My Addiction (Second Chances Series)(13)

He shrugged his shoulders, same as me, and just reached for my hand. “Let’s get you to the hotel so you can change, and we can make everyone here eat their hearts out beach side.”

I took another long swig of my wine and added more hot water into my bath.

Brad and I had a ball in Miami. I can’t begin to remember what his friend’s names were right now, but his friends were attractive in their own right. He had three people with him, two women and a guy, and we shared a huge suite with three bedrooms in it and two fold out couches. The women took the bedrooms while the guys slept on the couches. Everyone seemed cool. The guy with Brad was slightly shorter than he was, but was a very nice looking guy. He had short blonde hair and brown eyes. One of the girls with them was blonde, as well thin with large boobs, and, I swear, a butt that had to be surgically implanted. It looked so fake.

Now, the other girl, who I swear had a thing for Brad, had chestnut brown hair that reached the middle of her back. She had some curves to her with great complexion and an even better rack. They were fake too, I knew, but they were still spectacular.

The day before I left for Miami and returned to my reality, we decided to party hard. We ended up in a VIP section of one of the hottest clubs in Miami. I had borrowed my friend’s red dress that she coined her “come fuck me dress” with the idea of seduction, of course. It was tight everywhere, leaving nothing to the imagination. You couldn’t wear a bra or panties, so I was butt ass naked underneath.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one with the idea of seduction. Both females that came with Brad had the same tight dress idea in mind. And as we walked South Beach, it seemed to be a “tight dress convention.” I didn’t stand out at all, not to the men out there and especially not to Brad, who by the way just said to me, “Nice dress.”

I drank as much as I could and danced with anyone who asked me. What I couldn’t stand was seeing fake boob girls dancing all over Bradley. I was hoping that whole week that I would get the chance to tell him how I really felt about him. I didn’t want to be his friend anymore. I wanted to know, so badly, how he felt about me, if he could see himself with me. I was prepared to let him go as a friend. I couldn’t stand it any longer. I was lonely at home; trying to hold out for a man who I hoped wanted me. That was getting so old. As I watched him surrounded by all these women, I felt like I didn’t have a chance in hell. I was done. I was tired and drunk, and I wanted to go back to the hotel suite and privately fawn after him for the last time before I moved on. I told his friend I was leaving because Brad seemed otherwise too occupied with another fake tits girl at the club to notice, and I didn’t feel like going over there to break up the two.

When I made it back to the hotel, my cell went off. Bradley had texted me, “Hey, where did you go?”

I text back saying simply, “Hotel.”

I went in search of something to drown my sorrows in on the suite’s bar and made me another drink. My cell went off, and I saw he replied, “Why?”

That for some reason made me angry. I texted back, “What difference does it make? Clearly you’re occupied with all the fake tits you could ever want to even notice, so it doesn’t matter why I left.”

It was hell abbreviating that, so I wasn’t sure if he understood everything or not. When my phone went off, and I looked at it, my frown deepened, and I wanted to throw my phone in the Atlantic. There was only one word on the screen, “Jealous.”

Fired up, I texted back, “Fuck no… I hope your dick falls off.”

I put my phone down next to me and made myself another drink. It went off again, but I didn’t bother looking at it. Twenty minutes later, after my third drink, Bradley and all his glory walked into the suite. I watched him in his tan slacks and white linen shirt that seemed to have been unbuttoned more than what it was the last time I saw him.

I kept my eyes on him as he removed his shirt, leaving only his tank style t-shirt. He walked up next to me and made himself a drink. I refused to look at him. I just sat down on the stool and kept my eyes forward. I refused to allow his presence, his closeness to affect me.

I felt his eyes on me though, and it was so unnerving.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” I heard him ask.

“Nothing to tell,” I replied keeping my eyes straight ahead.

“You know you have nothing to worry about right?”

I shot him a look of annoyance and rolled my eyes. “You’re right, Bradley, I don’t. I really don’t care what you do. I’ve told you this already.”

“Yes, you did.”