Kicking Reality

“How sad, your fiancé left you alone.”

She smiles, but not a smile that is sweet and endearing.

“Don’t you have some nurse to fuck?” she bites back with wild eyes.

Bitch. Why the fuck would she be angry about that? I can’t understand women and the way they think. Their minds were like puzzles that were impossible to figure out.

“Maybe. She was boring the first time so not sure why I’d go back for seconds.”

She’s unable to look at me, shaking her head and staring at the table with her glass in front. Ash talks over us yet I don’t pay attention as I watch her type on her cell. Within seconds, my pocket vibrates.

You’re a fucking asshole. Go ahead, fuck nurses and see if I care. I shouldn’t, right? Since I fuck my fiancé every night.

I can’t even look at her. The heat is rising underneath my jacket as the anger and hurt consume me. Is she for fucking real?! I can’t even deal with what she’s admitting if it’s true. Again, what fucking moron comes up with the brilliant idea to sleep with other people?!

You’re a fucking bitch. The nurse gave good head. I think I will go back for seconds.

I watch her mouth open in shock. She’s distracted for a moment as a bartender serves her a wine which she proceeds to down in one go, demanding another almost immediately. He lingers to talk to her, flirting with his young smile. I quickly type away and hit send, catching her eye and she half looks down at the screen.

Why don’t you go fuck the bartender too.

“Bro, we need to head back. We seriously need rest,” Ash yells over the noise.

As much as I wanted to stay and argue with Emerson, it was an hour drive home and close to nine. We always went to bed well before midnight for a training session that started at four am. If our A game isn’t on—we could potentially lose a very important game.

“You gonna be okay Em?” Ash asks, throwing some bills on the table.

She slides them back to him, ignoring me while slipping her cell into her purse.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. And take your money . . . let the producers pick up this tab. Or I can continue flirting with the bartender. Maybe even take him home.”

What a fucking low blow.

We both stand up when a man, short, maybe five-foot-six, blocks our way. He would have been easily in his late forties, balding and wearing a brown jacket with some weird logo on it.

“Emerson

Chase,” he beams, but something is not right. His forehead is dripping in sweat and I don’t like the way he licked his lips when he called her name.

She smiles politely, saying hello.

“I love you. I mean, I honestly love you,” he pants.

I look over at Ash, wondering if this guy was for real.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Again, her smile is fixed as she doesn’t indulge his behavior.

“I have you on my wallpaper.” He extends his hand, the wallpaper on his phone an image of her in a bikini drenched in water. Then, he continues to flick through his photos and every single one was of her. What a fucking nutcase!

“I’m in love with you. I’ve been waiting for so long. Will you come back to my apartment for dinner?” He steps forward, and without even thinking, I place my hand on his chest restraining him from going any farther.

“I don’t think so. Leave her alone,” I grit.

The man seems shocked that Emerson is not stopping me. Ash quickly interjects. “You need to go now. And I don’t want you near my sister ever again.”

“But you don’t understand.” He laughs nervously, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. “I’m in love with her. I’ve been following her since she landed. I even followed her to your apartment. We’re soulmates. We’re meant to be together.”

Emerson begins to look panicked, distancing herself from where she stood. I grab her hand, pulling her towards me. My grip is tight, but I refuse to let her go and be with some maniac.