~~~This is a prequel, spin-off from Ties~~~
Briar Hayes has lived her entire life being polite, never daring to express the crazy and wild thoughts running laps in her head. At almost twenty-five, stuck in the throes of monotony, she finally snaps...
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The following days—the sans Trey days—flash by in the blink of an eye.
I wish. They drag, ridonculously slow. The minutes like months, the months like years, the years like centuries. Twelve days. Two hundred and eighty-eight hours. Fuck me. Literally. I miss it when it's gone. Okay, not just it. Him! I miss Trey an exorbitant amount. It seems as if the sun hasn't shone this entire work week. It hasn't, gray as all hell, with clouds galore, but I made it. Well, halfway—almost. One hundred and twenty hours down, one hundred and sixty-eight to go.
Who's even counting?
The baffling part, the part I hate, is when we're together the time flies by so fast. But apart? Nope. I've got my sights so honed in on next Friday, which is approaching at a grueling pace. My flight, at three p.m., can't get here soon enough.
Also, they haven't been completely sans Trey. We're on the phone so much it's insanity. I'm a simple text or email type of gal, but we are racking up those minutes.We don't run out of stuff to talk about.
But I miss being with him. Touching him. Running my hands through his hair. Those eyes, and that calm smile that makes me melt. I miss his lips and the well-groomed ten o'clock shadow that tickles when he kisses me—and kisses something else.
Ugh!
I miss his tongue. His mouth. His fingers. His dick.
I've never missed a dick before him.
But I do not miss the opportunity to whip out my phone and text him just that.
I made the mistake yesterday of video calling him, immediately blurting out that I was crass, sass, and ready to smash. What can I say? Before he could fire a word back, I declared I was about to throw myself against the wall and do the two-finger tango.
Desperate times.
He turned that pleasant shade of pink, shaking his head no. Luckily, it was his friend Mike who overheard my nonsense. Trey laughed it off but reminded me to give him a heads up when I was gonna blast off... about blasting off. I told him he should know, by this point, not to be surprised.
Poor guy's been working his ass into the ground, wanting to get the flooring in and the walls painted at the club before I come next week.
I've been puttering through the day to day. Boujee coffee orders, a compilation of new properties for the piranhas, blah, blah. But I've stayed busy, going to several listings, struggling to commit property laws and sales tactics to memory. So. Fucking. Boring. Regardless, I'm ready-ish. Completed the required coursework.
"Am I interrupting?" My mother, Cecilia, Mom, what, sticks her head in the doorway. I lower my uncovered feet from the tabletop in a hurry. The same one they all sit at, sipping their Monday caffeine, and shoveling in their protein bars.
