Laura

 

 

 

Steven didn't take the breakup as hard as I thought he would. If anything, he seemed to be more annoyed than sad about it. He knew something was up, and when I insisted on paying for both of our drinks, he cast me a suspicious look. We sat down on stools at the far end of the bar, and I nervously tried to engage in stupid small talk until our drinks arrived. When I could finally bring myself to say what I should've said a long time ago, Steven just looked at me with an apathetic expression, nodding and taking a big sip from his drink. I was the only one who shed tears about our breakup, at least in public.

I have no idea if it actually hurt him worse than he let on, but based on the way he acted last night, it didn't seem to me as if he was very hurt. He was so composed and serious, talking to me in a matter-of-fact voice but avoiding my eyes. When I told him that I was very sorry about this, he just glared at me, saying, "You should be."

We didn't stay long after that. He finished his drink and told me that I should get my stuff, if I had anything at his place that I wanted back. I couldn't think of anything, but asked him the same question, unsure whether I might have anything that belonged to him.

"I don't think you do," he said. "You never asked for anything. And I never left anything."

His words hurt, not so much because of what he said, but the way he said it. His tone was cold and unforgiving, and when I told him goodbye, he just rolled his eyes at me.

What a waste of time I'd been for him.

I felt awful, and I still do. I went home with my shoulders sagging low and my eyes glued to the ground, feeling lonely and lost. There was a sense of relief, too, but I felt bad about it. He was, after all, a good guy, a nice guy, and he never did anything bad to me. I can't shake the feeling of having taken advantage of him. He was like a test dummy for me, a way to see if I could be attracted to anyone else, to have that same feeling of excitement with anyone but Ryan. I took him for a test ride of some sort, and then I got rid of him as soon as I realized that he was not doing anything for me.

I feel like the worst human being on the planet.

"You're not," Layla assured me when I got home. "You did the right thing."

"Maybe, but I should have done it a lot earlier," I replied, casting her a guilty look over the bottle of wine we were sharing.

She sighed and bobbed her head from one side to the other. "Yeah, you kinda should have."

Her honesty is painful.

It's time for me to get back on my feet. Breaking up with Steven was only the first step in the long journey that lay ahead of me. I need to take a hard look at myself and really focus on finding my place in life.

I decided last night that I needed a timeout from everything to do just that. Be by myself, contemplate, find myself by actively searching within me. No distractions. Just me.

And I know exactly where to go for that.

Griffith Park is one of the most popular destinations for hiking in the area. I've been there several times, but never by myself. It's been a while since Layla and I last made our way up the hill, surrounded by a crowd of other people as it was a sunny day on a weekend. I reckon that the place will be a lot more deserted on a Monday morning, so I decide to make my way up there the very next day after breaking up with Steven.

Layla is surprised to see me getting up before she leaves for work, casting me a worried look as we pass in the hallway.

"Couldn't sleep?" she asked, already dressed and ready to head out the door.

I shook my head no and told her about my plan.

"Finding yourself on a long hike," she concluded. "Very cliché, but it may just work. Good luck!"

She blew me a kiss before closing the door behind her.

Good luck. I may need that.

It's sunny and warm when I step outside, but not yet hot. Summer is still a few weeks away, and I'm glad that my spontaneous self-finding hike idea didn't come to me in the middle of the summer. I take a deep breath, smiling as the sunlight hits my face. I head over to my car. I barely ever use it, mainly because I have nowhere to go, but I love my blue mini cooper. It's the first car I've ever owned, and certainly not the kind of car I expected to drive at this stage in my life.

Traffic is always a hassle in this city, and I'm glad when the streets finally clear around me as I get closer to Griffith Park. There aren't many other cars in the lot where I park mine, suggesting that I was right in assuming there wouldn't be that many people around on a Monday morning. I get out of the car, stretching my limbs and breathing in the fresh morning air before I begin my hike. As I leave the lot to go up the hill, I notice another car coming to a halt in the parking lot behind me, but I don't cast more than a quick look back over my shoulder and keep going.

There might be more people as it gets later in the day, but for now, it's just me and nature. A refreshing breeze travels across my skin, making me wonder whether I should go back to the car to fetch my sweater. I decide against it. Walking will warm me up, and it will only get warmer as the day goes on.

I trudge my way up the hill, following the same path I've walked before, as my mind wanders. I recap the last few months, the last year, trying to remember anything that sparked my interest, any thought or idea that popped up for a few moments before passing into oblivion. I know I have a tendency to forget about things if I don't force my mind to hold onto them. I'm angry at myself for not spending more time with myself, focusing on what it is that I want to do with my life instead of worrying about my pathetic love life. It feels as if I've spent most of my time dwelling on Ryan, trying to get over him by putting out my feelers and then taking the very first guy that comes along. I didn't date anyone else, didn't even flirt with anyone. I've never been good at these things, so it's no surprise that there has never really been anyone but him.

Anyone but the guy who made me call him master. The guy who bought me for a night and then forgot about me.

I wonder if that's true, if he really did forget me? Did he ever think of me again? Did he miss me? Even a little bit? Did he maybe even regret his decision never to see me again?

I doubt it. If he did, he could have contacted me. He was the one who set up those ridiculous rules, which allows him to break them.

It's been almost a year since I said goodbye to him. If it's true what he told me, it should be about time for him to do this again, with another girl. He told me it has to be someone new every single time. For reasons I can’t seem to understand. His strict rule is so hard for me to understand that I'm beginning to doubt it. Maybe he just told me all of this to make me feel special? But why would he do that? And why pay me such an insane amount of money for something I might have done anyway? Even though I'm pretty sure things would have been different if there had been no payment involved. This way, it was clear to me what my role was supposed to be, even if it seemed to come naturally to me. I plunged in at the deep end without spending too much time thinking and wondering about it. I knew who I was to him – and I knew who he was to me.

Or so I thought.

I'm breaking a sweat, fighting my way further up the hill as my breathing accelerates. I was so deep in thought that I hadn't noticed how far I’d gone already. I'm nearing a little plateau that I remember is a very nice resting spot. I'm going to stop to rest and take in the view of the city below. It's a clear day and I'm sure the view will be beautiful.

As I walk further, I make my first resolution. I need to work out more often. I'm gasping for air by the time I finally reach that little resting spot and slump down on a bench. I feel as if I just finished a marathon, even though I must've been walking for less than half an hour. I'm not even half way up to the top.

I wipe the sweat off of my forehead and wait for my breath to calm. My eyes wander across the vast valley that spreads in front of me, a smoggy skyline consuming the center of it.

My next resolution is to leave men out of the equation. If my brief and uneventful relationship with Steven has taught me anything, it's that I'm not ready for anything new, anything serious. It's too soon, and it shouldn't be at the top of my list. I should concentrate my focus elsewhere.

Just as I affirm this resolution with a confident nod, I hear a crack behind me. It doesn't sound like a squirrel scurrying through the bushes, but more like a human footstep, which frightens me. I hastily turn around to check my back – and freeze in shock.

There, standing a few feet away from me on the path, wearing a pair of snug dark jeans and a matching polo shirt that stretches around the muscles of his upper arms, is the man who has inhabited almost each and every one of my thoughts for the past year. His hair is tousled, sweaty strands frame his forehead, and his chest is laboring under heavy breaths, as his piercing blue eyes – the ones I’ve seen endlessly in my dreams – are fixated on me.

It’s my master... Ryan Hawkins.