Greatest Distraction (Distracted #1) (4 page)

There
he
was, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair and body dry as could be, but his face flushed. The moment he’d opened his mouth to speak, I heard a woman’s voice, asking who was at the door seconds before she appeared from around the banister that led to his room. I guessed I could be grateful she’d at least draped the sheet over herself, I don’t know what I would’ve done otherwise. He knew he’d been caught, and, thankfully, didn’t try to snow me into believing something I wouldn’t have anyway. He’d just said that we were all just having fun, right? We’d never agreed on anything serious.

I could do nothing but gape, my mouth opening and closing like a fish. Sure, we hadn’t agreed on a solid relationship, but after almost a year of dating, I’d assumed that it was assumed. Yes, I made an ass out of you and me, twice in a row. Well, an ass out of me and myself.

Without saying anything, what could I say to make the situation any different, I turned on my heel and walked away. The bottle of wine slipped out of my hand as I made my way back down his cobblestone walkway, but I never stopped, the movie falling shortly after. I’d been unable to think, deciding to walk instead of climbing back into my white Civic, and I turned down the street, not caring how I got home or where I was going.

Somehow, I’d eventually gotten home
… Elle having come to my rescue, sending Nick and his friend to pick my car up so I wouldn’t have to go back to that house. I was grateful for it, and even more so when I heard the verbal lashing her then-fiancé had given the man who’d broken me. Words like ‘despicable asshole’ and ‘playboy’ had been thrown, I’d been told. There’d also been a strong warning given: “Stay away from Ryen, or you will get the same treatment you gave her heart, only with our fists.” I still wish I could have seen the look on his face for that.

Suddenly rightfully angry, I threw the stack of pictures, sending them flying across the room. Why was I sitting there, a complete mess over what that asshole had done to me? Yes, we
had
been good while we were together, but any man that could do that once, would certainly do it again. It was in their genes and completely unavoidable. Hell, I’d go so far to say that most men were that way. Except Chris.

Ugh.
I’d swapped Mister-Almost-Right for Mister-I’ll-Never-Be-Right. What was wrong with me? Surely there had to be something better out there, someone who would be who I needed and not make me crazy in the meantime. There had to be a man who would understand I wasn’t a toy to be played with, a life-sized Barbie with feelings and a good heart. I was smart, at least I thought so, generally fun to be around; I liked sports!

I abruptly wished I had a fireplace so I could throw the offending pictures, along with their memories, into it and watch them burn. Never one to be un-resourceful, I snatched them back up, and in a wash of triumph, I ripped them. Tore through them and wished I could cackle maniacally as I did, but that would just make me cough and end the awesomeness I was doing now. I
would
get past this, past him, once and for all. So what if I’d seen him for the first time since the whole nightmare. So what if he looked ridiculously sexy and I’d looked like death warmed over. One day, a real man would love me, even in my current state. Yes!

Feeling triumphant, I threw the now ripped, tiny, unrecognizable scraps of photo
s across the room. No longer were they pictures – they weren’t memories of happy times, nor were they chains of heartbreak past. Ironic how such small pieces of paper could’ve affected me so much. They’d once been a lodestone, one I was too weak to get rid of. Not anymore. I could have cheered I felt so exhilarated, until my gaze settled on the mess I’d made of the room. Huffing, I turned around and went in search of the vacuum.

Confetti gone from the floor?
Check! Nose running, coughing, and slightly dizzy from exertion and dust? Check! Heart taped firmly back together? Sort of. I’ll admit, much of my bravado disintegrated in the time it took to find the stupid sucking machine. Of course it had to be in the last place I’d ever check … Whatever possessed me to plop it in the spare bathroom? How random is that?!

Wiping the sweat from my forehead with the bottom of my shirt, I stood in the middle of the room, rotating slowly while I tried to figure out what to do next. The thought of going back to bed, or even the couch, was alluring, but I knew if I so much as sat down on anything soft right now, I wouldn’t get back up.
Decisions, decisions.

Just then, my stomach grumbled, making my decision for me. It had been quite a while since I’d eaten
… well over a day, and apparently my body was demanding sustenance now. Giving in, I forced my feet to drag me toward the kitchen and to the cupboards. I’d put away the groceries I’d bought while talking to Elle, but still hadn’t paid attention to what they were. I was seeing them clearly now, though.

I guess my subconscious had decided it was a good idea to buy five cans of tuna, the ones with the mermaid on them, a can of cream of mushroom soup, a box of rainbow wafer cookies, two bags of potato chips
, and a banana. One banana. Not a
bunch
of bananas, or even two … only one. Why? Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe I’d have more luck in the fridge…

Pulling hard on the door, I stared at the contents at my disposal. As
echoes of ‘
are you watching a movie in there’
played through my mind, I took in the week-old takeout containers, the pound of salami, two pounds of provolone cheese – TWO POUNDS – and pack of hot dogs. Snatching the salami off the shelf, I grabbed a bottle of water and perched on a barstool at the counter, not bothering to look for bread. There probably was none.

As I ate the sliced meat I thought about my life and my choices, my mistakes, and what I wanted for the future. Pulling my cell from my
back pocket I flipped to the messages. As I started text messaging Elle, my mind drifted briefly back to my refrigerator. I almost dropped the phone as I realized I’d still forgotten milk. Damn it.

