Page 9
Story: Sky High Obsession
Cute guy veered back to wary guy.The waitress walking past barely glanced her way.She was probably used to nut jobs stopping by to reminisce about their axe murderer ex-lovers just before the lunch crowd descended.Another laugh threatened to burst out, but she swallowed it down.
You’ve finally fucking lost it, Bethany.
Standing, she picked up her bag and sucked in another breath.She was walking out of the shop when her phone vibrated.
Heart jumping into her throat, she read the message.
There’s a time limit on how long I’m prepared to live without you.The clock’s counting down fast, and I’m slowly losing my mind.One way or the other, this will have to end soon.Z.
4
The flower arrived the next morning.A single vintage-yellow rose with a note:
Thinking of you.Z
Bleary eyed from another sleepless night, Bethany stood on her doorstep for several seconds, clutching the flower and note and blinking to stop the tears from forming.
She’d dreamt of him.Of Marrakech.Of dancing in his huge, magical ballroom.Of hot hands, hotter lips, his wicked tongue and his thick, delicious cock.
In the dark of night, her body had screamed for him.She’d been so turned on, so needy and horny, she’d come in her sleep.
It had been beyond rough to open her eyes and find herself back in her dark New York apartment and cold, empty bed.She wanted to hate Zach Savage.But right now, she wanted to see his face so badly, she could barely breathe.
Yesterday, the silence between his texts had grown progressively longer as the day had waned.The last one had been at midnight.She’d snort-laughed at his imploration to “sleep well, baby.”
She’d texted back with a “fuck off.”Then she’d lain awake for hours expecting a response, hating herself for clutching her phone to her chest and jumping at each imaginary beep.
Now, she slowly closed her door and stared at the flower.It wasn’t a replica of the one he’d given to her in Marrakech, thank God.She was barely holding it together as it was.She didn’t need another reminder of that haunted paradise.When she found herself trailing a finger over the sprawling Z, she shook her head and dropped the note on her coffee table.
Life.She needed to get one.
She changed into her jogging pants and tank top and pulled on her trainers.Tying her hair into a ponytail, she plugged in her AirPods and tucked her keys into her hip pouch.
Vladimir, the Ukrainian daytime doorman, smiled at her as she stretched in the foyer.“You have a good run, Miss Green.”
“Thanks, Vlad.It’s been a while.Hope I haven’t forgotten how.”
Two weeks ago, she’d been engaged in another, more mind-blowing form of exercise.Her face flamed, and she walked quickly to the swinging doors.
“You never forget how.Not that easily,” Vlad said.
She waved her thanks as he held the door open for her.As she walked out into the dappling sunlight, she blinked.
The stretch town car wasn’t out of place in her relatively affluent East Village neighborhood.All the same, as she walked past she found her footsteps slowing.The car was driverless, with black-tinted windows, which made it impossible to see inside.Aside from the high polish and silently opulent model, there was nothing distinctive about the car.
And yet…
She caught her reflection in the glass and realized she’d walked so close she was in danger of looking like a total creep.
Turning, she hurried away and broke into a jog.After several minutes, the rhythm of her feet pounding the sidewalk slowly soothed her.
By the time she’d run a mile, Bethany was daring to believe she could rescue a few worthy crumbs from the pile of ashes her life had become.By the time she’d run two miles, she was daring to believe she could put Paris and Marrakech out of her mind sometime before winter arrived in New York.
When she turned around and started back, her pounding heart was making the argument with her brain that one day she would forget that Zach Savage existed.
Bethany never found out which organ won the argument.She rounded the corner of her apartment block and jogged the last few meters, grateful that her body hadn’t let her down.And stumbled to a halt.
The town car was parked in the same place, but this time its occupant was very visible.
You’ve finally fucking lost it, Bethany.
Standing, she picked up her bag and sucked in another breath.She was walking out of the shop when her phone vibrated.
Heart jumping into her throat, she read the message.
There’s a time limit on how long I’m prepared to live without you.The clock’s counting down fast, and I’m slowly losing my mind.One way or the other, this will have to end soon.Z.
4
The flower arrived the next morning.A single vintage-yellow rose with a note:
Thinking of you.Z
Bleary eyed from another sleepless night, Bethany stood on her doorstep for several seconds, clutching the flower and note and blinking to stop the tears from forming.
She’d dreamt of him.Of Marrakech.Of dancing in his huge, magical ballroom.Of hot hands, hotter lips, his wicked tongue and his thick, delicious cock.
In the dark of night, her body had screamed for him.She’d been so turned on, so needy and horny, she’d come in her sleep.
It had been beyond rough to open her eyes and find herself back in her dark New York apartment and cold, empty bed.She wanted to hate Zach Savage.But right now, she wanted to see his face so badly, she could barely breathe.
Yesterday, the silence between his texts had grown progressively longer as the day had waned.The last one had been at midnight.She’d snort-laughed at his imploration to “sleep well, baby.”
She’d texted back with a “fuck off.”Then she’d lain awake for hours expecting a response, hating herself for clutching her phone to her chest and jumping at each imaginary beep.
Now, she slowly closed her door and stared at the flower.It wasn’t a replica of the one he’d given to her in Marrakech, thank God.She was barely holding it together as it was.She didn’t need another reminder of that haunted paradise.When she found herself trailing a finger over the sprawling Z, she shook her head and dropped the note on her coffee table.
Life.She needed to get one.
She changed into her jogging pants and tank top and pulled on her trainers.Tying her hair into a ponytail, she plugged in her AirPods and tucked her keys into her hip pouch.
Vladimir, the Ukrainian daytime doorman, smiled at her as she stretched in the foyer.“You have a good run, Miss Green.”
“Thanks, Vlad.It’s been a while.Hope I haven’t forgotten how.”
Two weeks ago, she’d been engaged in another, more mind-blowing form of exercise.Her face flamed, and she walked quickly to the swinging doors.
“You never forget how.Not that easily,” Vlad said.
She waved her thanks as he held the door open for her.As she walked out into the dappling sunlight, she blinked.
The stretch town car wasn’t out of place in her relatively affluent East Village neighborhood.All the same, as she walked past she found her footsteps slowing.The car was driverless, with black-tinted windows, which made it impossible to see inside.Aside from the high polish and silently opulent model, there was nothing distinctive about the car.
And yet…
She caught her reflection in the glass and realized she’d walked so close she was in danger of looking like a total creep.
Turning, she hurried away and broke into a jog.After several minutes, the rhythm of her feet pounding the sidewalk slowly soothed her.
By the time she’d run a mile, Bethany was daring to believe she could rescue a few worthy crumbs from the pile of ashes her life had become.By the time she’d run two miles, she was daring to believe she could put Paris and Marrakech out of her mind sometime before winter arrived in New York.
When she turned around and started back, her pounding heart was making the argument with her brain that one day she would forget that Zach Savage existed.
Bethany never found out which organ won the argument.She rounded the corner of her apartment block and jogged the last few meters, grateful that her body hadn’t let her down.And stumbled to a halt.
The town car was parked in the same place, but this time its occupant was very visible.
Table of Contents
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