Oops, I've Fallen

“Hello?”

“Carly, baby.” Josh’s familiar voice fills my ears. It’s raspy and husky and basically all of the sexy things a woman wants a guy’s voice to sound like, a tool he’s crafted by design. “What are you doing?”

“Not too much,” I answer, keeping things vague. Trust me, vague is always best with men like Josh Nash when it comes to my whereabouts.

“I miss you, Carly.”

I roll my eyes. He definitely doesn’t miss me. He’s in between girls and bored and desperate for a warm, dark place to stick his dick.

This is typical Josh. Typical assmunch, dickdong, prickhole Josh Nash.

I take this phone call as a sign from the snow gods that they want me to play with him a little, as a form of weather-directed sacrifice. It’s a hard job, for sure, but goodness knows, he does his fair share of toying with women. I have to bite my lip to contain a burgeoning fit of glee.

“You miss me?” I ask coquettishly.

“I do,” he answers, his excitement dropping his voice to an even sexier, huskier tone. “I’ve been back in Vail for two months now, and I haven’t seen you. Come to my place tonight, baby. We can catch up.”

“How about this?” I respond. “You text me your address.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And then what?” he questions, the tone of his voice bordering on seductive.

“Then, you wait for me to get there. Maybe even get ready, if you know what I’m saying,” I respond and have to lift my hand to my lips to keep the giggles at bay. There is no way in hell I’m going over to his place. No fucking way. But the idea of him just sitting there, waiting for me? And possibly, doing it with his pants off and his dick in his hand? Oh boy. It’s a beautiful visual.

He sighs, obviously hearing a snicker or two I can’t contain. “You’re doing it again, aren’t you?”

“Doing what?”

“Fucking messing with me.”

I sigh, a little sad that he’s caught onto my game this quickly.

“Josh, you only have yourself to blame. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. Stop. Calling. Me.”

“Don’t be like that, baby. I miss you. Really fucking miss you.” He tries to butter my biscuit with his dumb words. “You’re the only one I want, and I’m miserable without you. If you’re not willing to come over and keep me entertained, what am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know. Go buy Monopoly. Download Candy Crush. Get a sock and some lotion, and wank off inside it,” I retort. “It seems to me your options are endless.”

“Sounds like someone’s getting fired up. You miss me, and you don’t want to admit it.”

Good Lord. I shake my head. “You need help, Josh, honestly. I’m starting to think you’re mentally unstable.”

“Hearing you right now, you’d think we were just two strangers who had, like, a one-night-stand or some shit,” he responds, like he actually has a point to prove. “We dated for five years, Carly. Five fucking years. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

We dated on and off for five years, and it was a toxic roller coaster of bullshit.

Josh is all about Josh. A smooth-talking, charming lothario who will purposely say all the right things to pull you into his web. But once you’re ensnared, you realize he’s nothing more than a narcissistic jerk who loves himself more than he could possibly love anyone or anything else. And that’s saying something coming from me.

Being the baby of the family, I can occasionally display a selfish streak that rivals the best of them.

But Josh takes it to another level.

And while it took me about four and a half years too long to realize that fact, I did eventually open my damn eyes and see it.

Hence the reason we’re no longer together.

But see, since I’m the one who called it quits on our relationship over a year ago, Josh Nash’s ego is still having a hard time coming to terms with it.

“Carly? Are you still there?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you don’t have anything to say?”

Don’t have anything to say? Ha. More like, I have no desire to live in the past.

I’ll take the future, thank you very much.

“Josh, I unsubscribed from your newsletter of bullshit over a year ago. I don’t want to communicate with you at all.”

He starts to say more things I couldn’t care less about, but my mind gets distracted when I feel my phone buzz against my ear. I pull it away to see Incoming Call Mom flashing across the screen.

Immediately, I end the call with my idiot ex without a word of goodbye and switch over to someone I don’t mind speaking to.

“Hey, Mom!” I greet. “How’s sunny Florida?”

“Uh…it’s good. Good,” she responds. “I was just wondering if you happened to have a copy of my insurance card with you…”