Crash (Billionaire New Adult Romance)(2)

Jessica dragged me out to the mall to go shopping with her, because  apparently there was this party at her boyfriend's house that I had to  go to. They made up months ago. Ben and I were still over.         

     



 

You've seen the Facebook photos. He's moving on.

Less than a month after we broke up, I woke up to a splash of photos of  my ex with another woman on Facebook: Ben sipping drinks with his  coworkers in a flashy lounge, with his arm wrapped around a leggy  brunette, her cleavage almost spilling from her dress. Seeing those  hands that I knew so well wrapped around another woman made me feel  gutted. It was like he deliberately reached in and grabbed a fistful of  my innards-and yanked. He made me feel worthless, and that was probably  his intention.

It was eight months since Ben and I broke up.

Eight months of Facebook stalking and crying into tissues and my whole  body shaking with sobs that absolutely exhausted me and left me so tired  in the morning that I could barely function. Eight months of that  horrible, empty feeling in my chest. Jealousy when I glanced at my  roommate's gorgeous boyfriend. Anger at the ruin they left me in. I  missed him. I loved him. I hated him. Rinse and repeat.

You broke up with him. I reminded myself of that ten times a day, at least.

I ripped aside another dress with a little more force than I needed, and Jessica raised an eyebrow at me.

"What do you think about this?"

She showed me a bright-red knit dress and draped it over her body.

"It's a cute summer dress, but I'm not sure it's appropriate for a cocktail party."

She bit her lip and nodded in agreement. "Maybe I'll buy it anyways."

"Who's going to be at this party?"

"Oh, it'll be mostly Luke's coworkers. It's a launch party for his campaign so maybe a couple departments."

I frowned. "And he's having it at his house?" I couldn't imagine all those people fitting into a home in the city.

"Just wait till you see it. It's huge." She took my hand excitedly. "I  can't wait. It'll be so much fun. There's going to be a band and he's  hiring caterers with the most amazing food."

"Can't wait," I said in a voice that was too flat.

She gave me a sharp look. Jessica knew that I had no desire to socialize  with a bunch of strangers. Nothing really mattered anymore.

Jessica's eyes were knitted together. "Listen, I know you don't feel  like going, but you haven't been out in ages. We used to do a lot of  stuff together and now we barely hang out."

I tried to hide my burning face, ripping dresses across too quickly. Her  saddened voice made my emotions, which were running high these days,  rise into my throat, constricting it.

"I know. I just don't feel like it anymore."

I walked to another clothes rack where I wouldn't have to look at  Jessica's anguished face. The divide between us cut deeper every day.  More than anything, I wanted to go home and retreat into my room to  watch reruns on Netflix. There was a constant push and pull between  loneliness and solitude. Whenever I was alone, I craved company. When I  wasn't, I couldn't wait until I was alone again.

A slim black dress caught my eye and I pulled it out. It had a lace back and shoulders.

"That's cute!"

Relief washed over me when I finally bought the dress and walked outside into the blinding sunshine with Jessica.

"Hold on a sec." I took the dress out of the bag just to look at it one last time.

Jessica made a small gasp. "Oh, look! There's a hole in the lace."

"Where?"

She pointed to a tiny hole in the fabric and I sighed in disappointment.

"Return it. You'll find something else."

I moaned as I stuffed the dress back into the bag. "Go on home, Jessica. It'll probably take a while."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

Her thin arm waved me goodbye as I turned back into the mall with a  sinking feeling in my stomach. I hated returning clothes. Any kind of  confrontation made me feel physically ill.

The queasy feeling in my stomach doubled as I approached the sales  counter where a tall woman stood, her face heavily made up with dramatic  makeup, but still beautiful. She was the sort of girl I always admired  because of her ruthless style. I never felt secure enough in myself to  wear that much makeup or sport plunging necklines.

"What do you need?"

I blushed under her intense stare, which was even more intimidating with  the eyeliner. I placed the bag on the table. "Um-I just bought a dress  and it has a hole in it. I'd like to return it." I hated the uncertain  tone in my voice.

Her manicured fingers reached inside and gripped the dress in her claws.  She spread it out over the table. "I don't see no hole."

