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“Can I pour you one?”
“I’ve had enough wine tonight. Though, I think it’s time we cut you off. Rough day?” I asked. I got a good look at her bloodshot eyes and it told me she probably hadn’t slept in days. I made my way over to the living room couch to find a dozen case files scattered around and it seemed to me like Poppy hit a wall tonight. She only ever finishes a bottle when she can’t close a case. I thought, turning to ask her about it, but she was far more interested in the night I had.
“So, what? It’s been five dates so far. Weren’t you the one that told me to stay away from New York’s finest?”
“I guess I found someone that made me change my mind. Preston Clarke isn’t the man I thought he’d be. He’s better,” I said.
Poppy was practically bouncing off the walls as she listened to all the details of another evening spent with him. I felt my cheeks get hot again wondering when I’d see him next. He made me feel special, showering me with the kind of luxury I was sure I’d never be able to understand. What other tricks do you have up your sleeve, Preston Clarke? Surely you can’t be that perfect.
I crawled into bed that night expecting that I’d wake up to a text like I’d done for weeks before, but once the sun started pouring into my small bedroom and my eyelids fluttered open, there was nothing there. He’s probably just busy. He has a lot on his plate after all. Much like the city, a Clarke never sleeps. I thought, remembering his words as I laid in bed for a few moments, relishing in how incredible I felt. I went about my day as usual, but when I returned home that night there hadn’t been any word from Preston. I texted, called, but there was absolutely nothing.
It took a few days for it to sink in that he wasn’t going to reach out again. It took a few days for me to realize that I was just another one of those girls, taking up room in his calendar until he got bored enough to move onto the next. I thought you were different, Preston. Looks to me like you’re a carbon copy of every New York elite left out there. I should’ve known better. I should’ve listened to my gut. You knew all the right things to say, and now you’re probably saying them to someone else.
“I’ve had enough wine tonight. Though, I think it’s time we cut you off. Rough day?” I asked. I got a good look at her bloodshot eyes and it told me she probably hadn’t slept in days. I made my way over to the living room couch to find a dozen case files scattered around and it seemed to me like Poppy hit a wall tonight. She only ever finishes a bottle when she can’t close a case. I thought, turning to ask her about it, but she was far more interested in the night I had.
“So, what? It’s been five dates so far. Weren’t you the one that told me to stay away from New York’s finest?”
“I guess I found someone that made me change my mind. Preston Clarke isn’t the man I thought he’d be. He’s better,” I said.
Poppy was practically bouncing off the walls as she listened to all the details of another evening spent with him. I felt my cheeks get hot again wondering when I’d see him next. He made me feel special, showering me with the kind of luxury I was sure I’d never be able to understand. What other tricks do you have up your sleeve, Preston Clarke? Surely you can’t be that perfect.
I crawled into bed that night expecting that I’d wake up to a text like I’d done for weeks before, but once the sun started pouring into my small bedroom and my eyelids fluttered open, there was nothing there. He’s probably just busy. He has a lot on his plate after all. Much like the city, a Clarke never sleeps. I thought, remembering his words as I laid in bed for a few moments, relishing in how incredible I felt. I went about my day as usual, but when I returned home that night there hadn’t been any word from Preston. I texted, called, but there was absolutely nothing.
It took a few days for it to sink in that he wasn’t going to reach out again. It took a few days for me to realize that I was just another one of those girls, taking up room in his calendar until he got bored enough to move onto the next. I thought you were different, Preston. Looks to me like you’re a carbon copy of every New York elite left out there. I should’ve known better. I should’ve listened to my gut. You knew all the right things to say, and now you’re probably saying them to someone else.
Table of Contents
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