OBSESSED

52

LEAH

A week had passed since I broke things off with Jarrod. I'd been mildly depressed and moping around, caught in some trance I couldn't quite shake.

I knew I must have looked rough when one of my coworkers asked if I was feeling under the weather. It was becoming clear to me that as much as I didn't trust Jarrod, I was having a hard time letting him go.

Isabelle had been trying to give me solace. I'd gone straight to her house after I left Jarrod's, and she'd fed me yummy comfort food while I tried not to cry.

My behavior was embarrassing considering Jarrod and I hadn't even been officially together. We just had a couple of good romps and he knew a little too much about my bad habits.

I knew it was ridiculous that I could be this hung up on a man after just going through a breakup with someone else. I'd been with Danny for a year, for goodness sake.

This time felt a whole lot worse. Even now, while I was getting ready for our girl's night, I couldn't look in the mirror without feeling guilty.

"He was fucked up," I told myself aloud. "Get your horny ass over him. He's not the only man in the world who can work a dick."

My gaze scoured the reflection in the mirror. I touched my thighs and stomach. They were pudgy and imperfect. I was still amazed that Jarrod even glanced twice my way.

He was outrageously hot and so far out of my league that it was laughable. He could have any woman he wanted.

Yet somehow I was the one who dumped him.

I had to remember that he wasn't perfect—just his body was. What was the point of a pretty face if I couldn't even trust what lay behind it?

The problem was that I wasn't just attracted to him because of his looks. Our connection had run so deeply in such a short period. I felt so familiar and comfortable with Jarrod pretty much instantly.

Jarrod was funny, smart, empathetic, and genuinely enjoyable to spend time with. Whether we did nothing or went out, we had a good time. All of my insecurities shriveled up when he looked at me.

Damn it.

I had to stop this. There was a reason I ended things with Jarrod and I had to remember why. I didn't trust him, and that was the bottom line.

But what if I never found someone who I got along with, was attracted to, and trusted?

If all I could catch were shady men like him and pricks like Danny, I was screwed. I'd be alone forever and probably die an old maid with ten more cats I didn't want.

At noticing my frown in the mirror, I turned away from my reflection and sighed. My mind was stuck in a constant cycle of turmoil. I had no idea how to stop dwelling on Jarrod and it was driving me slowly insane.

A ding from my phone notified me that Isabelle had texted to let me know she was on her way over. I quickly finished touching up my makeup before strapping on my favorite pair of black heels. I dared to face the mirror again to check over my outfit.

For a moment, I considered changing completely. The off-shoulder, glittery black dress clung to my thighs, was a bit short around the ass, and exposed my arms almost entirely. But the fabric did cross over my stomach in a flattering ruched pattern.

I looked damn gorgeous. I just needed to get it through my thick skull and believe it.

Then I heard the familiar honk of Isabelle's old beater and I snapped out of my thoughts. I grabbed my black leather clutch and phone, patted Foxy, and then locked up on my way out.