I leaned forward and pointed, my heart hammering. Her gaze seared across my face. "Where's the receipt?"         

     



 

"Should be in the bag, I think." My voice was in danger of disappearing.

A stabbing feeling struck my heart as she searched the bag and didn't find one.

"I was just here, you can ask the lady over there." I pointed in her direction, but she was gone. Someone else took her place.

"No receipt, no return. Sorry." She shoved aside my bag and didn't even bother putting it back inside. "Next!"

Numbly, I placed my dress back inside and allowed myself to be swept  aside. My face was hot and my lunch churned inside me. I heard laughter  from a couple well-dressed, beautiful girls as I walked towards the exit  and cringed. Even though they weren't laughing at me, my brain still  insisted that it was a possibility.

Pathetic, I told myself. If Jessica was still here she would have made  the girl return the dress. She would have asked to speak to the manager.

But I wasn't Jessica. Inside, my body screamed for me to rush towards a safe place and that was my little red car.

Safe. No one can bother me.

I kept the windows rolled up, even though it was a warm day outside. I  didn't want to hear people's voices; I just needed a bit of quiet to  quell the nastiness in my stomach.

I teared up as I glanced at the shopping bag, disappointed in myself. I  just spent over a hundred dollars on something that needs to be  repaired. It wasn't even on sale. I knew what my mother would say if she  saw this. Ben had always done this stuff for me. Whenever my Comcast  stopped working, I gave the phone to Ben so he could deal with it.

When I got home, I shoved the shopping bag in a corner of my closet so  that I wouldn't have to think about my failure for a couple days. Back  in my room, I grabbed my sketchpad, ruler, and pencils and spread them  over my desk. The best light was in the kitchen, but I needed complete  silence to work on art. My environment needed to be a cocoon of artistic  energy. My eyes roved over the walls, where I pasted photographs of  some of my favorite corporate designs: Apple, Google, Facebook, and  Yahoo.

One day, I'll design something amazing for a company known all around the world.

But for now, I was working on penguins. My boss gave me the assignment  to redo the pamphlets for the penguin exhibit. It was one of the most  popular exhibits at the San Francisco Bay Aquarium, especially among  children. I drew a straight line across the page and my hand  instinctively flinched. An image of a wooden spoon cracking over my  knuckles echoed through the years and I tightened my fist.

It was only a sketch, but it had to be perfect. I used the ruler even  for the text; to make sure the crossed "T"s were perfectly straight.

Hours later, when I finished perfecting every little detail, I sat back  and admired my work. Now, it was time to do it all over again. This time  on Photoshop and Illustrator. By the time I finished everything, dark  orange light glowed on my wall through my blinds. I stared at my stupid,  cartoony graphic that burned my eyeballs for the past few hours. There  was nothing else to do and the floodgates holding back all my feelings  suddenly opened. Imaginary water poured in from the window, ruining all  of the possessions in my cave, and finally submerging me. I was gasping  for air.

What an empty life you have. Work, work, work.

I just spent my whole Saturday working, wasting most of my time on a  sketch I didn't really need. The emptiness of my life swallowed me like a  black hole in my chest, always needing more, more, and more. More  chocolate, more beer, more work and clothes. Yet, I still felt  unfulfilled. Empty.

Ben was my purpose. I'm one of those stupid girls who made everything in  life about their boyfriend. Every weekend, holiday, and party revolved  around the boyfriend. And now that he was gone, there was nothing left.  There was nothing to invest my energy in, besides work and my  possessions.

I surfed the web and browsed through Express and Urban Outfitters,  adding cute, expensive tops to my shopping cart. Buying crap made me  feel better. I had a hole and I would fill it with stuff.



The town car whisked across the Bay Bridge and I stared out the window  at the indiscernible black, rolling hills in the distance. My gaze  flicked to the empty leather seat beside me. My hands spread over the  seat and I imagined that he sat beside me. He grinned at me in  excitement. Ben would have loved this. It was like thinking of a dead  loved one. Tightness constricted my throat and the dark thoughts invaded  my consciousness, sapping the life out of me and evaporating my desire  for the party.