Easy Kisses(17)

“You haven’t missed anything yet,” she says.

Simon isn’t looking at me, which is good. It would only make me more uncomfortable. He’s walking across the stage, talking expressively with his hands. He has a mic attached to his ear, so his hands are free, and I love watching him speak. He’s an excellent public speaker. He’s calm, comfortable.

Sexy as all get out.

“So, we’re going to take a bit of a detour today, ladies. We’ve spent the past eight days talking about self-esteem, goals, how to achieve those goals, networking, etc. Today we’re going to talk about your love lives.”

“It’s about time!” Someone calls out from the audience, making us all smile.

“Some portions of today are going to be fun, and others will be uncomfortable. That’s okay. You can ask me anything, and I’ll do my best to answer your questions.”

Hands are thrown into the air, but Simon holds his own hands up in surrender.

“Hold off on the questions for a bit. First, I’d like to speak a bit about expectation and self-worth.”

For an hour Simon works the stage, reminding us all that we are worth so much more than what we’re willing to settle for. Questions are asked and answered, and I sit here all the while, listening and getting angrier by the minute.

“If you don’t want to be a side piece, or a friend with benefits, don’t settle for that from any man.” Simon is passionate as he repeats what he’s been driving home all day. “If you want a man to be devoted to you, and to love you unconditionally, you have to do that for yourself first.”

For the better part of ten years I’ve been involved with a man who didn’t even like me. He just liked the sex. Because seriously, the sex was great. But now, as I sit here and listen to Simon talk about not settling for less than you deserve, I realize that this is exactly what I’ve been doing all of my adult life.

It’s been my choice. I knew that until I found the one, I was content with casual relationships. But at the same time, it makes me feel cheap. And so fucking mad. At Ryan, at myself, and even at Simon for bringing all of this shit up.

Just before class is over for the day, I gather my things and leave. I can’t listen to it any more.

“Charly!”

I stop halfway down the hall to the elevators and see Violet hurrying to me.

“Are you okay?”

“Peachy,” I reply. “I need to be done with today.”

“This wasn’t fun for you.” Her eyes are concerned and she pats my shoulder, and that’s all I can take.

“No.” My voice is flat. “It wasn’t fun. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And with that I turn and rush back to my room. I want to call Ryan and scream at him, tell him that he can go fuck himself from now on, and how dare he treat me like something he can just throw away? He doesn’t have to love me. I don’t love him either.

But damn it, he sure as hell should have respected me.

I sit on my balcony for a while, silently fuming while I watch birds swoop through the air, a flock of ducks swim across the lake, and the sun hide behind clouds, then poke back out again.

How did I not see it? Am I too easy to trust? Or was I just blind, and assumed that he felt the same way that I did? Maybe I didn’t read between the lines during the times apart. My arrangement with Ryan worked for me because I’d consumed myself with work and family for so long, I wasn’t ready for anything more serious than friends with benefits. But I should have asked more questions. I should have paid more attention.

And maybe I’m being a little hard on myself and Ryan is just an asshole.

After a while, there’s a knock on my door, and I know exactly who it is. He couldn’t have come after me with a hundred women looking on, and I wouldn’t expect him to.

Hell, I don’t expect him to come after me at all.

Because as he’s said over and over, this is just professional, and I already know that he’s not the one for me, and the chemistry is just science.

Science is a bitch.

I stay where I am, rocking in my chair, even when he knocks again, and then for a third time.

“Charly! Open up.”

And just with those three words, I’m all pissed off again. So I march to the door and swing it open, glaring at him.

“You don’t have the right to be demanding with me.”

“You don’t have the right to lock me out,” he counters.

“Fuck yes, I do.” I stand on my tiptoes and stick my finger in his face. “You’re not my boyfriend. You’re not even my friend. You’re a man that I know, that’s it.”

“That’s not it,” he says, beginning to breathe hard.