Page 48 of Retribution

As much as I am enjoying the comfort of having an entire bed to sprawl in, the bottomless pit in my heart does not seem to falter. The feeling of impending doom rises in my chest as I encounter yet another, lonely day.

I turn my nose into the flattened pillow, taking a mental note to order some new ones online. My limbs and joints ache from the strenuous week of ballet teaching, now finally having one day off to relax and catch up on my much needed episodes of ‘The Kardashians’.

Two cups of black coffee (I haven’t bought milk) and scrambled eggs later, I’ve managed to wake myself up enough to open the curtains in the living area.

I turn to drink in the expanse of the room, little bits of Scott here, little bits of Scott there.

Biting my lip, I challenge myself to clear out the apartment this weekend, it can wait. I carry my leftover cups and plate to the sink in the kitchen and begin scrubbing away, using the time to carefully debate the new routine for the classes tomorrow, stretching my limbs as I remain stationary.

My phone vibrates just as I’m putting away the now dried cups. I skip over to the couch, in a seemingly good mood.

Reed: Are we still on for today?

I sink myself deeper into the sofa, wishing it would just swallow me up whole. I already know a few things about Reed from our brief encounters.

1. He’s a shitty person. (sleeping with someone on the night of your wife’s death)

Okay. He’s actually worse than a shitty person.

2. He’s manipulative in the worst way.

The kind where he’s not even aware of his manipulative behaviors. I mean, he is insanely attractive, so that definitely helps his case. Once you look into his eyes, you are instantly falling in love with the way that the blue blends into an almost ice white in the center. The sharp contrast from the warm coloring of his eyes, to the dark and alluring features of his face.

The way his brows furrow, igniting a small crease in the middle of them. The chiseled bone structure of his face, complemented by his thick and shadowy stubble. Full lips that taunt you and tempt the lips of your own, promising that your every desire will come true if they can just have one small touch, just like Satan’s own demons would. He is absolutely devastating.

3. He is INSANELY good in the bedroom department.

Ugh, Indie. Get a hold of your ridiculously over-exaggerated, horny feelings. One man makes you feel idolized and that makes you completely and utterly obsessed with him.

I throw a quick response back to his message confirming I’ll be there.

As much as I try and convince myself that I’m doing this for Willow’s sake, so I can be there for her, there is an extremely selfish side of me that wants to do this for me, so I can see him again.

Looking through my closet, prepared to tug out a pair of jeans and a simple tee, my mind races over our last encounter. My heart starts to quicken in response, causing a thin layer of sweat to form on my upper lip. I wipe it away with the back of my hand and decide against the jeans.

I pull out a short white flowy dress with lace straps and a strapless bra. I tie my hair back into my usual loose bun and pull out a few loose strands at the front to emphasize the ‘messy’ look. The least I can do is act like I don’t care about him, or what he thinks of me, or what I look like. When in fact, I’ve spent the longest I’ve ever spent on my makeup today, chosen a slightly revealing low cut dress, and a pair of wedged heels. But as long as he doesn’t know, right?

The exterior of Coffee & Creamer sports a collection of tables and chairs, each blessed with an assortment of pastry shaped cushions on the chairs. Some have croissants, some have pretzels, some have baguettes.

I make the favorable decision of choosing the one with the croissants, with a pink throw covering the entire chair. I make myself comfortable knowing I am a little early and scan over the menu. The scent of bitter coffee and sweet pastry invade my nostrils, forming a warm rumble in my stomach.

Looks like those scrambled eggs didn’t last very long.

“Is this seat taken?” a deep voice interrupts me.

I peer up into rich brown eyes staring back at me. I draw my brows inwards, confused at the interaction. Tilting my head around his large frame, I glance at the expanse of empty tables that he’s walked past to get to mine.

He cocks his head with a smirk, the sunlight pouring upon his honey blonde hair. His attire screams entirely professional, but his face preys upon my face, nipping and biting.

“Harrison.” he sticks out a hand, which I shake reluctantly.

I let go and look around at the passers by, praying that someone will help me escape from this awkward situation. Despite my void answer, he takes a seat across from me anyway. He picks up the croissant cushion from the chair and lifts it up in front of him. To my delight, he chuckles and releases a wide grin, showcasing his perfect pearly whites.

“Cute, huh?” he gestures to the pillow, still smiling.

I nod slowly, unsure of how to react.

He props his elbows on the table in front of me and leans forward, his head resting above his closed fists.

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