Banging Reaper (Pounding Hearts 1)

I missed AJ’s first private message by two weeks. In fact, I remember quite vividly that I was afraid to open his message. It was like: Please don’t be a dick pic, please. Please, oh, please I don’t want to see your two inches of dangling fury!

I also remember quite vividly what his message said.

AJ: Hey beautiful. Are you interested in a serious relationship yet?

At first I thought perhaps he had accidently sent me that message. It must have been for someone else. I’d never been called beautiful before. He couldn’t be referring to me. Yet…

I checked out his profile. He was very good looking. I mean like heart-stopping, mouthwatering, how you doin’ baby? Bright white smile. Darling dimples. Warm chocolate eyes that smoldered me even through the glare of my phone screen.

There was picture after picture of him doing fun things. Hanging out with friends. Traveling and enjoying life. He was definitely one of the popular guys in high school who grew into a handsome man with the world at his feet.

The more I checked out his profile, the more confused I became. What was a guy like him doing on a free dating website? Why was he reaching out to me? I’m not ugly by any means, but I’m not the hottest gal around either. He was way out of my league. I always believed that that kind of guy only dated supermodels or cheerleaders, not average girl next door types like me.

I nearly chewed through my lip while I mulled over responding to him. All the signs pointed to it being a mistake. My gut told me it was a mistake. But there was a slim, irrational chance he was interested in little ol’ me.

What did I have to lose? With the computer between us, I could protect my dignity. What was the worst that could happen? I talked myself into it.

Me: Not yet. Check back in a week.

I checked my messages every five minutes that night. He didn’t answer back.

The next day, I checked every hour. Then, it became whenever I was bored the rest of the week.

I was almost convinced he was never going to respond. One exact week passed. It must be as I originally expected, a mistake. Still, I kept checking every day.

Two days later he finally sent me another private message.

AJ: How about now? It’s been a week.

The coffee is ready for me. I program the maker to brew a fresh pot every morning. I dump in a few teaspoons of sugar for an extra boost. My blood sugar needs it. No breakfast for me this morning, I’m too depressed to eat.

AJ and I hit it off right away. It was too weird how much he had in common. It was too perfect. We shared the same favorite band, the same favorite TV shows, books, and movies. We both love cats and only tolerate dogs. One day we both want to have big families, with lots of love and lots of kids.

It was surreal how alike we were, how much he had in common. We both had parents who divorced and remarried. Our stepparents are total jerks. Rich jerks used to bossing people around and getting their way. He doesn’t get along with his stepbrother, I don’t get along with mine. It was so impossible how much we had in common, so unbelievable that it became believable.

There was no way he could have guessed all that stuff about me. I don’t keep a diary or journal. My social media posts are mostly pictures of cute cats doing silly things. I once knew a girl in high school who had some very intimate pictures leaked all over the web. She became a social pariah, a cautionary tale to the rest of us. The internet is not safe and there are millions of strangers who want to see our boobies.

I guard my privacy. If you want to get to know me, you have to actually get to know me. Unless he was a CSA spy or a psychic, there was no way he could know or just guess all those things we shared together.

Up until yesterday, I believed there was only one explanation for it. We were meant to be.

It’s funny how being told how beautiful you are every day can affect your mood and personality.

I drain my cup of coffee, the last sip is too sweet. Then I shuffle to my bathroom to put some makeup on.

Looking in the mirror, I brush my hair out of me face. Am I still beautiful? Even without AJ telling me? Was it all a lie?

I look tired, but I don’t have enough energy to put on a full face. I rub some foundation over my face and brush on some mascara. My goal is simply not to scare the innocent people that have to ride the bus with me. It takes more effort than it should to do even this.

I should have known. All the signs were there. I feel so stupid.

AJ reached out to me, he showed interest in me. He got me to like him, but he never wanted to meet in person. He was always too busy, and from his pictures I understood. Yet why give me the impression he wanted a relationship if he could never find the time for a day?

After the first couple of tries of attempting to meet up with him I gave up. I figured he’d ask me out when he found the time. He eventually found it.

I almost break down on the bus. I have to close my eyes and breathe in deeply. I will not cry in public, dammit. I will not cry.

I have to stop thinking about it because the more I think about it, the more I analyze it. The more I analyze it, the more I pick it apart, and the more and more I feel really stupid.