The Stopover

Damn it, Emily, why do you always take the hard way? Why do you always fall for the wrong guy? The last man had no motivation, and this man has too much. Both men didn’t care enough to go the extra mile for me. Maybe my expectations are too high from my book boyfriends in my romance novels—maybe Jameson was right on that one. But damn it, I want the fucking fairy tale for once.

The elevator door opens, and I walk

History will be kind to me, for I intend to write it,” I say.

“Quoting Winston Churchill now, Mr. Miles?” she breathes.

We are officially a bad idea

We are officially a bad idea

This is like reality porn . . . only ten times better.

What the hell am I doing here? I’m a good girl, and good girls don’t do bad things with men like this.

I wish I could bottle this moment.

There are moments in your life that you know you will remember forever.

Certain situations that are poignant and have shaped who you are.

Our eyes search each other’s, and without a word said, he grabs my ponytail and wraps it around his hand and pulls my head back to his face.

“Yes, sure, you can have my number,” I whisper into the silence.

But he didn’t want it. He’s gone.