I sit in my car outside Mom's house, gripping my steering. I stare at the quaint little home nestled somewhere in the middle of Sparrow Road and dread burrows deep. If I walk through those doors, I'll be alone in the house for the first time since Dad's death. The thought is isolating.Chase left for Pakistan this morning and Mom is spending alone time in a hideaway cabin in the hills. The house will be quiet. And I'll be alone.Loneliness has been the theme of my life for more days than I can count. I miss Dad. I miss Seth. It gets harder to pin Seth down with a phone call with every passing day. He calls me and I miss it. I call him back and he misses it. By the time we catch each other, he's exhausted and sleeping on the other end of the line before I can ask him how he is. He asks me to join him in every city he lands in, but I haven't had the heart to leave Mom alone, especially now Chase is gone.Releasing the wheel, I sit back against my seat with a sigh. The vermilion afternoon
I push away from the heavy bag with a sigh, then drag an inhale in through my nose. My lungs burn, and my arms feel like stones. I pluck the towel from my shoulder and swipe it over my face. I've been slamming my fists into this bag of sand for the last hour, waiting for Olivia to finish cleaning the gym. There's no one left, the doors are locked, the blinds drawn, but she insists on having everything in top shape for when it opens in the morning.I can't say I don't enjoy watching her walk around the place with a determined little pout on her lips, because I do. I enjoy it so damn much.Blowing air from my lips, I lean against the ropes of the boxing ring. She does another round, picking up a missed towel here and there. I track her every step, my shorts growing tighter every time she bends over. Eventually, she enters my area of the gym.She doesn't pay me any attention.And it drives me crazy."Olivia," I call out, and she whips her head in my direction, her perfect, long hair whirl
FROM: BLADE 7:23 P.M.Hey babe can't make dinner.Going out with the boys. Don't wait up. X-I clench my phone in my fist and slide my teeth together. Great, just great. Opening my black handbag, I toss the phone inside and glance around the room, a defeated exhale on my lips. I blink, my eyes stinging with frustration. Pooling tears threaten to liquify my mascara as thick humiliation seeps through my veins. I hate him. I hate him so much. "Excuse me, ma'am. Are you ready to order?" I startle, my attention snapping to the young waiter at my side. He taps his pen against his notepad with his long, slender fingers, his impatience a symphony echoing in my ears. I blink at him, trying to pinpoint why his boyish face, crooked nose, and long, blond hair looks so familiar-oh. Dread hurtles through me, its sharp tendrils burrowing deep in my chest. I've seen him before. He's the waiter assigned to my table every time Blade has stood me up at this God-forsaken restaurant.I must look patheti
I storm around my apartment with a box tucked under my arm, collecting Blade's belongings. Though he doesn't live with me, he sure has a lot of things lying around my place. Each of his items I collect drives a wedge of unease deeper into the pit of my stomach. He won't be happy. He'll fight me. He'll argue his right to stay. He'll try and intimidate me until I cave. I need to remain strong. For my future, and the future I want.When I've grabbed everything he owns, I run downstairs and place the box on the drive. I whirl on my heel to face my house, only to be stopped by the gentle hum of an engine and a set of headlights as they cast my shadow against the white weatherboard wall. Panic punches me in the gut and seizes my lungs. He's here."Olivia?" Blade shouts, demanding my attention. "What're you doing?"I drag an inhale through my nose and blow it out between my lips, calming my racing heart. Forcing the panic and apprehension to melt from my face, I turn to look at him. Blade ste
I pull up outside Dad's gym and lift myself high enough out of the driver's seat to check my reflection in the mirror. Usually, I'm well put together when I go to the gym. This morning, however, I look like death warmed up. My lids are heavy with exhaustion and my skin is an odd shade of pale.I spent more time trying to pinpoint the exact moment Blade turned into an astronomical douche than I should have last night. Of course, I couldn't. It's as if he woke up one morning and decided I was no longer worth his time, respect, or love. I replayed our relationship over and over and I kept coming back to the same question. If I'm such a terrible girlfriend, why didn't he leave me sooner? I guess I'll never know.Sighing, I fluff my long, high pony, lean across, and pull my gym bag off the passenger seat. After my workout, I'll need to shower and get dressed for work-which is the last thing I want to do on a day like today. Unfortunately for me, I've already taken too many days off this yea
The water is nice on my skin - a little too cold for my liking, but I need it to be if I'm going to make it through the day without relieving whatever has me wound tighter than a damn jack-in-the-box.After I dry off, I slip into a black pair of lacy underwear, zip myself into my tight, black dress, and slip on a matching pair of black stilettos. Then, I gather my things and make my way over to the foggy mirrors. I stare at my reflection. Even after the cool shower, my cheeks are still flushed.I rub on my foundation to lessen the pinkish hue, apply some subtle eye make-up, and pull my long, damp hair into a makeshift bun. It's messy, but at least it looks deliberate. Then, I swap out my makeup for my cell phone and carry my bag on one shoulder. When I switch on my phone, I'm bombarded with text messages and voicemails from Blade, Mom, and my best friend, Selena.TEXT FROM: SELENA 12:00 A.M.Why is Blade calling me non-stop?Please tell me it's for real andYou dumped his arrogant ass
I sit at work typing names and taking calls, like the good little receptionist I'm paid to be. I'm smiling, being polite, and doing everything I should as the first point of contact for the psychology business my boss, Mason, is running here. Deep down, however, I'm scowling. I hate my job. I used to enjoy the work, but I've been glancing around the same spacious, sterile waiting room for the last two years and I'm over it. I should quit and find something more fulfilling, but I'm put off by the thought of Mason's negative reaction to my resignation.I hope one day I can do something different with my life, like writing love stories or children's books. Of course, my mother doesn't consider writing an actual career, neither does Blade. When I brought it up with him, he snorted and said, "Reading sucks."Since when does reading suck? If I ran the world, people who didn't read would be the first to go. Boom. Put them out of their misery.I pick up an entered patient information form and
Selena and I pull into our favorite steakhouse off the main road, a few streets from my father's gym. She fought tooth and nail for Mexican, but I think I made it clear I never want to set foot in Maine's only Mexican restaurant again. Ever. Inside the steakhouse, a lovely red-headed waitress seats us in a large booth by a window that showcases the not-so-beautiful scenery of the semi-dilapidated parking lot we parked in, and a small block of stores that could use an upgrade. "I am so sick of living in this place," Selena groans, shuddering away from the view."Tell me about it." The waitress simpers, opening her tiny notepad. "What can I get you, ladies?"Selena doesn't bother looking at the menu. This place sells her favorite kind of fries, and she can't get enough of their specialty craft beer. "I'll have a plate of cheesy fries and a jug of your best beer, please," she says, ordering exactly as I expect her to. Even so, I still arch an eyebrow at her. "That's it? No vegetables?