I sigh. The nothing defense won’t work with her the way it has with Erin for the past two days. Erin has also been on my case, relentlessly, to find out what happened the night I stayed over at “his place.” I’ve only given her the barest of details. No, we didn’t fuck (technically). Yes, I had a great time, until he got all workaholic and kicked me out. No, you can’t go and beat him up, Erin. Yes, that’s him calling me. Yes, I’m ignoring his calls.
It’s been three days since I last saw Pierce. Since then, I’ve fantasized about him more often than I care to count. Let’s just say I had to replace the batteries in my vibrator.
But still, even though he’s tried to call me three times, every day at 5PM like clockwork, I send the calls to voicemail. I figure it must be when one of his board meetings or something lets out, and he’s got me on his mind. Or maybe he’s trying to booty-call me at last. But I haven’t felt ready to face him again, not yet.
At least, not in person. I’ve been devouring articles and photos of him online nonstop, like every cliché creepy stalker you’ve ever heard of. But that only makes my chest ache and my pussy throb even harder. I can’t stop thinking about seeing him again. More importantly, I can’t stop thinking about the fact that the next time I see him will be the last.
Next time we meet, he’ll fuck me. Then he’ll pay, and he’ll leave, and I’ll never see him again. At least for now, if I dodge his calls and avoid him, there’s still one last meeting in our future. I can look forward to fucking him one last time. I don’t have to deal with our impending goodbye, not yet.
I shake my head at Gram. There’s no way to explain this to her without earning myself a beating in the meantime. She cannot ever find out how I met Pierce, or why.
“It’s a boy, isn’t it,” she says. It’s not a question. She might be ailing and trapped in this facility for the time being, but judging by the way she’s kicking my ass at chess right now, her mind remains as razor-sharp as ever.
“Yeah,” I mumble, taking my next move on the chessboard a bit more carefully. “I was seeing a guy. Am seeing, I guess. But I think he’s going to break it off next time I see him.” That’s the closest I can get to the truth.
Gram purses her lips. “Hmm.”
I expect the usual advice. If he doesn’t love you for who you are, then he can screw off. But Gram just moves her chess piece in silence, then leans back in her chair to watch me.
Nervous, I make another stupid move, and she snatches one of my pawns from the board. I groan.
“First lesson of men,” she says as she twirls my pawn in her bony fingers. “Never let them distract you from the bigger game.”
I laugh, in spite of myself. “What does that even mean, Gram?”
“It means.” She sets the pawn down with a click and gestures at me to take my turn. While I’m staring at the board in contemplation, she continues. “There are other things in life besides relationships. Those are important, don’t get me wrong. But you need to have a life too. When you have a dream you’re chasing, a goal you’re aiming for, the right man will come along and help you reach it. Because that’s what a truly good relationship is—a partnership. Each person helps the other achieve a goal they desire, and together, you make the perfect team.”
I move my queen forward to put her king in check. Gram’s eyes sparkle with approval as she moves him out of the way. “I do have a goal,” I tell her. Saving you. And getting my nursing degree. And getting a job where I can help people, where I can take care of other sick patients like my gram, and help save them all. I advance my queen again. “I have a lot of goals.”
“That’s a good start.” She taps her chin for a moment, studying the board. Then, in one swift motion, she captures my queen with her bishop, and I realize my king is in checkmate.
I groan.
“But having goals isn’t enough. You need to work toward them. A relationship is a goal, too, but it can’t be the only one, and it can’t ruin your attention span for the rest of your life if it’s going through a difficult patch.”
“We’re hardly in a relationship, Gram,” I protest. “I barely know him. We only just started going out.”
“And yet here you are, despairing that he may be about to break things off.” She tilts her head to rest it on her palm, watching me with the same sharp eyes that were just studying the chessboard. “If this boy is the right partner, someone who will help you achieve your goals, then he won’t throw that away so easily. I’m sure he has his flaws, just as you have yours—”