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He knows I’m attracted to him. I imagine most women are. He’s a mix of Henry Cavill with a little Ryan Gosling mixed in.
Potent.
I hate that he thinks I lack confidence in myself and am some fumbling girl who is attracted to him. I might be inexperienced but I have a degree from Yale for fuck's sake.
I’m intelligent and, as Alexandra said, I have a top-notch agency behind me.
I will show him.
Trust is easily lost and hard to earn back.
Alexandra is right. I knew that firsthand.
I found out my best friend Nora was sleeping with my boyfriend in the last year of college. I had no idea. I guess they got a little relaxed about things because I found Asher with his hand on her ass in the kitchen.
My damn kitchen.
They’d both looked up and taken not one, not two, but three beats before it occurred to them. Something wasn’t right.
Wow.
“How long have you been fucking?” I asked them.
Cue the dual fish mouthing.
I’d then stormed into my bedroom, chucked out Asher’s stuff, and slammed the door. Fortunately, it had a lock on it.
For an hour he stood outside it, groveling until I yanked it open, and allowed myself a brief moment of joy as he fell on his ass.
“Get the fuck out,” I had then yelled.
“She’s gone. Nora is gone. Please, let’s fix this.”
“How long, Ash? How fucking long have you been sleeping with her?” I pushed past him, grabbed his bag, shoes, and jacket, and carried them out into the living area.
“Just. It. Wait, Payton. It didn’t mean anything. Truly, it was a mistake. Once or twice.”
Bullshit.
“Tell me or Nora will.” I didn’t know that for a fact, but as I stood and waited for the truth, he paled.
“Just this year.”
“The entire year. Jesus, Ash.” My mouth dropped open. “Tell me you used condoms.”
I knew Nora had been banging other guys. At least, I thought she had been. It might have been my boyfriend all along.
The guilty look on his face told me my answer.
“Let’s talk about this,” Ash begged.
“Sure. You cheated on me. I fucking hate you. Get the fuck out because I deserve better and no matter how I feel about you, it doesn’t mean shit,” I cried. “That enough words?”
Then he had the audacity to glare at me.
“I’ll call you tomorrow when you have calmed down,” he said, grabbing his bags and sliding his feet into his sneakers.
“Wow. The old calm down line. You are a prize dick,” I muttered.
