The Opportunist (Love Me with Lies, #1)(70)



I knew what I was going to do, something that would hurt him more than he hurt me. That’s the way I fought, dirty. An eye for an eye.

I wandered the busy Daytona streets, staring blankly into store windows. I found exactly what I was looking for a couple of blocks away, Swig Martini Bar. It was subdued and desperate, just like me. I entered through the broad doorway and flashed my ID to the bouncer. A mixture of smoke and a sweet perfume hit me in the face. The smell reminded me of the night I went to Caleb’s frat party on a mission to win him back. How depressing. I crowded to the bar and ordered a whiskey sour. The bartender eyed me curiously when I downed it in one shot and asked for another. I saw him pour an extra shot into the second one—bless him. I took my second drink to a little patio outside where I secured a table facing the ocean. It was a good setting. Mysterious, alone, and looking thoughtful. It was a trick that the best of women knew. Separate yourself from the herd, look beautiful, and a man would wander over.

He did. Tall, blonde, and in dress pants with a tie pulled in disarray around his neck.

“Hard day?” he asked, leaning on the banister and looking out over the water.



“Yes. You?”



“Very.” He smiled at me and I saw by the yellowness of his teeth that he was a smoker.



“Can I buy you a drink?” he nodded toward my empty glass and I shook my head yes.



“A shot of anything.”



“Okay.”



He came back with two. Good. I thought. My travels to wasted land would go all the faster.



We drank for over an hour before I invited him to the dance floor. He was a mediocre dancer but what did it matter at this point? I ignored my disgust at the way he rammed himself into the back of me and kept moving, focusing on the swirling in my head. The night became thick with hasty kisses and liquor provoked fondling and by midnight we were skipping through the streets toward my hotel.

“Hold on,” he said once we were inside and he was lying on top of me. I remember seeing him pull a condom from his wallet. He slapped it in the palm of his hand like I had seen people do with cigarette cartons and then ripped the packaging open with his teeth. I cringed, disgusted.

And then I remember feeling nothing. I just lay there and he didn’t seem to care at all. So this is how I am losing my virginity. I remember thinking. To a stranger, not to Caleb. When it was done, he fell asleep. I laid awake all night, sick to my stomach and hating myself. In the morning he left early. I never got his name. I waited anxiously for the guilt to come but all I felt was numbness. I knew that if I searched hard enough for those feelings that were lurking beneath the surface, I would find revulsion, but I wasn’t ready to hate myself. I was too busy hating Caleb. Around midday I heard a fumbling outside of the door. I knew he would come. He obtained a key to the room at the front desk and let himself in. I was sitting at the window when the door opened, I hadn’t showered and my hair was a rat’s nest around my face.

He didn’t say anything when he saw me, his eyes roamed around the room looking for signs of my pain. The mess, my clothes tossed here and there. His eyes fell on the condom wrapper that was ripped and perched on the nightstand. His hand on her thigh—my condom wrapper. These two images are burned into both of our memories forever, reaching out as a stumbling block into future relationships.

Unbeknownst to me, Caleb would never again be able to look at a condom wrapper without feeling sick. I saw realization snap into his face. His hurt came in the form of a twitch and then a gentle draining of the light from his eyes. I took it a step further, because remember, I fight dirty.

“I took Jessica Alexander to get the abortion. I told her to do it.” It took him a minute to grasp what I was saying. I looked at the cars that were driving by. I pictured myself putting my emotions in one of those cars and then watching it drive away. Feel nothing, I told myself. Feel nothing like he felt nothing when he cheated on me.

“I wanted you so badly that I connived and manipulated to get you. I stalked you for months. I knew every girl you dated. I knew every place you took each one. I planned it all out.” He still said nothing but I could feel his silent raging somewhere behind me. It was building and rolling off his body in waves.

“I always loved you. From the moment you first spoke to me.” Still nothing.

“I had sex with a stranger, to hurt you.” Those words sucked the air right out of the room. I felt my lungs constrict as the weight of what I had done started pressing down on me. Oh god, oh god, oh god…..

I heard a thud and I turned slowly to see Caleb, on his knees, his face fallen into his hands. I could see his body shaking, from tears or anger I did not know. He made no sound; there were just those silent convulsions that I would remember forever. My body stared to tremble as I realized what was happening. Everything was gone now. Me, him—us. We were forever changed. I didn’t want to live. I considered hurling myself out of the window so I wouldn’t have to face the agony of it all. I had hurt the person I loved the most, the only person I had. All to avenge myself. And in the end, I had destroyed myself. Minutes passed, then an hour. I wanted to go to him, to beg him to forgive me, to tell him that I would kill myself if he didn’t, but I couldn’t. I had too much cold in me for that. Why didn’t I see it before? The person I really was. How had I never known that I was an empty hole incapable of loving?

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