Ozias Van Everly is a Beast, and he knows it.
An attacking midfielder of the United States Men's National Soccer Team, he's a beast on the field. An avid player among the ladies, he's a beast in the bedroom. A jerk who cruelly destroyed his relation...
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It's a Beauty thing to be independent.
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Dark clouds loom over the city today. The grey fluffs of vapour hang low, thundering ever so slightly as the sky cries. The gloomy weather feels different today. A strong breeze rushes past me, taking my hair along with it, making it dance mid-air as I walk home. I look around to the other pedestrians, trying to observe them, see if they're feeling the same uneasiness I'm feeling. I watch as they walk along indifferently. It's a normal Friday evening for them. Yet, for me, something doesn't feel right today.
It feels like the sky is warning me about something.
Quickly brushing away my ridiculous thoughts, I fasten my pace and reach my apartment complex. While fetching my keys from my bag, I look around the street again. That's when I see her. The most beautiful lady I've ever seen, standing at the corner of my footpath, smiling at me. I pause and stare back, not being able to look away from her. Something about her doesn't scare me. Even from the considerable distance between us, I can see the kindness in her eyes. A car going way beyond speed limit manages to catch my attention for a split second and my eyes leave her. When I turn back to look at the spot where she stood not a second ago, I find it empty. My eyes search for her but it felt like she vanished in thin air.
Shaking my head at the uncanny incident and chalking it to tiredness because of my hectic week, I open the door and climb up the stairs to my cosy apartment. Once inside, I drop my keys on the side table and switch on the lights.
And then I let out a scream.
"Relax! It's me!" Jaxson almost shouts out in panic. Placing my hand over my heart, I urge it to relax as I catch my breath.
"Why couldn't you just switch on the damn lights?" I ask exasperatedly.
He shrugs and stretches his legs on my sofa.
"Didn't feel like it."
I drop my bag on the kitchen counter and find some new letters in my pile of unopened letters. My stomach drops as I, yet again, turn a blind eye to them.
"You know, the problem just won't disappear by you not acknowledging it," he remarks, "you have to open them someday, Ira. You know what's in there."
Closing my eyes shut, I count to five as I try to control my irritation. Walking around the kitchen counter, I open the fridge and grab two bottles of beer, walking over to Jaxson and passing one to him.
"Why are you here, Jaxson?"
I watch my ex-husband's nonchalant facade crack, his inner guilt and worry now visible on his face. Bringing the mouth of the bottle to his own mouth, he takes one long gulp of the beer before speaking up.