Warily glancing at the clock, I pressed the send button, waiting rather impatiently for the little progress bar to move and show sent.

*
Me:
Hey lovely, you awake still?*

Almost immediately, my phone pinged a response back:

*
Elle:
Yep. What’s up, Doll?*

*
Me:
I think I need a getaway…to get away…*

*
Elle:
Yeah? What are you thinking? You gonna take your loser boyfriend?*

*
Me:
Not sure where yet…and no 2 Chris. I think I want to go alone.*

There was a long pause as I watched the little “…” appear, stating that she was typing. I was almost cringing, like I was asking my mom for permission to go
or something. Thing was, if Elle didn’t think it was a good idea, there was a slight chance I wouldn’t do it. I trusted her implicitly and she was generally the more level headed of the two of us. Praying silently that she would tell me it was a good idea, I rolled another piece of lunch meat and jammed the whole thing in my mouth.

*
Elle:
I think it could be a good idea. Maybe you could clear your head some… yay for not taking the loser. You’re too good for him, but I’ve said that b4. Do you know when?*

I sighed in relief at her approval, while also shaking my head. Yes, she’d told me many times before that she didn’t think Chris was good for me. This wasn’t new news. Hell, even I knew he wasn’t good for me. He was actually driving me crazy. I still had dozens of unread text messages and unheard voicemail messages on my phone just waiting for me.

*
Me:
No… but soon. A week, maybe? Long enough 2 give my boss time to cover for me. I have the time off.*

*
Elle:
Not like it matters if they fire you.*

*
Me:
Don’t start woman. *

*
Elle:
Okay okay! #justsaying*

I
could almost see my friend holding her hands up, as if to keep me from going back down that road. It was another thing that we talked about often. Truth be told, I really didn’t
need
my job. The thing was that I wanted it. Remember when I said that Chris had a trust fund and was loaded? Yeah, well, when my father passed away, he left his estate entirely to me. He’d been successful in the farming industry (yes, farming) and had stocks in just about everything. I didn’t touch the money often, much to Elle’s dismay. She could never understand why I worked instead of living off his money. My reason?

My father always worked. He was the one
who was up before the sun, doing all that needed to be done. Even later in life, when he’d long since traded his work gloves and coveralls for slacks and a button down. He was the first in the office in the mornings and the last to leave at night. He’d always tell me, “
Ry, to live fully, you must work wholly. Money doesn’t grow on trees and success isn’t a random shrub that blooms.”

He’
d been gone almost ten years, and still I followed his example. Of course, when he passed and I was younger, I didn’t really understand what he’d meant. At nineteen, all I’d known was that his words had been important to him, and
he
had been important to me. So, I’d kept the job I’d worked part time in college, even deciding to stay afterward.

Now, at twenty-eight, I knew what his words meant. In order to do what you want, when you want, you have to work hard. Money is earned, rarely given, never grown, and everything takes it. Elle’s one of the few who
still doesn’t get it. She was already set before she got married, moneywise – her family was independently wealthy … well, wealthy for being wealthy anyway. Nick was military, not that it mattered; money between them was never a problem. Luckily though, she rarely ever truly pushed me on the issue.

Elle and I had agreed to disagree a long time ago. She understood that I wanted to work, even if not why. I knew she thought I was being foolish about it, not living off money that was mine. Actually, the real argument about my money and working usually came from Chris. Apparently, any princess of his should never work, and live his life. Not. Happening. Buddy.
I actually like working, if I’m honest. Talking to people, using my brain … It works for me.

Luckily most of the other men I’d ever dated never had any idea about the money I had waiting for me in the bank. It wasn’t any of their business what my bottom dollar was
… Besides, half the time I didn’t know. I hadn’t touched it since it’d been transferred to me after my father’s funeral. They’d tried to set it up where some would automatically transfer to my account monthly like an allowance, but I’d kiboshed that. No. I would work and it would be kept as a safety net. So it sat pretty for times like now, when I wanted – no, needed – to get away.

The chime of my phone shook me out of my musings.

*
Elle:
You can stay at Central Park, if you want. No one is there now*

‘Central Park’ meant her flat right off of Central Park in New York City. Her parents bought it for her when she turned eighteen and we went to college at NYU.
Sure, it was a bit away, walking distance, about six miles from campus, but Elle had wanted the view. What Elle wanted, Elle got. We’d stayed there for the entire four years before moving to Atlanta. I wish I could say we had a good reason for picking Georgia, but, well, we didn’t. We’d simply closed our eyes and pointed on a map, and that’s what we got.

Elle usually rented it out to other college students during the year, so I was surprised to hear that no one was there. I hadn’t even thought about New York. Ah, how I missed the
Big Apple. When we’d arrived, two girls fresh from the country of Missouri, it’d been overwhelming, at least for me. Elle had gone often with her parents. Now, though, I loved it. The sounds, the traffic, the weather, the food – nothing was better than the aliveness of that city.

My thoughts going to the idea of endless delivery food options, my mouth watered. I sighed as I looked down at the cold salami on the counter. Was this what I was reduced to?

*
Me:
You sure?*