A Fated Night

“My boss made me bring it up. I didn’t want to. I… I’m so sorry, Lana.”

She choked on the tears reemerging from her eyes. “You bastard.”

“I deserve that. I shouldn’t have even brought it up. I should’ve been honest about my boss and told you to lie about being asked to cover both of our asses. I broke your trust in me.”

Did he think that was enough to apologize? Because he hadn’t been straightforward with her. He had spent their whole romantic dinner thinking about how he was going to weasel the question in her direction so he could technically tell his boss he had asked her to join Lois & Bachman. That wasn’t honesty. That was the work of a man who only cared about his own image. Lana was all too familiar with those kinds of guys.

“You’ve apologized. I’m not obligated to accept it, though. You can leave now.”

“Lana…”

She sat up, tangled hair a mess all over her shoulders and on her forehead. She was glad the lights were off and he couldn’t see the terrible state she was in. I hate you. We should be in bed together right now, talking about who is going to visit who first. Then I’d fuck you again. It wasn’t fair. The one time she decided to trust a jerk, and it immediately bit her in the ass.

Lana couldn’t believe she was fast-tracking herself to falling in love with this motherfucker.

It was so dark in her room, save for the lights twinkling through the window, that she could barely see him. He didn’t wear a jacket. Just his gray vest and his shirt half untucked from his trousers. While she couldn’t see his face, Lana instinctively knew that there wasn’t a bit of happiness on his countenance. Good. He should feel shitty about what he had done to her. Lana wasn’t in the business of easy forgiveness. She wouldn’t have made it as far as she had otherwise.

Still, what the fuck was that pull to him? Was he really so pathetic that she couldn’t help but stare at his darkened form, waiting for him to leave? Hoping he would do something, anything to make her happy again? Don’t do this. Please. Lana didn’t need to act this way over a man. She would cry for a night, harden her heart again, and then move the fuck on. Maybe she would go straight to the club when she got home and use her Monday night to shack up with some piece of ass she would never know the name of. Man, woman, she didn’t care. As long as they didn’t look or smell like Ken…

Or taste like him..

Or feel like him…

Panic overcame Lana. Not for her safety, but for the unbelievable idea that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t ready to let him go yet.

It’s over. It never really began. Your conference fling, asshole. There he is. Looking smug… maybe not so smug… I don’t know.

Lana hung her head, willing her tangles to obscure the man she couldn’t bear to look at. Why hadn’t he left yet? Why was he torturing her with his presence? All she wanted was to be left alone to stew in her own misery. Misery that he caused!

“You know it’s over, right?” Who invited the frog chorus into her throat? Pathetic.

He shifted between his feet. “Yeah. I know. I didn’t really entertain the idea that you would forgive me. I fucked up.”

Why did he have to say the right thing? Hold to your convictions, girl. Lana placed one hand in front of her, clutching the bedding. “I hate you right now,” she admitted. “I hate what you’ve done to me.”

Ken made a tight fist with his right hand. How similar was it to that fist he grabbed her with at the dinner table? “I’ll say that I’m sorry again, then. It wasn’t right to make you feel led on.”

“I’m not talking about that.” Lana sniffed. “Fuck you. You know what I mean. This whole week… you’ve fucked with me. Not just my cunt. You fucked with my head!” She lifted her eyes, unfurling a flurry of daggers from the depths of her mind. “You fucked with my heart!”

She wished she could see his expression. She was also grateful that she didn’t have to.

“You made all those promises! You said we could try for a relationship no matter what. You made me actually believe something like that was possible! How could you? How could you fuck with me like that? I don’t care how sorry you are. You don’t go back on me like that. All you did was show me that I really don’t know who the fuck you are.” Really, how stupid had she been? Thinking that she could have a relationship with a man she carnally knew more than she knew about his history, his likes and dislikes, what he did when he wasn’t working and bedding women, anything like that… she knew nothing. Lana Losers did not walk into professional or personal relationships without seeing them from all angles first. She didn’t let her heart rule her mind like that. How could she keep her edge, otherwise?