I watch him as he is busy getting dressed. He is one of the sexiest men I have ever seen and probably the only one that I will ever be with. Yes, I am saying this as I care, but there is no harm in admiring the view while you have it.
Lucas Lucero is definitely a price that any woman would love to have. And for a brief moment in time, he was mine.
Or was he?
So it is with nothing but that fucking gorgeous smile on his face that he leans over and places his lips softly against mine, "I need to go, baby doll."
As I take his lips for mine to taste, I only softly whisper, "Will I see you later?"
He fumbles a bit, looking for the right words, "I am going to be a bit busy tonight at the club, but I can come over afterward."
Well, now do I tell him that I will see him later whether he likes it or not, or do I keep quiet and play this one out for Lucas is up to something, and god, I think I know already.
But as I nibble at his bottom lip for the last time, "Then I might see you later."
And with that, he takes that goddamn tight ass out the door, leaving me rather frustrated. Well, I can… Let us rather think about this one.
Lucas is not ready to be a single woman man. Not tonight, not tomorrow, in fact, not fucking ever. I can almost say it for certain, if I get to that club, with utmost perfect timing, I will find some bitch on his lap that he would or probably have fucked already.
Why am I doing this to myself if I know who he is?
Why did I ever get involved with him in the first place?
Well, there is one thing that I can say… I don't regret a thing.
I fell deeply, madly in love with Lucas and truly believed that he was the best thing that ever happened to me. And with every fiber in him, he said that he felt the same, well I would like to think that he did.
But he spent half of our relationship; perhaps half is saying it too generous, where it is for the most part of it. He spent all the time that he could have with me at the club busy cheating on me with some other bitch.
Because of Lucas, I know what it feels like to mean nothing to the one person that means everything to you. I resent him for breaking my heart; he showed me new highs and new lows and taught me what I want in a man and what I absolutely will not stand. So in a twisted way, I am grateful.
Yes, we fell in love way too fast, or should I rather rephrase and say lust for that was what it was in the beginning; it was all about the sex. Yet, getting to know him was one of the most thrilling things that have ever happened to me. He made me feel so loved and so wanted. I couldn't imagine being with anyone but him. All of my past failed relationships paled in comparison, and in my mind, I had finally learned what it felt like to be loved.
It was going so incredibly well I trusted him completely. I wanted to believe I was just paranoid when that nagging voice in my mind started telling me that he was cheating. But when I confronted him about it, he promised me that it was only in my mind. I believed him.
Funny enough, if I think of it now, I felt bipolar as I swung back and forth between confidence that we were great together and paralyzing fear that I was losing him.
From that point, I doubted him, and I knew that he was living a double life. In the meantime, he grew colder and more distant, claiming he was having a hard time at work and that he loved me.
Unfortunately for him, my nagging self-doubt caused a moment of weakness, and I went to the club. And god, until this day, I wish that he never went that night, for I counted each step that he took to that office with some blonde's manicure fingers curled into his.
But I thought at first that it was just a moment of weakness, for he always kept on telling me how much he loved me; he repeated that like a mantra. He kept saying that we were real. We were great together.
I would have loved to believe that I was perfect for him, that it was just him that fucked up. After all, he told me that he had never loved anyone the way that he loved me.
That night in the darkness of our room, I thought that he would realize that he had made a horrible mistake. But there was nothing horrible about it…well, at least for him.
As my emotional, optimistic side focused on the love we did have, and how real that was, the part of my brain that is logical and self-preserving wants to drown in a pool of my own tears. He was a whole chapter of love and loss in my story, but I was just a footnote in his chapter.
He was never mine for the taking; Lucas belonged to the woman that he felt like taking that night. He did not love me; I was just someone nice to have around when he came home after a night of fucking some other bitch in his office. I was like a placeholder in his bed, keeping it warm and giving him the comfort of holding onto someone while he was happy off into his own dreamland.
I felt like one of those weird, dilapidated speed bumps with the weathered yellow paint that you can barely notice as you drive over them. That is what I felt I meant to Lucas Lucero.
In the end, I gave him more than he deserved, and he took from me proportionally. I still don't regret meeting him or loving him. Maybe it is nostalgia, but I like to think at least some of it was real. I would rather feel the highs and the lows of love than shutting myself out and be numb to it all.
Lucas shattered my heart, but by learning to make it whole again by myself, I will become stronger. Someday I will be happy and will love someone more than I ever thought possible. I will look back on us.
I genuinely hope that he has got his shit together, took down his walls. I really hope that when he says that he loves me now that he truly means it.
But I can honestly say that I do not believe a fucking word that he says.
So it is with that that I get into a tight red dress, the ones with the little strings on the side, the ones that I now used to drive Lucas mad. Slipping on my white stiletto boots, I give myself a once-over in the mirror.
Much satisfied that I am going to make a few heads turn tonight, I make my way to Savanah that is waiting in the lounge.
She only but gives me a thumbs up but then follows it with a warning, "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Sav, I know the man is still screwing around. He would not have changed. Lucas Lucero is not capable of being faithful. His fucking dick does not allow him."
"Then let us go do this, but promise me one thing…"
"I promise I will not beat the bitch to death."
Then she comes with some more solid advice which I know is rather the best option to do this, so, "Scope the man out. Maybe it might just be a moment of weakness."
"Yes, like all the fucking weaknesses those months that I sat at home waiting for him like a goddamn lovesick puppy. Sorry, Sav."
With that, we make our way down to the car, and much against her better judgment, she lets me drive. As I slam that pedal down to the floor and the engine starts vibrating, the adrenaline starts pumping like honey through my veins.
I am on a high, and I know that it is going to come crashing down. But right now, the only thing that is crashing is the bitch that is sitting on his lap.
Only but twenty minutes later, we find ourselves exiting the car and striding the pavement like a bunch of fucking supermodels. We skip the line and slip past a bunch of irate women into the club.
It is not long before he comes into sight… There he is, the god, the man, there is Lucas Lucero…
And what else is he?