BAD BOY ROMANCE: A Wifey for the Bad Boy (Contemporary Alpha Male Romance Book) (New Adult Alpha Male Romance Short Stories) (63 page)

Chapter 3

I tried to talk to her about it but I hated rocking the boat because I was always afraid that I was in the wrong. That was a mistake I had made with a number of my exes, I let things bother me and fester inside me until it became too late and the issues were too much and they made us explode. But Lacey wasn't like that usually; I could talk to her and be one with her. But it felt like she changed, that the job changed her. She was tired and stressed and the things we used to together I ended up doing alone. I could tell we were drifting apart and I wanted to save us but it felt like I was the only one that was trying.

And then came the e-mails.

It happened so innocuously. I was going to show her an interesting blog post I had read about the role of lesbians in popular culture and her laptop was closer than mine so I lifted the screen and she froze.

“They don't mean anything,” she said. I furrowed my brow in confusion and I stared at her. The color drained from her face and she looked guilty. My insides spilled and I could feel something crawling over my skin, a fear of something that I didn't want to be true. One of the tabs was open on her e-mail. My throat ran dry and I almost didn't look at it, almost buried my head in the sand, and the stupid thing was that I probably wouldn't even have noticed had she not said anything. But she had. And I couldn't ignore that.

I slowly moved the cursor to the e-mail tab and my eyes searched the screen. There were a number of messages from a woman named Rebecca, with pictures attached, laying on a bed with her hands draped over her body, tempting, teasing pictures, the kind that Lacey had always laughed at. But there were sitting on her laptop, the suggestive text of the e-mails was pushing and intimate, and when I read the replies my throat tightened again and I wanted to turn back time to just a few moments before so that I could live in the bliss of ignorance.

The words were made up of little black letters on the screen yet they were burdened with such weight. I couldn't believe that Lacey was the author of these steamy, innuendo-laden messages. There was such freedom in the words—such passion—a far cry from the closed-off woman that I had known for the previous few months. I looked at her and pushed the laptop away, not wanting to read anymore. I had so many questions that I didn't know where to being. In the end I started with the obvious.

“Who is she?” I asked.

“Just someone I met at a conference. We had a few drinks and we got to talking. It was boring and we both needed the entertainment. Nothing happened though.”

“You call this nothing?” I said, gesturing to the screen. My eyes looked to the laptop again and I saw that woman with her long raven hair and her perfect almond-shaped eyes, and those slender curves that were just waiting to be explored.

“I mean...I didn't sleep with her,” Lacey said, a look of apology on her face. She moved into the room and tried to take my hand but I didn't want to be near her, didn't want to have her touch me with those same fingers that had typed those words to Rebecca. Rebecca. I hated that name.

“You wrote about it though. You
thought
about it. Am I not enough for you?”

“Of course you are baby.”

“Don't 'baby' me.”

“Please don't be like this.”

“What should I be like? Should I say okay it's fine carry on with your cyber affair? Should I lie and say that this doesn't bother me? Should I not bring up the fact that I've been feeling so lonely ever since you started this new job but I haven't said anything because I didn't want to stress you out even more, but now I find that instead of coming to me you turn to this Rebecca.”

“It's just...it's easy with her, I can just lose myself...”

“You're supposed to lose yourself with me. I'm supposed to be the fucking love of your life,” I said, my voice cracking with emotion. Lacey was quiet after that. She closed the laptop and sat down. The tension rose between us and the blood boiled under my skin. I wanted to hit her, to scream at her, but I was impotent with rage so I just stood there simmering, listening to her tell me her sob story about how she was under so much pressure and didn't want to dispel the image I had of her. How she wanted to prove that she could handle things and that Rebecca was just a way for her to escape from her life for a little while, to pretend that she was someone else. It all seemed like a hollow excuse to me and I didn't understand any of her reasons but she begged and pleaded with me to stay and work things out and I did because we were the couple that everybody wanted to be. We were the ones that everyone was envious of and I liked that about us, and surely in relationships you were supposed to keep trying even if you hit a bump in the road because you had chosen that person and that meant you had to compromise and sacrifice your own ego sometimes. But I made her delete the e-mails and block Rebecca and we promised never to talk about it again.

