Long Lost Lover

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I sat at the bar watching my three best friends destroying the dance floor. I had a glass of jack around my fingertips as I watched, sipping here and there. "Nova come on" Alicia waved at me. I held up my drink yelling over the thumping music, "after my drink". She rolled her eyes at me stomping over with her hand stretched out. "What are you doing?" "I'm helping you enjoy your night" she said pulling my arm. "Ok wait" I stopped her as I stepped down from the stool I sat on gulping the strong liquor. She waved for me to come on as she walked back into the crowd. I followed her close behind, that was until someone bumped into me. I buckled almost falling, but hands quickly grabbed hold of my arms lifting me back up before I even touched the floor. "You're such a cluts" I heard a voice yell. "Thanks for catching me I-" I stopped as soon as I saw who had spoken. "Well at least this time you didn't have a drink to spill over me" I said I'm sure with a smart attitude while still managing to yell over the music. He smiled leaning down in my ear, "You're lucky I said sorry.". "Asshole" I uttered walking away.

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"that's right Nova, an asshole I am".
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I danced for a little while longer before I called it a night. Skylar and Alicia were still partying while Jasmine decided to get a drink. Knowing they wouldn't be ready to leave, I called for an Uber standing next to the long line of club goers. Minutes later my Uber was here and I was on my way home. Once arrived I removed my makeup then taking a shower. I decided to get some work done while awake, so I pulled out my laptop logging on to one of my clients works. Excitement surged through me as I read her story, with the few tips I've given her, her book is really going to thrive once it's published. I left a few minor notes for her to correct before closing my laptop.

30 years today, I honestly can't believe it. I've accomplished everything I wanted. Becoming an Editor and an author all at the same time has been an complete struggle I will not lie, but to be able to sit here today makes me want to scream. And scream I did, what more could a 30 year old successful journalist and author honestly ask for?
Love?
I have such a complicated relationship with that word. I don't really need that word, I have my job. It's all the fulfillment I need, honest. The word seems pointless, useless, unnecessary if you will. However, there is a part of me that yearns for the company of another. To share my success and happiness with, to vent to when my friends aren't around, to be made love to when my body is in need of pleasure. Yes, I know, I very indecisive, but I can't help it.

Maybe it's the fantasy I want. The "always lovey dovey, never arguing" relationship that I day dream about. I read so many romance stories from my clients that I catch myself dreaming of the perfect relationship, and I know. I know there is no such thing as perfect, but does it hurt to dream? Maybe that's why I don't want a relationship. The knowing that it won't be perfect. The knowing that I won't always like the person I'm with. The knowing that there is a possibility for lies to creep into our bed. Call me paranoid if you'd like, but don't you think about it? Not even a bit? the possibility that your man could be making love to another woman while your at the grocery store trying to figure out if he'd like chicken or beef tonight? Maybe I'm over thinking, maybe, maybe, maybe. But maybe not, maybe I'm right. Maybe, maybe, maybe. I'm unsure, very unsure, so I present my question: Why dive head first into something I'm unsure of? It's almost as if you're asking me to blindfold myself and run into traffic.  "Love is blind" they say, so why would I want such a disability?

Wrapped in my thoughts, I continued to read through my client's work until I finished. Finish I did, and tired I was. Looking at the time I blew a tired breath standing from my comfortable chair and stepping over to my bed. I have a meeting first thing tomorrow and I don't want to be late or tired, so I slipped into bed.

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A blood tear had slipped from my right eyes as the young girl laid lifeless on my couch. I had been staring at her dead body for sometime now and every agonizing moment I did was torture. That's what I wanted. I deserve it, I killed her. She had at least fifty years to look forward to, and I, being the lion that I am took away the precious life of a fawn. I let my hunger get the best of me. Wait, best? There isn't a best side of me. I am a undead human with a diet that consists of blood.