Page 76 of Addicted Lies

“No,” I repeat.

We step out onto the street, and I pass his parked car. He keeps following me.

“The day after?” He’s persistent. I’ll give him that.

Sucking in a breath, I turn to face him.

“Stop,” I tell him. “Stop and go home.”

He smiles at me as he steps closer. “I lied. My birthday is next week. But I was hoping it would work.”

Huffing, I continue walking. This time, he doesn’t follow.

I manage to get to work on time, his words playing on my mind the whole time.

Tuesday, I once again find him waiting in the hallway. I close and lock the door behind me and don’t accept the coffee.

Wednesday is the same thing. He doesn’t speak, and I’m thankful for that. I feel like I might give in if he does. I can only take so much of this back and forth. And whenever I try to push him out of my mind, he’s there.

Thursday, he isn’t there, though.

Friday, he isn’t either.

By Saturday, I’ve checked my phone multiple times, expecting a text, even though that’s never really been our style, but there’s nothing.

I bake. I bake so fucking much that my apartment is overflowing with food.

And then I cry.

I wipe at the tears, not able to stop them.Why won’t they stop?

Fuck my life.

My phone rings, and I ignore it.

How did it even get to this point?

I pushed back so much. So why do I feel so fucking miserable with everything, even when I’m sticking to my guns and not buying into his games? I want to romanticize it. I want to think he’s trying because he wants me. But I don’t think Ford is capable of that. Even when he lets me in a little, it just doesn’t feel like it’s enough.

Or maybe it’s my own reservations about giving my heart fully to a man I think is incapable of handling it with the love and care it deserves, which is ridiculous. I have so many people who love and care about me, but this feels entirely different. I’m coming to realize that love is a shitty thing. I begged, kicked, and screamed for my brother to get out of my way and let me date, and now I’m not sure why.

I got lost in a secret relationship that was only sex.

I’m not that girl. I’ve always wanted commitment. I want a man to want me forme—every part of me, not just my body. And don’t want him to look at another woman the same way he looks at me.

I want what my parents have.

Yet, here I am, single, alone, and baking in my kitchen. Crying over a man who tells me sweet nothings but can’t back them up. And I know it’s an excuse because I’m somewhat the same. What a mindfuck.

Glancing around, I decide I need to get rid of all of this food. There’s no way Ivy and I can eat all this. And I know someone who would, but I don’t want to see him.

Picking up my phone, I see two missed calls from Jewel. I like her a lot. She’s a total badass who knows what she wants. But I can’t say we’re particularly close. Calling her back, I wipe at my face, knowing I probably have cake batter over it. I lick my lips and can taste the buttercream icing I put on the cupcakes.

“Oh, hey. I know it’s late, but I desperately need help,” she says, sounding frustrated.

“Yeah?”

“Well, Eli said you can bake?”

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