**When did it all start?** Oh, yes… In the damn moment that I accepted his proposal and became his girlfriend. If I had known this would happen, I would never have done that.
Another empty drink on the counter bitters my stomach; it dampens my nerves and makes my head foggy.
I gesture to the barman to bring me another one of those — *what was it again?*
Leaning over the counter with my head resting on my arms, I close my eyes and allow myself to relive those damn scenes that brought me to this busy bar in downtown New York… a place that’s always full, regardless of whether it’s a Monday. But unlike all the others who are there to enjoy themselves, I’m just drowning in the disappointment that’s eating me inside.
It’s all because of Eric… My scumbag boyfriend.
Well, *ex-boyfriend*…
It was supposed to be a surprise… He’s so busy with his work, being a successful manager, that lately we have no time together. That’s why I decided to go to his house, cook his favorite food, and maybe give him *something else*. I bought all the ingredients and went happily to his apartment… Of course, I should have known something was wrong when I turned the spare key and noticed his shoes and red heels were carelessly tossed on the floor.
Eric is so… organized. Even when rushing, he doesn’t leave his shoes like this.
But those red heels made a chill go up my spine. I already knew what was coming because I don’t wear high heels — not even red ones. And inside my head, a voice was screaming, telling me to get out of there, to close my eyes and turn my back… But my stubbornness made my legs take on a life of their own.
My footsteps were so silent that even I couldn’t hear them. All I could feel was my heart pounding frantically, threatening to climb into my throat. And with each step towards the half-open door, the noises became more audible — the sound of a kiss, the hollow slam of hips, and husky moans that come from deep in the throats.
Standing in front of the door, I heard my boyfriend’s voice say in a tone that I’d never heard… a voice that showed lust. *“You’re so hot, uhn, ride me, babe.”*
And at that moment, my stomach twisted.
I felt my conviction fail and started to turn away… but then, a woman’s moans echoed through my ears… She said, *“Are you enjoying it? No one makes you feel good as I do, right?”*
My heart stopped beating in that second, but somehow, I was able to open the door quickly, and its noise was louder than the sound of sex.
… And I saw them.
Naked — completely naked.
They noticed me immediately; their faces contorted in extreme surprise and confusion. But I still remember how the red-haired woman, an extremely familiar redhead, was on top of my boyfriend, riding him.
It’s my damn best friend.
My world came crashing down, as did the ingredients I was holding. She pulled back the sheet, and he tripped over his clothes, putting on his underwear awkwardly.
I even remember him saying, *“Angel? What are you doing here?”*
He looked at me and at Laura with a worried expression.
But I blinked a few times, taking in the scene with a mixture of surprise, horror, and curiosity. I knew my eyes were glistening with tears because everything looked blurry in front of me. I spit my lips apart, but they didn’t make a sound.
I simply couldn’t believe that, in our four years of dating, we never had sex. And yet, there he was… with my best friend.
Maybe I was in shock because, despite his protests, I left without saying a word. My legs just acted on their own again, and even as he followed me through the house, I didn’t even look back.
The door I slammed sounded so loud that it still resonates inside my head as I’m standing dumped in this bar, with more alcohol in my system than everything I’ve consumed in those twenty-three years of my life.
Open my eyes, I notice that my drink hasn’t arrived yet. I lift my head and look at the barman, who is looking in another direction. My eyes follow them as if attracted by magnetism… And my expression of confusion soon turns to surprise and dread because a man is walking towards me.
I scratch my eyes, hoping it’s a mirage, an illusion because of the alcohol.
It’s not.
He stops in front of me with a serious expression. His crossed arms bounce off his white shirt, which fits very well on that slightly tanned skin, and it looks so small on his body that it marks every muscle, including his eight packs.
“*Heyyy*, have you put on weight?” I ask in a slurred voice.
“Angelee.” His voice sounds firm, somewhat angry.
