Page 14 of Hard to Love

“I don’t think so. I mean, yes, it’s not the best of situations, but fuck that, I’m a grown-ass woman. I call bullshit on that excuse.” Taking another swig from the Green ‘fuck you up’ Fairy.

“So it’s more? Girlfriend? That’s it—no way that mother fucker is as hot as he is and does not have a regular piece. He’s tapping someone or everyone.” She can shut the fuck up now. No. He couldn’t have spent the whole weekend with me if he had a girlfriend.

No sooner do I think it than I see Hardy across the room. Wrapped the fuck around a fucking blonde with massive ass tits. I want to hate her. Instead, I’m jealous. She has the one thing I want, his head tucked into the crook of her neck.

My chest hurts. Pains in my stomach are making me feel ill; I think I’m going to vomit. Reaching for my purse, I drop my glass, making a few looks in my direction. Sure enough, Hardy is glaring at me. Like I wanted him to see me.

“I gotta go, Christy. Hardy’s over there with a blonde. Fuck, he’s seen me. I can’t stay.” She looks over my shoulder as I stand there, hoping she’ll help me make my escape.

“He’s on his way over. She’s right behind him.” What the hell?

“Christy. Thayer. How are you, ladies?” Really, small talk? Locking eyes with Christy, I roll my eyes. Smiling sweetly, she answers him.

“We’re good. Didn’t think this place would be so crowded; we were just leaving,” Christy replies, giving me the opening to walk away. Silently begging for him to just let me go.

“Thayer, how’s the business coming along. I haven’t seen you all week, though you might be reconsidering.” He fucking wishes. I want to retort a ‘fuck you, asshole’ but take the high road instead. Slowly turning, I look into my favorite green eyes and blow him off.

“No, not at all. I had several meetings set up and a few interviews. Looks like our first job together will be next week. I suppose I’ll see you then.” Smiling, I wave with a wink. I’m brought up short when the blonde with him adds her two cents.

“So you’re going to be working with her?” She waves her arms in my direction. I’m not positive, but I believe I snarl at them. Hardy lays a protective hand on her arm as he replies.

“Yes, sweetheart. She’s my best friend’s baby sister.” It’s a knife to the heart. I hope I don’t look as defeated as I feel.

“Ah, kinda like your little sister then. Okay, babe.” Her perfectly polished nails are draped over his shoulder as she leans in, puckered for a kiss. I can’t take my eyes off Hardy, waiting to see if he accepts her gesture. I’m sure I’m green. Whether from wanting to puke or envy, I’m not sure.

“Not now, Angie baby. Public displays are so inappropriate; don’t you ladies think?” he says with a smirk and glares at me.

“Unless you’re making someone jealous. Then it can be beneficial, don’t you think?” Christy tries to argue but to no avail.

“Depends on how it’s done,” Hardy rebuts. I’m fuming by this point, so I decide to have the last word.

“Well, if you end up in their bed the next morning, I’d say it works,” I counter with a slight grin playing on my lips. His eyes are drawn to them, licking his ever so slightly. But my victory is short-lived as his date takes things into her own hands.

“I don’t think I’m willing to chance which is the best approach.” Taunting me as she goes in for the kill. Wrapping her hand around his face, she pulls him in as she fucks his mouth with a kiss. Leaving her too-bright red stain on him. The same place mine had been not too long ago.

I try to remain stone-faced as his eyes flicker from Christy’s to mine, but I know I fail miserably. The pain in the center of my chest hurts too badly to care if I appear unfazed or not. Crushed. I’m utterly speechless. And I’ve had enough of the bullshit.

“Well, that’s great. You two have a great evening. Thayer, I’m ready to go.” Without hesitation, I move with her to leave. Christy takes my hand as we exit the club. I can’t help myself; I glance back to see Hardy watches. He’s searching my eyes for something he’ll no longer find.

After reassuring Christy I’m capable of driving, I take Highway Seventeen home. It’s the outer highway, but I need the drive to clear my head. That’s not happening anytime soon. I feel as if things are out of my control, and I don’t like it. I do not like being jealous. But I am; I’m jealous as hell.

If he wanted to show me he didn’t want a relationship, he did a fan-fucking-tastic job. As if adorning himself with the blonde tramp wasn’t enough, he never refused her ‘public display,’ as he called it, to make me jealous. Knowing he could move on so soon after our little hookup doesn’t help me answer the one question I’ve had nagging at me. Why did he say, with such conviction, he wanted me?

Am I to believe he did it to show me I mean something to him, or was it to show me he was aroused by me, not for me. I’m so torn. How can I hate someone I love so much? No doubt it’s possible; that’s why people divorce. I just never saw my first love going this way. I hate myself for wanting him.

We spent so little time together, yet no one will ever be able to tell me there wasn’t a deep connection. One which goes beyond understanding. I, myself, am having trouble comprehending why he means so much to me. He does, though; he’s it for me.

When he told me about his childhood, I could see him. A small, dirty-faced little boy. His jet-black hair twisted in different directions as his apple-green eyes looked into your soul as if he was watching through a window. Him being hungry, hiding food in the woods. Living in homes with cockroaches, only having one set of clothes. My heart broke for him.

Thinking of the young man who lived in situations unsuitable for animals, child abuse and neglect rampant, yet he survived. Surviving the streets with no place to sleep or get out of the cold rain. Leaving me with nothing but more questions about us.

By the time I get home, Christy has texted three times. Sending her a quick one back, I let her know I had taken a long way home. Just needing the fresh air to clear my head. Scrolling through the rest, I stop dead with the chime for an incoming text from Hardy.

Hey.

Answer me.

Thayer, please. I’m sorry.