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I grunt. My mom has basically turned me into her personal errand boy. My younger brother is on a contract job in Brooklyn and she doesn’t miss an opportunity to send him homemade meals whenever she can.
“Fine.” Running errands for her whenever I can is the best I can do to thank her for raising Alessa. “Tell Mr. White he can keep his money too.”
She smiles. “Thank you son.”
“Grandma! I’m taking the ice cream out of the fridge,” Alessa yells from the kitchen.
We both laugh. She’s such a troublesome rabbit.
“I’m coming!” my mom yells back, pushing up to her feet. “I better go and see what Alessa is up to.”
After she left, I recline in my chair and reflect. My first thought is of Alessa and how I can never fill the void of a mother in her life. Then, my mind wanders to Anya. It's already morning, and I wonder if she has woken up yet. She probably has a bad hangover and no one to take care of her.
Of course, I won't be the one to do so, but it amuses me to consider driving by just to check on her well-being. And who knows, maybe I'll even accompany her to the concert as her plus-one.
CHAPTER 3
Anya
Iwake up with the worst headache and I feel sick. So much for drinking myself to a stupor last night.
I hold my head and stare at the ceiling. It takes a couple of minutes after I wake up to realize that I’m at home, lying on my own couch. The last thing I remember is kissing some guy, a handsome guy last night. I throw a hand over my mouth and jolt up. I kissed him.
Shit.
I look down at my body; I’m still fully clothed, and my bra intact, which means he didn’t touch me inappropriately. I mean, I wouldn’t have minded if we’d hit it off last night, but he respected that I was drunk and didn’t do anything.
A coy smile tugs at the corners of my lips. I had been certain that he desired me as much as I did him. The way his eyes lingered on my curves and the heat in his touch were all signs of his own carnal desires. But beneath his primal urges, I could see the genuine goodness in him - a rarity in these times where most men are nothing but self-serving bastards.
My grin fades when I glance at the tickets strewn on the coffee table. I had been anticipating the concert, but now it seems like I'll have to go by myself. It's not my preference to go alone, especially with everyone else bringing their significant others, but I can't let the money I spent on both tickets go to waste either.
A sigh escapes my lips as I struggle to my feet and pad to the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. It’s my last semester as a vet student and I have to leave for a seminar in about an hour.
After my coffee, I quickly take a shower, put on a simple summer dress, and hurry out of the house.
The professor in charge, Mr. White, is already at the podium as I slip inside the large hall and make my way to a chair in the back row. Whether he notices me or not, he doesn’t say, which I’m grateful for.
Maybe it’s because it’s his last day as a professor, but he goes on to give a long speech about how happy he is as our professor. Before we part ways, he wishes us the best and expresses his pride in our pursuit of becoming veterinarians. He even offers the opportunity to work at his small town vet clinic if we struggle to find a job in the city. This conversation takes up nearly an hour of our time.
Afterwards, I head to a nearby café for breakfast.
Time flies by very quickly, and by evening I’m rummaging in my wardrobe for a dress to wear to the concert. There’s a pile of clothes on the floor and even more clothes on the bed.
It’s been a while since I invested in nice clothes for a night out. In fact, I doubt I’ve bought any in the two years I dated Spencer. For him, dating meant me going over to his tiny apartment, sharing a box of pizza, and cuddling to watch a TV show. It sounded cool at first, but apparently he only did it because that was all he thought I was worth.
Turns out, he’d taken the other woman on dates, a lot of times. Or maybe I was the other woman.
A surge of anger pulsates through my body, tightening my chest and making my blood boil. I can feel the rage coursing through my veins, fueled by my own stupidity and blindness. I had been ignoring all the red flags that now seem glaringly obvious. It's a bitter realization, one that leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
A sigh drags up my throat as I return my attention to my closet. I spot a red dress I got some time ago. I’ve only worn it once for a dinner party with my cousin, before she moved to the small town where she currently lives. It’s a silky, thin-strapped dress. Nothing too fancy, but perfect for a classical music concert.
I smile as I grab it from the closet and get dressed. My mind briefly darts to the man from the bar last night as I do my makeup. He’d been so freaking handsome that I forgot to breathe each time I looked at him. If I hadn’t been wasted, I would have asked for his number, or maybe I would have invited him to the concert. He didn’t strike me as the type who would hook up anywhere outside the club, but I may have been wrong. I misjudged him last night anyway.
After getting my makeup just right, I spend an extra twenty minutes curling my hair to perfection. As a final touch, I grab a silver purse that complements my silver heels before heading over to the full-length mirror in the corner of my room.
I look good. I guess this is what they call the breakup glow. Not that I’d date anyone yet; I don’t want a rebound, but a fling doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Maybe I’ll meet someone who’s up for hanging out sometimes. It’s moments like this that I miss Gianna. We’d be drinking and cussing out our exes if she were here.
My attention is caught off guard when the doorbell rings. I don't often have unexpected visitors and I haven't ordered any packages, so I'm left wondering who could be at my door as I make my way to the small foyer of my apartment and swing open the door.