That night we made love but it left me unsatisfied. I could only think about what she had described to Rebecca and even though she said nothing happened I knew that Rebecca must have invaded her thoughts, that Lacey would have thought about sharing a bed with her, about peeling away that soft silk to get to the perfect curves and the undoubtedly shaved wetness, to taste and bury herself inside Rebecca, feeling the trembles of her body as the moans escaped her lips. 

I kept my mouth closed as I didn't want her tongue inside my throat. I let her fingers inside and I tried to let the pleasure wash through me as it usually did but my body was shut down. I heard her moaning as she rubbed herself, trying to force us back into an orgasmic heaven but my body was empty and I just wanted it to be over.

I felt the wet stains against my leg as she nestled up against me, murmuring that I was the best lover ever and nobody had ever turned her on as much. It all rang hollow to me though, and it felt like she was saying it to make up for the hurt she had caused, like it was all some sort of performance. I let her cuddle me but I felt stifled, imprisoned by my love for her. Had I given my heart to the wrong person? I didn't know, but I lay awake as she slept, and it was obvious that she wasn't plagued by the same demons as I.

We limped along as a couple after that. She tried harder to make things up to me but the more she tried the more forced it felt and there was a barrier between us. People still said that we were the ideal couple when they saw us out and about,  but I think that was borne from their memories rather than what they were witnessing,  because I certainly didn't feel happy. It's always struck me strange at how fragile love is. People would have us believe that it's the strongest thing in the world, that it can survive anything, but when things happen like they did with me and Lacey, love evaporated quickly, and we went from being so close to being strangers. We still had sex but it was more out of habit and routine than anything, until we stopped altogether.

I think we both wanted out but it would take one of us to form the courage and pull the plug. Of course that was Lacey. When she finally suggested it I agreed with her. I wondered if she had started talking to Rebecca again, or if there was someone else that she was exchanging e-mails with, but I didn't ask. Not at that point anyway. Afterwards, with all the phone calls, it came up. I'm not proud about how I handled the aftermath of our break-up but I'm only human, and she's a bitch.

Chapter 4

There are a few stages you go through when you're first single again after being in a relationship, especially one that ended badly. To start with, there's a feeling of loss, and you start to realize how alone you really are. I became aware of this because of the small things, like something left in the fridge that Lacey had bought, or a movie we had recorded to watch together, and it made me feel this all-encompassing loneliness that suffocated me. All the plans we had made were never going to come to fruition and it wasn't just her I was saying goodbye to, it was a whole future of us being together.

But after that initial depressive shock there's a period where you are elated, and the world seems filled with possibilities. There are opportunities everywhere and you're overwhelmed with a feeling of purpose. Creative energy swarms over you and you start thinking about all the free time you have to pursue projects, finally writing that book or watching all those movies that you could never watch when you were together because she didn't like Nicolas Cage, and now you wonder how you could ever have been with someone who didn't like Nicolas Cage. And then you start thinking about going to a cookery class, and going dating again, and you start to notice all the pretty people around you but then you see the couples as well and you reach the third stage, where things balance out.

That's the stage I hated because there was nothing to be happy about. It was a stage in which I knew that things would never be the same. I had spent a lot of time and energy on our relationship, and it had led to nothing. I wasn't as young as I used to be and it wasn't easy to just date around. I had baggage, a word I used to hate when I was younger, and anyone I met would always be viewed in comparison with Lacey. It wasn't fair, but it was true. And the worst thing was that I was crap at dating and talking to people. Usually I met people by chance, but now that I was trying I must have had an air of desperation about me because nothing seemed to work, and it was easier for Lacey because she found someone else quickly (which was one of the things we argued about I mean...when we were together she barely had time to be in a proper relationship and then after we broke up she found someone so quickly that it made me wonder if she had loved me at all).

