn’t come as a shock to me. The times I’ve been in their presence have always been very uncomfortable. They had an odd way of showing their love for one another. They never did.
“Love sucks,” she mumbles, as we pass a couple in a heated embrace, and I pull her to my side, wanting her to know I understand, that I’m here for her.
“It sure does.”
“How would you know?” she prods, bumping my shoulder with her own. “You won’t even pick up a phone.”
“Yeah, yeah, point taken,” I respond, the night breeze flirting relentlessly with my ponytail as I ponder her truthful words.
“You okay?” I press, even though it’s a stupid question. Her parents are getting divorced. Of course she’s not okay, but I also know she won’t talk about it.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I just need some cake.”
“Let them eat cake!” I belt out and she laughs, relief flooding my chest at the sound.
“Holy crap,” she exclaims, poring over all the different varieties of cake in the glass display. “I never realized there were so many different types of chocolate.”
“Well, get whatever you want. It’s on me. Oh, and we’ll get some to go, too. One can never have too much chocolate.” I grin, fishing in my cluttered purse for my wallet, a not-so-subtle reminder that I really need to clean this thing out, or buy a bigger purse.
After paying, I meet her back at the table, juggling four plates of cake in my hands. “What do you think of that guy behind the counter? He’s cute, right?” I waggle my eyebrows, gazing at his cropped brown hair, caramel eyes, and flexing muscles.
“What is it with you and trying to set me up with guys behind the counter?” she whines, perking up when the chocolate frosting hits her mouth.
“Nothing. I’m just keeping my eye out for you.” I bat my lashes and she smiles, her mouth gaping open suddenly, fork poised mid-air.
“What is it?” I probe, before turning around and finding the answer myself. “Whoa.”
“Whoa is right,” she mutters, dropping her fork to the plate with a clatter, ogling the broad shoulders, toned arms, and tight ass surrounded by faded blue denim. The guy bends to pick up a dollar bill that fell to the ground and she gasps. “Check out the back of his neck,” she whispers, my eyes traveling to the beginning of a tattoo we can barely make out. “I bet whatever it is, it’s hot and seriously twisted.”
Vanessa coughs loudly, hoping he’ll turn our way, but he doesn’t grant us the privilege of seeing his face. Instead, she stares at his ass as he struts out the door.
“Now that definitely doesn’t suck.” She giggles, her face bright red, and I laugh too, before inhaling the entire piece of cake.