Not only because we were never right for each other in the first place, but because I’m too broken to want his love.
Oliver is all I need.
Or so I keep telling myself.
Beckham has proved time and time again how fucked up we are together. It just took time for me to see that fact as well.
“We were never official. You are my employee, and that’s how it will stay,” he says deadpan.
How has a year passed that I have been working for him? A year of ups and downs and cruel words followed by touches that make me forget everything in my world around me. Every word that leaves his mouth can be led away with one single touch.
We were never exclusive—that was made perfectly clear.
Just something that happened.
Something that kept on happening despite us trying to stop it.
We should have stopped it.
He’s my source of confidence, but also for my self-loathing. And I stand here helplessly in the night as I watch him walk away. Knowing full well, I have caused my own hurt, my own devastation.
Even if I know it’s for the best.
I will not be that girl again. I will not be someone’s second choice or fuck buddy.
But even more so, I can’t be with him because he still loves Paige.
I want to be someone’s first.
I deserve to be someone’s first.
I want someone to look at me and see only me. Not wish they were seeing the person they really want to be with. Be the touches they crave and wish were someone else’s.
I will not be that girl again.
“He left?” Rylee asks, standing in the doorway. She watches her brother pull away, his car the only noise that can be heard in the distance. “I have made you up a bed. You should stay the night. Oliver has climbed into his bed and is almost asleep.”
“Did you hear?” I ask.
She looks down to the floor. “I heard enough.”
“Do you think what I did was stupid?”
“I think it’s up to you who you choose to give your heart to. No one else should be a factor in that decision.”
Charges were pressed, but I don’t know if they will stick. Anderson’s father has been a great help, and he assists me where he can. And because of that, I am letting him pick Oliver up next week instead of going to afterschool care.
I simply don’t trust that Anderson’s mom won’t come back and try something like that again.
And Beckham? Well, it’s been almost a week, and he’s barely said two words to me. He barks orders, then he disappears. That’s the extent of our interactions.
Friday afternoon, I have to stop at the restaurant to meet Noah to sign some more paperwork, and when I arrive, I see Beckham sitting with a female opposite him. She leans in and smiles at what he says, her body language indicating she likes what she sees.
I know that look only too well.
I like what I see too.
I scan the room to check if there’s a way around them, but it’s impossible. I will have to walk directly past them. Not looking their way, I walk by their table and try not to look in his direction. It’s hard when I can feel his eyes on me, soaking me in.
“Jacinta.”
I stop. My heels halting me at the sound of his voice.
“Do you plan to ignore me?”
I mean, it sounded like a good plan in my head.
Plastering on a fake smile, I turn to face him and his companion, who’s smiling up at me.
“I’m in a rush. Sorry.”
“Noah isn’t here yet. Why don’t you have a seat and wait? I’m having dinner with him after you two finish anyway.”
“Is that why you’re here?” I ask. My eyes can’t help themselves, and they fall to the woman. She’s beautiful, very much so. Dark mahogany hair falls down over her breasts as she sits there, legs crossed. And her red lipstick begs for someone to pay attention to her lips.
I look down at my own outfit, and it’s then I realize perhaps I should have changed.
I’m still in my work clothes, but I didn’t have time to change into something else. I got home from work, cooked Oliver’s dinner for when he comes home, then slipped on my shoes and left again.
Beckham pulls out the seat next to him and nods for me to sit.
“I really shouldn’t be interrupting your evening. I’m happy to go and wait for him over there.” I nod to a spare table.
“It’s no bother. Sit,” he commands.
So, I do.
“Hi, I’m Amy.” She offers me her hand, and I take it.
“Lovely to meet you. I’m Jacinta … I work with Beckham.”
“Nice.”
“And we used to fuck,” Beckham says, then turns to face me. “Isn’t that right?”
I narrow my eyes at him and then purse my lips. “I’m sure your date here does not want to hear about your conquests,” I snap.