Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
She must have gone in my bedroom while I was showering, which is crossing the fucking line. We haven’t been with each other in over six months. What she is doing here is baffling me.
“What the fuck are you wearing, Monica?” I ask with not one ounce of patience. This has gone on for long enough.
“I thought I’d get more comfy since I was in the car driving here all day, silly. I knew you wouldn’t mind if I got comfy, and you know I love wearing your stuff,” she says, smiling and walking toward me, trying to snake her hand into my hair. I dodge that bullet and go to the fridge to look for juice or something, anything, to make sure I’m out of reach from her hands.
“I think you should go put your clothes back on since you’re leaving in about ten minutes anyway. This visit is over.”
“Baby, I spent four hours driving here ‘cause I missed you. I know you don’t want me to leave just yet. We can have a picnic like we did back home. Remember when I was the main course and—”
Was she always this ditzy? Was she always this annoying? Jesus, what the fuck was I thinking?
“Monica, we are over. We were over a long time before we were over. We won’t ever be back to where that place was.”
“Baby, just one night. That’s all I’m asking for. We could watch a movie. Then see where it goes.”
“It’s not going to go anywhere.” I cringe, thinking of her calling me baby and think how I ever thought she was what I wanted. I breathe in deep, looking at the ceiling, not sure what to do next. After we broke up, she moved three hours away from ‘our condo’ and when I say our I really mean mine. “Okay, fine, I know it’s a long drive and it’s late, so you can stay the night, but come morning you have to go. I don’t want to drag this on, Monica.”
She looks defeated, but something in her eye sparkles. I don’t even know why.
“Okay, baby, want to order something to eat or do you want me to cook something for you?”
“Yeah, I guess we can order something for you. I’m training, so I can’t eat that food.”
I’m standing in the kitchen thinking I need to text Parker and cancel the plans for tonight. The thought of Parker writhing beneath me gets my dick semi hard, but I block it out before Monica thinks that it’s for her.
Babe, something came up. I gotta bail tonight. Will explain tomorrow.
I send the text, waiting by my phone for that ping with a response since she is always near her phone. When ten minutes go by, I look at my phone and see that I don’t have an answer, so I text her again.
Babe, did you get my text?
Ten minutes later still nothing.
Babe, call me.
One hour later.
Babe, is everything okay? I’m getting worried.
I haven’t heard anything from Parker, which doesn’t make sense. She always answers, but now my texts remain unanswered, my phone calls going straight to voice mail. I’ve been sitting down watching this chick flick, biding my time till I have to go to bed and making sure Monica doesn’t get too close.
Who the fuck knew she was this annoying? It’s been four hours since I’ve heard from Parker, and I’m about to lose my mind. I don’t know why but something in my gut tells me that something is wrong.
When my alarm rings at two-thirty, I wake up covered by a naked Monica. What. The. Fuck. Before going to bed, I closed the door and told her to take the spare room. How I didn’t hear her come in is beyond me. This is fucked up. I shake her off me while getting out of bed. She sits up and makes the cover fall off her tits, tits I loved, before Parker’s.
“Monica, cover yourself up.” I’m starting to get pissed. “What are you doing in my bed?”
“Baby, I couldn’t sleep.” She’s batting her eyes. “I just wanted to cuddle. When I came in last night you didn’t say anything, so I didn’t think it was a big deal. I mean, we’ve been with each other naked before.”
“That was before. This is now. I’m trying to be a nice guy, but”—I put my hands on my hips—“I don’t want you here. I don’t want you naked or clothed or happy or sad. I want you gone. I train till one-thirty. Can you please be gone when I get home?”
“But, baby, I booked off work for the week,” she complains like she’s going to get me to change my mind.
“That isn’t my problem. I’m here to concentrate on getting better. I don’t need nor want you here. You have to go.” With that, I turn and walk away, slamming the bathroom door. She needs to fucking leave.