I struggle to take my eyes off his tall body that I shouldn’t notice… oh, heavens, I really shouldn’t notice it.
“What are you doing here, Mr. Adams?” I threw my body forward slightly and almost fell off the bench. Fortunately, he’s there to serve me as a wall, and I lean my breasts against his belly, feeling how hard his body is… like a rock.
Raising my eyes, I see that he’s also looking at me… directly into my brown eyes. His hands are on my shoulders, holding me tightly, but his touch is kind, even if he’s pulling our bodies apart.
“I should be asking you this. What are you doing here?” He asks, still with his grave tone, bringing pleasurable shivers to my skin.
“Well, I came to celebrate that I’m single!” I shrug, freeing myself of his hands, and prop my breasts up on the counter, making my cleavage reveal a bit more. “That bastard Eric was sleeping with Laura; can you believe that?”
I snort, with anger and sadness mingling in my slurred words, “It’s not enough that he’s cheating on me... did it really need to be with my best friend?”
Bringing my eyes up to him again, I notice that his gaze is soft now, “Why are you looking at me like that, Mr. Adams?”
“Mr. Adams? Why are you acting so formal?” He brings his hand up to my head and messes up my brown hair in an awkward caress. “We’re not at work now.”
“Oh, that’s right…” I give him a smile, “Right…”
“You’re drunk, Angel. I’m taking you home-”
“No, I don’t want to leave…!” I mumble, leaning towards him again, gripping his waist tightly, “I don’t want to be alone, Julian…”
He passes his arms around my body, and his embrace is warm enough to bring tears to my eyes…
Gosh, his caring touch and gentle hands running down my arms are really awaking things in me. Maybe it’s the drink or the fragility in the face of this terrible situation, but I want to stay in his arms — so I squeeze him tighter, brushing my body against his.
… It reminds me of feelings that I buried a long ago.
“Come on, Angel. We can watch those cheesy movies you like.” He slides his hand through my hair again, pulling it away from my bare shoulders. “It’s better than booze for healing a broken heart-”
“I’m not heartbroken, Julian... *I’m furious!*” I quickly pull away, tightly clutching my hands to his shirt. “He was screwing my best friend but never had sex with me!”
“Angelee…” He’s speechless, looking around, noticing that my tone draws attention.
“He’s a bastard!” I shout and get up from the bench with difficulty, tripping over my legs, “I hate him!”
Julian sighs deeply and passes his arm around my small body, easily supporting me with one hand. With the other, he pulls out his wallet and throws a few hundred bills on the counter, giving the waiter an apologetic smile, “You can keep the change-”
“Damn you!” I shout, remembering that unpleasant scene again. “I’m going to kill you, Eric! I’m going to poison that fucking pie turd!”
Julian drags me out of the bar as I fire curses to the heavens, all directed at that Eric bastard. And just as my throat starts to hurt, I stop and look around, noticing that we’re somehow in front of Julian’s sports car, his baby — as he usually calls it. A black car that, even in the darkness of night, sparkles to the eye.
“Can I drive it?” I point at the car with a giant smile.
“Are you kidding?” He crosses his arms, again drawing my eyes…
What’s wrong with me, anyway?
Julian is… not someone I should look at that way… He’s my father’s best friend!
But still, I catch myself moistening my lips slightly, looking at his body, which is simply a sin. The hours spent in the gym are certainly worth it. And despite my efforts, Julian notices my reaction and a slight cocky smile appears on his lips.
Without saying a single word, he opens the car door and points inside, “Let’s go, Angelee.”
Obeying without complaint, I turn toward him and find that he’s leaning over me, pulling on my seat belt. My eyes sustain his green eyes for a moment, and then I lower them to his lips.
Julian’s scent invades my nostrils — a subtle, masculine cologne that lights a flame in my body, on my lower belly…
I close my legs, pressing my knees against each other, and look away, listening to the low laughter humming in my ears.
“Okay, let’s go home, girl…”
