New York Nights
Page 124

When we kissed, I felt hints of emotions I once possessed. And after several meet-ups in cities all across the country, I wanted to deny that my attraction to her was more than skin deep. I wanted to deny that even though she was the exact type I should stay away from, I couldn’t seem to get close enough. She was getting under my skin, slipping into my marrow, and that was a problem.
Picking up my phone, I logged into my condo’s call log, stopping when I saw a new voicemail from an unfamiliar number. Helplessly hoping it was the one I’d waited years for, I typed the password into my system and let it play.
“One new message...” The system said before the familiar soft beep.
“Jake, it’s me...” It was the last person I wanted to hear again, Evan. “Jake, I really hate that you insist on rerouting all of our phone calls. It really hurts, and you never—”
“Stop.” I gritted my teeth as the message came to an end, scrolling past the new set of blocked numbers for Evan, Riley, and my father—the ten different ones they’d used this month.
As I added this new, unwelcome number to the list, a chill ran down my spine. It was a sudden reminder of how I’d been off track for the past weeks, how I’d lost focus and almost started to trust someone again.
Every person in my life, except one, had betrayed me at some point, or decided to take an opportunistic turn instead of remaining loyal, and I knew it was only a matter of time before Gillian did the same.
I walked back over to her as she slept and pulled the blanket across her body. I trailed my finger against her lips, making them curve into a sated smile, and then I took a pillow and a blanket to the couch.
I needed to stop whatever the hell this was turning into and return to what we were at the start. For both of our sakes.
 
 
GATE B26

JAKE
Madrid (MAD) Subject: Hey...
My parents (and family) are coming into town in a few weeks for that marriage proposal I told you about. We’ll both be in New York that weekend, and I was wondering if you wanted to be my date (casual...just casual) at dinner?
—Gillian
Subject: Re: Hey...
This email is not about fucking.
—Jake
Subject: Re: Re: Hey...
LOL. I’m aware. (Haven’t received one of those from you in awhile, so thank you for the laugh :-) ) Would you like to come, though? It might ease my nerves if you’re there...
—Gillian
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Hey...
Why would I want to meet your parents, Gillian? Would you introduce me as the guy you’re fucking?
—Jake
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Hey...
I would introduce you as my friend.
—Gillian
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Hey...
We’re not friends.
—Jake
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Hey...
Okay...Are you having a bad day or something? Something wrong?
—Gillian
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Hey...
Jake? Are you there?
—Gillian
I didn’t answer that thread. I started another.
Subject: Dallas.
Meet me at A21 Thursday.
—Jake
Subject: Re: Dallas.
I’m not meeting you anywhere until you tell me what the hell is wrong with you. What’s wrong, Jake?
—Gillian
Subject: Re: Re: Dallas.
Nothing is wrong with me, Gillian. A21. Thursday.
—Jake.
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Dallas.
I won’t be there. Shoot your come in the trash can.
—Gillian
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Dallas
You will be there. Bring your mouth.
—Jake
She never responded.
Days passed and no new words from her ever came. And on Thursday, I stood in the bathroom near A21, realizing she wasn’t going to show.
Agitated, I left and walked into the terminal—spotting her at a restaurant. She was sitting at a table alone with her arms crossed, looking off into the distance.
A part of me wanted to walk over and tell her to follow me back to the restroom, and another part of me wanted to apologize, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
She’d get over it.
 
 
GILLIAN

~BLOG POST~ Present Day
Foolish, foolish girl...
So much for not being a doormat.
I feel like one of the heroines in an old romance book—one of the Mary Sues who’s willing to put up with anything from an asshole hero in exchange for amazing cock. But I honestly can’t continue to live like this—can’t let someone toss my heart into a grinder over and over again for shits and giggles.
I denied him in Dallas, gave into him in Charlotte, and let him do whatever he wanted to do to me in New York.
And the only words spoken between us were moans. That, and a “See you next week.”
I know better than this...
Write later,
Mary-Sue
**Taylor G.**
1 comment:
KayTROLL: The ‘Misadventures of Taylor G.’s Emotional Pussy’ continues...
 
 
GATE B27

GILLIAN
Memphis (MEM)—> New York (JFK) I stared at Jake as he tossed a condom into the trash, waiting for him to make eye contact with me, but he seemed too pre-occupied.
“Jake, is something wrong with you?” I asked.
“No.” He adjusted his cufflinks. “I’ve told you no every time you’ve asked for the past couple of weeks.”
“Well, why don’t you answer my phone calls anymore?”
“I have nothing more to talk to you about.” He put on his blazer and walked over to the mirror. His eyes met mine in the glass and he raised his eyebrow. “Why?”
“I just thought we were getting somewhere...” I shrugged. “That’s why I asked. I feel like we’re—”
“We’re back to just fucking?”
I nodded. “I thought we were becoming more, and now you’re...You’re moving backwards, and you promised not to burn me.”
“How the fuck am I burning you?” He turned around. “I’m not doing anything different.”
“You’re shutting me out. You won’t fucking talk to me about the simplest of shit, and you get agitated if I ask you about your goddamn day.” I didn’t mean to yell, but my loud voice echoed off the empty walls. “You can’t say you haven’t noticed a difference between now and a few weeks ago. You were almost a Prince Charming, letting us connect on all the great things we have in common, but now you’re on the verge of being an unbearable asshole. You’re colder, meaner, and I don’t think I like you anymore.”
“You don’t need to like me to fuck me,” he said. “You just need to like fucking me.” He stepped closer, letting his forehead touch mine. “And from the way you still come every time we meet up, it’s clear you still like that.”
“Watch the way you talk to me.”
“Says the person who just said unbearable asshole?”
“I’m sure your feelings weren’t hurt at all.”
“I guess I’d have to have feelings for that to be the case.” He glared at me. “I’m not doing anything different. We’re fucking like we’re supposed to, you come every time, and I don’t think you can expect more than that. Yes, we share a love of crossword puzzles, traveling, and we both know plane design, but that’s as far as this will go, so if you want something more, tell me and I’ll walk away for good. Or since you always have to have the last word, you can walk away first. Do you want more?”