Cover by: @authornataliaava
🔞🔞WARNING {18+}🔞🔞
Sequel to: In Need of a Muse.
⚠Book Two CAN'T be read as a standalone.
Timay finds herself back where she started, distracting herself with meaningless sex, the only difference this time, she's runn...
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"I seduced Ethan," I bury my face in my free hand.
"The fuck?"
"I know," I sigh, hoping I can make her understand. "I need to know why he cheated on me, Nay. I need closure and I need answers. Asking him directly wasn't getting me anywhere so, I used my tits to get him to fess up."
"Did it work?"
"He was about to, but Noah showed up."
"Shit."
"Yeah, and then, Noah kissed me..." I trail off, unsure of how to say what I'm feeling next. "When he kissed me, Nay. It's like the closure I need didn't matter. Nothing seemed to matter in that moment."
"Oh, my God," she chirps excitedly. "Maybe all you need is Noah."
"He's just a distraction," I sigh. "I'll end up running away from my problems again until they eventually catch up to me and I'll be exactly where I started... Again."
"But he–"
"He's in a relationship and he kissed me. What does that say about him?" I can't judge. I kissed back. Fuck, what does that say about me?
Shit!
"Actually, he left her." I close my eyes and bite down on my lip hating how my heart flutters at her words.
"Nay-Nay," I whine, tapping my fingers against my closed laptop trying to shove aside thoughts of Noah's fingers pressing into my body. That kiss did a number on me. "Noah and I, we can't be together."
"That's bullshit and you know it!"
"I've got to go," I respond, hanging up, and dropping my phone next to my laptop. I stare at the silver blinds covering the large window and cringe at the crisp white walls and walk-in closet doors I so badly want to splash a bucket of paint on.
Nothing in this bedroom screams me except my laptop on the pristine white oak desk nestled in the corner which I requested. I wanted a big enough desk for my laptop and steaming mug of coffee to help get me through the grueling hours I planned to sit in front of my laptop drowning out the rest of the world. I also wanted a comfortable enough desk chair that didn't cause me pain and discomfort.
I didn't ask for the fancy fucking shit that does little to impress me. I didn't want crisp white walls which I could add my own pop of color to and I sure as fuck don't want to be living in this house but here I am.
I so desperately want to walk away, turn my back, and keep moving forward.
I want to look to the future and hope for something better but if I've learnt anything in the last year. It would be that I need to make peace with my past before I can look forward to a healthier, happier future.
Only problem is, none of that seems like me – sigh!
It's frustrating but it's true. I don't move forward and let things go. I don't work on shit. I bottle it up and hope it solves itself. I push it aside and allow it to fester until it's filled with pus and ready to explode on some poor unsuspecting victim that's completely oblivious to the shitstorm brewing within me.
