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After a traumatic breakup with her college sweetheart, Aria Davenport meets an older, more sexually experienced businessman who promises to change her life forever.
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"This is about last night? Sorry! I couldn't make it. Work got super busy but that's no reason for all this." My cheeks are on fire.
"You waltz in here like everything is fine, sneaking up behind me like I'm expecting you... who the fuck do you think you are?" He looks over my head to see if anyone has heard him.
"Like you're expecting me? You are expecting me! You told me to come here! Now you want to act like this?" The words come out much louder than I intend. The people in our vicinity stop socializing and turn to watch us. I'm mortified. I could die right here, right now.
"I stood there and watched you for like twenty minutes. You didn't even know I was there," he snarls as veins pop up around his temple. He seems emboldened by people taking notice.
He's scaring the shit out of me and nothing I say seems to get through to him. He's only listening to himself.
"Are you talking about that customer? In VIP?"
"...you think I'm stupid! Guess again."
Ironically in the background, "Stand By Me" is playing. I know the song well from the hot summer nights of my younger days, outside with Mama and her friends. I miss those times, the bonfires, fireflies, and lemonade. The lyrics waft softly in the air. If only this conversation was as sweet as that melody.
His mouth is moving, but I can't hear the words. There's too much going on. What is he talking about? His hands are free now. He's pointing his finger in my face. Now his hands are flailing wildly in the air but I'm not computing anymore. This hurts. It really, really hurts. All these people staring. This isn't part of the plan. It's wasn't supposed to go like this.
"...didn't think I'd find out, did you..."
"Find out what?" I ask, paralyzed, still trying to understand. His beautiful brown eyes. They're narrow and angry, but yes, still beautiful. His mouth and those lips. Those lips are speaking unspeakable words, but what I wouldn't give for the days he spoke sweet nothings. His tall, slender frame. I always loved how protected I felt in his arms. I felt like he had my back, like he always would. But this? How can he treat me like this?
"...well I got something for you..." he rages on. "Did you hear what the fuck I just said, bitch?"
Everyone in the room, including myself, collectively gasps. I'm abruptly thrown back into this bone-crushing reality. Did he just call me a bitch? Did he just call me a bitch? He seems invigorated by this like it's been sitting on his chest and he's just released a huge weight.
"Bitch? Really? That's how we talk to each other now?"
He's gunning for me. Like a runaway 18-wheeler that's lost its brakes on a steep, winding, mountainous road. His rage is steadily intensifying.
"That's what I said. It's over! I'm with Trina, now." He grabs the waist of a girl next to him and pulls her close.
The wind is knocked out of me. "Trina? Your so-called best friend?" My heart nearly beats out of my chest as I realize she's been digging her claws into him all along. Was he ever faithful? The only way his friendship with Trina could grow that fast into a relationship is if that "friendship" was so much more.
