Break Up with Him, for Me (You Belong With Me 1)

“Blueberry, please!”

I opened my front door and found myself face to face with Simon and a beautiful vase filled with red roses.

“Um, hey, Simon.” I blushed.

“Hey, Penelope.” He smiled. “I uh, I hope this doesn’t come off like I’m stalking you or anything, but I was wondering if I could take you out for some coffee? I feel like I spent more time talking about you to my team, than actually talking to you yesterday.”

I was utterly speechless.

“I mean, if you can’t join me, I totally understand. I can ask you out another day.”

“No, I can totally come with you.” I reached for the flowers. “Let me put these in the kitchen, and I’ll be right out.”

“Okay, great.”

I rushed inside and snapped a picture of the flowers. Then I called Hayden.

“Yes, Penelope?” he answered on the first ring.

“Guess who got me flowers?”

“Guess who owes me some apology letters?”

“Prince Charming.” I avoided his sarcasm. “I sent you a picture. What do you think?”

“I think he spent over a hundred dollars on these, so he’s not cheap like The One Who Thought Ramen Noodles Were Italian.”

“I think The One Who Stole Starbucks might have him beat.”

We both laughed.

“He just showed up to my place and asked me out for coffee,” I said. “I agreed before realizing that I didn’t ask you if that was a good idea.”

“It’s a great idea,” he said. “It’s just coffee. You do have a client in a few hours, so you can’t stay that long anyway.”

“Good point. What are you doing?”

“Watching Lawrence glare at me for answering your call in the middle of an important meeting.”

“How hard is it for you to call Hayden after five in the afternoon, Penelope?” Lawrence called out. “Do I need to buy you a watch? Doesn’t your phone tell time?”

I snorted. “Sorry. I’ll let you get back to it.”

“Wait,” he said. “One quick thing. Since he’s a hedge fund guy, he may be the type that likes emailing and texting all day, so don’t do that with him. At least, not too much.”

“Why not?”

“You need to make him work for you,” he said. “He needs to call and show up in person. Plus, for whatever reason, you and emails don’t tend to do well when it comes to relationships.”

“They work with you.”

“I’m an exception.” He laughed. “Don’t send him an email or get involved in too much texting until you’ve been dating him for a few weeks, okay? Trust me.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you later.” I ended the call and returned outside to Simon.

“Ready for coffee?” He asked.

“Yep.”

“You know,” he said as we stepped onto the sidewalk, “I wanted to text you before coming over here, but I’m an old school guy at heart, and I don’t like too many digital things in a real relationship. I hope you’re okay with that.”

I smiled. I couldn’t wait to tell Hayden.

“I’m more than okay with that.”

Break Up #9

The One That Sent An Email/The One That Almost Got Italian DInner

Penelope

Back Then

Subject: Us

Dear Penelope,

I’ve been thinking A LOT lately, and these past few months with you have been pretty fucking awesome.

I really like your vibe and all, but I don’t think that this long-distance thing will work for me.

You spend more time at practice/on the ice than you do with me, and I don’t think I’m built for all the traveling you do, so yeah …

I don’t want us to be over AT ALL, I’m just asking for some space until you have more time for me.

Good luck at Skate Canada next month.

Ryan

* * *

Subject: Fwd: Us

Yo.

You think this was a good enough message to end things with Miss ‘Too Good to Fuck’?

Kind of feel bad since she’s a nice girl, but she was on some bullshit “7 date rule” and didn’t even offer to suck my dick while I waited on her to give me the pussy. (Took her out to eat five times and she didn’t even think about giving me her mouth once.)

If she’d done that, maybe I’d have more of an incentive to stop messing around with Maya.

Let me know if you’re still planning to head to the Alpha Party tonight.

I’m going to Maya’s first.

Ryan

* * *

Hayden’s lips turn up into a smirk as he reads over my ex’s accidental email for the third time in a row. He’s read it in a different accent each time—Russian, British, Italian, as if that somehow softens the impact of the words.

“Okay,” he says, returning my phone. “I think that’s enough. There’s only thing left for me to say about this breakup.”

“Don’t you dare say it, Hayden.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Keep that shitty-ass line of commentary to yourself.”

“Why?” He smiles. “He’s been calling your relationship ‘long-distance’ when you live thirty minutes away from each other. That was a red-flag from day one.”