Facebook is a killer for that. I did hide her so I didn't have to look at her updates, but we still had a lot of mutual friends so she kept popping up and I had to deal with scrolling down, seeing her having fun when she should have been broken-hearted like me. Why wasn't she drowning in a sea of despair?

But that was all in the past and sure I'm angry but I have better things to do than let her spoil my future. I wanted to get back out there and find someone, even if it was just someone to hang out with. What I really needed was a bit of excitement and romance, I wasn't even looking for love, but I still couldn't find that. I tried nagging my friends to see if they knew anyone suitable but the answer always came back as negative, even though I saw them talk to people on Facebook who were pretty but apparently they were too pretty to me. I tried to hang out at coffee shops and bars but conversation never happened and I felt even lonelier among a crowd of people than I did sitting in my own apartment.

There was one refuge left, one that I didn't want to do, that I swore I would never do, but it seemed to be the only way out for me, the only slash of sunlight in the bleak fog...online dating.

I'd heard so many horror stories that I didn't want to sign up to it but it seemed to be a way of life in the 21
st
century. Everyone seemed to use it, and it was a great way to connect with people that you would otherwise never meet. So after getting over my initial trepidation I found myself creating an account. I spent an inordinate amount of time trying to come up with a username, and then I had to scroll through all the horrible pictures of me to find a few that were suitable and didn't make me seem like a troglodyte. In doing so I had to pass all the photos I had of me and Lacey, and I had to try not to feel nauseous at how happy we looked. The perfect couple, now apart.

After that I did the usual guff about how I loved traveling (even though I hadn't been on vacation in years) and when I read it through I sounded like a total loser, but I figured everyone thought that so I submitted the profile and then went through the website to see who was in my area and who had been selected as my matches. There were rows and rows of pictures, and I was amazed at how many single people there were around me. Where had they all been when I had been out looking for them? Probably sitting inside on their computers by the looks of it.

I started clicking on a few profiles, wondering who to message and what to say. I had intended at first just to find a couple of people to talk to and see what happened, but everyone seemed better than the last and I was left with a feeling that I wasn't in control. All those people were out there, waiting for me, but which ones did I choose? Which ones would like me?

My inbox flashed and my heart fluttered. I'd only just put my profile up and already I had three messages. I licked my lips and swallowed hard as I started to read. The first one was just from the admin welcoming me to the site, and the other two were from men. Both of them saying that they would love to take me to bed, as though I should have been grateful that they deemed me worthy of being fuckable. I scowled and cursed and meandered my way through the site until I found the settings, and changed them so that no men could bother me. After this I felt better, but I felt angry that I had gotten excited for nothing. I set the ice cream dish aside and turned the TV off, instead preferring to listen to music as I trawled the site for potential partners. I went through profile after profile, and I started to become the people I used to hate, those who would dismiss someone for an errant mole or a high forehead or a big nose, a shallow person. But it was easy to be shallow in the anonymous guise of the Internet, and yet I wondered what people were thinking of my profile when they came across it. For some I read, I was inspired, and quickly went back to my own profile to change it and make it more fun.

I sent a few messages, although when it came to sending a message I didn't know what to say and I hoped that it was well-received. I saw the number tick up on the people who had viewed my profile. I clicked on that,  but again it was mostly men, wit only a few women interspersed in between, a couple of whom were people I had just sent messages too. I hoped that they would reply, but none came, and I went back over them, trying to see where I had went wrong. It was an impossible task however, for it was impossible to know what was going through their heads. And I was sad because it seemed like I would only get one shot at talking to them and if the initial message didn't catch their attention then there would be no more chances afterwards.

I tried to keep my messages light and breezy but interesting, although it was hard to keep them unique and they started sounding like I was typing the same thing to everyone. The search pages went on for ages, all filled with possibility as anything could have happened with anyone, although the possibilities were closed when they actually read my message, for then they would either reply or not. But I was idly scrolling through when a picture caught my attention. I went back and stared closely at the screen, trying to make sure that it was who I thought it was, and then I sat back in disbelief for it was a blast from the past. I had just come across another ex, Shannon.