wearing ear buds glances at me, his brows dip when he realizes I really am talking to myself and not to a Bluetooth.
Blushing, I clamp my lips shut as he takes a step away.
Then the little white walk icon flashes and just as I’m getting ready to walk across the street, the door opens and my stomach bottoms out.
He’s dressed in a pair of distressed jeans that hug his slim hips in a way that makes my breathing hard, a white shirt that clings and shows off his finely chiseled chest and abs and a dark pair of sunglasses. Brushing a strand of wavy hair out of his face, he leans against the brick face wall and tilts his head up to the sun.
Someone bumps into my shoulder, making me stumble.
“Sorry,” I hear a mumble, but I don’t look and I think I might have said something back, but I’m not sure it’s anything coherent.
Ryan is gorgeous.
Drop sexy, beautiful. The sun glints off his dark hair, highlighting strands of red throughout. He’s not looking at anything, I have to think his eyes are closed, which means I can’t stop feasting on him.
The man reads books-- great, wonderful, literary classics. He loves sushi. Has terrible taste in coffee, but that’s such a minor sin compared to the fact that he makes me laugh and for whatever reason, makes me feel again.
All that talk this morning about not wanting him in my life… it’s all lies, all stupid, stupid lies. Because I’ve never been so intrigued in my life-- he’s funny and sweet and so terribly wounded that it calls out to me.
Just as I’m ready to finally walk across I notice the light has switched again, impatient now, I debate whether to call his name and call him over to me, but then the door opens again and a woman walks out.
I recognize her immediately and the claws come out, a hot tide of heat slithers and slinks through my gut and I recognize it for what it is. I’m jealous. Disgustingly, getting ready to snarl jealous.
It’s the blonde bimbo, and she’s rubbing up next to him. My nails dig into my palms. Smiling broadly, he tilts his head back down and then wraps his arm around her waist as he whispers something in her ear.
She drinks from her cup, and then rubbing noses with him, steals a kiss.
Anger burns through my eyes, heats them and my vision starts to blur and I can’t believe I want to cry. I’m so stupid to care, he and I aren’t dating. Because of me, because I’d shot him down in the zoo, I’d rubbed myself like a freaking cat in heat on Frankie… I did this.
Then he stills, like some sixth sense draws him to me and I know he sees me. His entire body is tense, his arm drops from bimbo’s waist and I bite a corner of my lip, wishing I could say something, do something.
She’s running her fingers through his hair and he’s shrugging her off, looking like he’s getting ready to take a step forward.
But I can’t talk now, not without letting him hear my voice break, or see my eyes tear up. So I do the only thing I can, I twirl on my heels and run.
It’s been two days since I’ve seen Ryan. I’ve avoided Chai Time like the plague.
And I keep telling myself that running off the way I did wasn’t really that bad, that maybe he hadn’t really seen me, been too busy with the bimbo groping him up, but unfortunately my heart doesn’t agree. Every time my phone rings I experience a momentary thrill of adrenaline only to be replaced by disappointment a second later when I read the number.
I’m an idiot to hope he’ll call. Especially after the way I ran off, but seeing him with blondie, hugging him, him smiling and laughing and looking so good, my heart had twisted painfully. I liked this new Ryan, a lot. Too much.
So much, that I kept forgetting this Ryan and the one from February are the same guy.
Mama notices my mood. She notices everything. I think she knows it’s about a guy, and probably