I might be hiding right now but, sooner or later, I’ll have to talk to him.
God, this isn’t like me at all. Where’s the old Cara? The one that shoots first and asks questions later? The one that always knows what to do, even when the going gets tough? Right now, I look like the sappy female lead in a romantic comedy - except, of course, there’s nothing comic about this whole thing.
Okay, okay… I know, I need to get my shit together, and I need to do it fast. Allowing this situation to drag endlessly won’t do me no good. In the end, depressed Cara won’t solve anything - what I need is to bring the old Cara back. Or, at least, try to.
Alright, screw it, it’s time for me to face the music.
Grabbing my phone, I unlock the screen and write Liam a text. I need to see you. Can you come over? I write, and then grit my teeth and force myself to press Send. A minute later, and his reply comes in: sure, will be there soon.
Kicking the blanket off me, I jump up to my feet and march straight into my bedroom. I take my pajamas off, take a long warm shower, and then squeeze myself inside a pretty decent red dress - I don’t want to look too sexy for when Liam arrives.
Yup, that’s right… I’m going to break up with him, and I’ll do it because it’s what I must do to protect my company... and because it’s also the right thing to do. As hard as it might be, in the end, it’ll be for the best. After all, I started this whole relationship under false pretenses, and Liam deserves better than that.
And so, in the end, Misty will get what she wants. But, even though I’m going to break up with him, I sure as hell won’t do it in a humiliating way. Let Misty think whatever she wants, but I’m not going to attack Liam viciously. No, I’ll just cut things off swift and painlessly - or so I hope.
“Liam, I think it’s better we go our separate ways,” I start, running the tip of my tongue over my lips as I stare into the full body mirror in my bedroom, trying to keep a straight face. “We’re not right for each other and, as fun as this was, it’s time we end this. I’m sorry, I really am,” I continue, rehearsing my breakup speech and failing miserably. Why do the words coming out of my mouth sound like the most obvious lie ever told?
“This was just fun, Liam. Harmless good fun, sure, but I don’t want anything serious. Right now I want to focus on work,” I say now, trying a new approach. Jesus, this sounds even worse.
“We’re done, Liam. You can’t be with me, and I can’t be with you. This wasn’t meant to be,” I whisper, lowering my voice as my reflection in the mirror seems to grow cold and soulless. Oh, God, am
I really going to do this? The words don’t even sound right on my mouth.
Maybe… Maybe I’m afraid of telling him the truth. But how could I do that? That’d be the one thing that would break his heart for good - and, more than that, it’d make him hate me. And that’s the last thing I want, Liam’s hate. I can survive and endure his absence in my life, but I don’t think I can keep going if I know that he hates me. That’d be too much for me.
“It’s over, Liam,” I repeat once more, trying to push all that fear to the back of my mind, and that’s when I hear someone knocking at my door. “Alright, it’s showtime,” I whisper, feeling a knot in my throat, my heart hammering hard against my chest.
This is it.
Steeling my face, I pat down the front of my dress, straightening it, and then walk toward the door. I take deep breaths as I go, and then I stop right in front of the door, my hand hovering over the handle.
For a moment, I feel tempted to pretend that I’m not home, to simply ignore him until he goes away. But no, I can’t (I won’t) do that. And so, I curl my fingers around the metallic handle and push it down, the sound of the lock turning making my heart speed up even more.
This is it - and no matter how hard it is, it must be done.
Liam
When Cara’s door swings open, I’m hit all over again with straight up happiness just seeing her standing there.
Fuck, the last couple days have been hell with her not returning my calls, ghosting on me like she did. I missed her so much. And not just like those first couple days when I couldn’t get her out of my head. No, it was like totally consuming.
It doesn’t even make sense. I mean, it’s not like we’ve been dating long or anything. But it doesn’t matter. I missed her all the same. Just that little bit of time away from her was torture, especially after the intimate moments we shared in my apartment.
It killed me that I couldn’t reach her. When she called me today and invited me over all I felt was straight up relief.
And right now all I can think about is getting close to her again.
I step inside and kick the door shut, then sweep her into my arms, crushing her body against mine and lowering my mouth to hers before she can even say anything.
Our hands are everywhere, groping and clutching and exploring as we fight to get closer and closer. It’s like we can’t get close enough. As if every millimeter of space between us is too much. I want to sink into her, not knowing where I end and she begins.
Fuck, I want her. Not just that. I need her. I fucking crave her like she’s air, like I can’t breathe without her. Like she’s what keeps me alive.
And my body comes alive under her touch, her hands tangled in my hair as she kisses me back just as passionately as I kiss her. Hungry. Needy. Desperate.
I fucking love that she craves me the very same way I crave her. She needs me just as much. It’s obvious by the way she strains against me, fighting to get even closer.
I devour her mouth as my hands consume her body, staking their claim. She’s mine.