Page 119 of Play of Love
“Abi, does that make sense to you? You’re saying you’d be okay if that happened to you?” he asked. I could see the anger building. “You at least wait for confirmation that you’re done with before you jump in the sack with someone.”
“Yeah, sure.” I knew that’s what Scott did, literally. And, as he looked at me I could tell that he knew that I knew. Back when I left him, I didn’t know what hurt more. The fact that he didn’t come after me, or the relieved look on his face that told me he’d go wild and that the first person he’d go wild on was the redhead on his lap. I never needed to see to know.
“Don’t you agree?” A look of shame filled him. “Didn’t you?” That was a typical Scott question, basically asking me how long I waited after our breakup before I slept with someone.
“No,” I replied.
“Well, how long did you wait?”
I never expected to feel the slight tug of hurt that gripped my heart. This was a conversation I didn’t exactly want to have with Scott. As great as it was to be free of him, it took me a long time to get over him.
“Three years,” I answered.
When I said it, it sounded strange to my ears. It was three years before I took the plunge to date. The poor guy I’d been with was super sweet, kind, and adorable, but I had no feelings for him. None whatsoever. I broke up with him after six months, realizing that I wasn’t over Scott. Then I didn’t bother with the whole relationship thing. I just serial dated.
The shameful look on his face amplified and reached his eyes.
“Oh,” was all he could say.
“It’s fine; I know it was like five minutes for you.” I cut into my pancakes, suddenly losing my appetite. “You just wanted confirmation, right?” I shrugged.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
I lifted my head and looked at him, surprised by the apology. “You don’t owe me anything. Besides, with how bad things were, I’m sure you didn’t bother to wait.”
“I never cheated on you.” He shook his head.
“Right.” I never believed that, and wouldn’t for one second except for the serious look on his face and in his eyes.
“Abi, I swear on my life and everyone I know that I never cheated on you.” His chest rose and fell as he pulled in a sharp breath. “It’s fine if you don’t believe me. I know I gave you more than enough cause to believe otherwise.”
The nerves on the side of my head tingled with the onset of another headache. I felt like I needed to splash my face with cold water, or just any kind of water. I stood up and said, “Excuse me,” before going to the ladies’ room.
I just needed a moment to myself. Just a moment to think and process things. I walked away before he could say anything.
The room was small with a row of five cubicles. There was a door that led outside. It was open. The sink basin was better than I’d seen in most diners, and at least they had a fruit-scented hand wash and moisturizer. It showed effort. I looked at myself in the mirror and shook my head at my appearance. What was wrong with me, getting all worked up like this over the past?
Being around Scott was stirring up bad memories I’d laid to rest. I was a new woman now, a woman who was stronger than the girl I’d been when I was with him. I just had to keep reminding myself that.
I couldn’t let down the woman who stared back at me from the mirror.
Although I had makeup on, I turned on the tap, allowed the water to run, and then gathered up a handful to splash on my face. The cool water on my skin was welcoming, much-needed. It soothed my mind. I closed my eyes to absorb the sensation and waited for a few seconds before opening them.
Hopefully, I could get through this day. I didn’t even bother to wish we could get to Margo quickly because I knew this wouldn’t be a quick trip. If only I could have gotten a damn flight, I would be looking at a handful of hours, not practically the whole day. Not to mention that we hadn’t really covered much distance yet. Our journey hadn’t even really begun.
I turned to reach for the paper hand towels in the unit next to me and froze when I saw the creepy man from inside the diner standing by the door frame.
He’d been watching me. He still was.
My gaze fixed on the black panther tattooed on the majority of his neck and the nasty scar that mixed in with his beard. This guy was what Margo and I called “rough stuff,” with his large, muscular build, greasy hair, and dirty overalls. He was the kind that looked like he’d seen plenty of prison time and didn’t care if he went back in.
My skin crawled, and a shiver ran down my spine as his mouth lifted into a crude, sinful smile that made fear sweep through me. It knotted my insides and told me I was in danger.
“Wow, you look even better close up,” he stated.
My throat tightened up and I backed into the sink. “What do you want?”
He moved inside and stopped just in front of me. I looked at him, unable to hide my fear now, and unable to contemplate trying to stay calm. The stench of beer mingled with body odor filled my nostrils as he leaned closer. I coughed. The smell was bad.
