another.
Me: Was that too much at one time? I’ve waited for your response for over an hour now. Emma?
I kept checking my phone, hoping she’d text me, but after the tenth time, I decided to simply send one more message.
“Fuck. I seriously need to chill,” I muttered under my breath as I texted, yet again.
Me: Sorry, Em. I guess that was the wrong thing for me to say. It was inconsiderate even. I merely wanted assurance that you somehow… somewhat… feel the same.
It was already about midnight and I stayed up late as usual, ignoring all of the dinner and party invitations that were bombarding my phone because I didn’t feel celebratory. No, I was the total opposite of that.
Me: Emma? I suppose your silence is answer enough. That’s all right. I’m not angry, so don’t worry. I won’t mention it again.
The next morning when I saw that she hadn’t replied yet, I decided to cut the ties. Why? Because her goddamned phone rang, so that meant that she got my messages, but decided not to bother with them. So ‘no signal’ wasn’t a feasible explanation.
She was probably back with her ex. Carter didn’t look like the kind of guy who would have given up so easily. No, he’d looked like he was going to do anything to get her back. Men knew men and, when a guy acted that jealous with a woman, he was going to do everything in his power to get her. Top that with the obvious fact that she loved him and then Emma didn’t stand a chance when he was going to go in for the sweep.
She belonged to him, yet it still hurt to know that.
When it came to her, I was risking far too much of myself. It wasn’t her beauty that captured me, it was the way she looked at me; like she was staring into my soul. When she touched me, it felt like she reached inside my chest and grasped my heart with her bare hand.
Emma made me feel .
As scary as those feelings were, I welcomed them because, even in that little time we’d spent together, she became someone incredibly special to me.
She was the unforgettable woman who’d swooped in, changed me inside and out and made a lasting impression as she left a scar in me.
It was very unfortunate that I had to let go. Even with the movie in Greece in the works, I would remain professional.
Since Martin wanted to meet with the both of us again and wanted to schedule a dinner appointment, I had to see her again before Greece.
Even if it was business I was texting to her about, my heart still skipped a beat.
Me: Martin called your phone, but it went straight to voicemail. I’m just letting you know that he made a reservation for six-thirty Monday night at Melisse.
After sending the message, I decided to go for a long shower, needing to clear my head. When I got out, guess what? I had gotten a reply.
Guess this was answer enough; whatever. Opening the message, it read, Thank you. Tell Martin I will be there.
Ha. Fucking. Ha.
I didn’t know what burned more, her not bothering to reply with my rejection or not caring about my feelings at all. What she did was cold; heartless even.
How could someone so sweet and angelic-like be such a cold, unfeeling bitch?
Different skins, different clothes, but underneath it all, women were all the same.
Fuck it, I was going out tonight. Fuck Emma and her being all in love.
The thought of them having sex made me cringe. Did she enjoy it? I thought, but told myself not to bother because I knew what the answer would be.
Bitterness was my sweet companion and I would be damned if I wasn’t going down drunk tonight.
A Hopeless Man Named Bass
Dinner was… awkward.
As much as it allowed me, I tried not to engage in conversation much. Seeing her did so many crazy things in me, and yet, I couldn’t do shit about it because she didn’t want me.
I tried to be polite, I really did, but it somehow all came out wrong. Maybe in Greece this feeling would change after I’d moved on from her.
After Martin signed the bill and decided to leave for the
Me: Was that too much at one time? I’ve waited for your response for over an hour now. Emma?
I kept checking my phone, hoping she’d text me, but after the tenth time, I decided to simply send one more message.
“Fuck. I seriously need to chill,” I muttered under my breath as I texted, yet again.
Me: Sorry, Em. I guess that was the wrong thing for me to say. It was inconsiderate even. I merely wanted assurance that you somehow… somewhat… feel the same.
It was already about midnight and I stayed up late as usual, ignoring all of the dinner and party invitations that were bombarding my phone because I didn’t feel celebratory. No, I was the total opposite of that.
Me: Emma? I suppose your silence is answer enough. That’s all right. I’m not angry, so don’t worry. I won’t mention it again.
The next morning when I saw that she hadn’t replied yet, I decided to cut the ties. Why? Because her goddamned phone rang, so that meant that she got my messages, but decided not to bother with them. So ‘no signal’ wasn’t a feasible explanation.
She was probably back with her ex. Carter didn’t look like the kind of guy who would have given up so easily. No, he’d looked like he was going to do anything to get her back. Men knew men and, when a guy acted that jealous with a woman, he was going to do everything in his power to get her. Top that with the obvious fact that she loved him and then Emma didn’t stand a chance when he was going to go in for the sweep.
She belonged to him, yet it still hurt to know that.
When it came to her, I was risking far too much of myself. It wasn’t her beauty that captured me, it was the way she looked at me; like she was staring into my soul. When she touched me, it felt like she reached inside my chest and grasped my heart with her bare hand.
Emma made me feel .
As scary as those feelings were, I welcomed them because, even in that little time we’d spent together, she became someone incredibly special to me.
She was the unforgettable woman who’d swooped in, changed me inside and out and made a lasting impression as she left a scar in me.
It was very unfortunate that I had to let go. Even with the movie in Greece in the works, I would remain professional.
Since Martin wanted to meet with the both of us again and wanted to schedule a dinner appointment, I had to see her again before Greece.
Even if it was business I was texting to her about, my heart still skipped a beat.
Me: Martin called your phone, but it went straight to voicemail. I’m just letting you know that he made a reservation for six-thirty Monday night at Melisse.
After sending the message, I decided to go for a long shower, needing to clear my head. When I got out, guess what? I had gotten a reply.
Guess this was answer enough; whatever. Opening the message, it read, Thank you. Tell Martin I will be there.
Ha. Fucking. Ha.
I didn’t know what burned more, her not bothering to reply with my rejection or not caring about my feelings at all. What she did was cold; heartless even.
How could someone so sweet and angelic-like be such a cold, unfeeling bitch?
Different skins, different clothes, but underneath it all, women were all the same.
Fuck it, I was going out tonight. Fuck Emma and her being all in love.
The thought of them having sex made me cringe. Did she enjoy it? I thought, but told myself not to bother because I knew what the answer would be.
Bitterness was my sweet companion and I would be damned if I wasn’t going down drunk tonight.
A Hopeless Man Named Bass
Dinner was… awkward.
As much as it allowed me, I tried not to engage in conversation much. Seeing her did so many crazy things in me, and yet, I couldn’t do shit about it because she didn’t want me.
I tried to be polite, I really did, but it somehow all came out wrong. Maybe in Greece this feeling would change after I’d moved on from her.
After Martin signed the bill and decided to leave for the
Similar Books
