Pause

Prologue

What a two-faced, cheating, totally useless son of a bitch. How could he? He'd been full-on lying to me for three months, three whole months! Wait, that's twelve weeks or...ninety days.

"Uh, Bronte, are you still listening?" he demanded, scraping his hand through his hair as his blue eyes flickered. They were still glinting in the Autumn sunlight though.

"No." Ha, yes, unfortunately.

"Oh come on, how were I to know that you'd turn up here again in the first place?" he spoke slowly, using the tone of voice that had captivated me in the first place. Sadly though, this time he made it all sound so meaningless. He had well and truly screwed me over. Big time.

What I desperately wanted to say was that I lived here and technically he was the one who had bumped into me (again). I however knew that the response wouldn't quite cut it.

"And so whilst completely bullshitting your way into my pants for months, it didn't cross your mind to maybe mention it to me?" I spat instead, placing my hands on my hips. I had hoped that it would make me feel rather authoritative but it didn't, I felt like a two year old who had just had their rusks taken away.

"You never asked me about that stuff?"

"No, you never told me!" Bloody hell, at this rate I was going to be detonating the 'C bomb' and I'd then be hurling it in his direction- metaphorically that is. Although second thoughts, a physical weapon may come in handy...

Where was my nail file?

"Things were complicated and I thought that maybe if I didn't tell you, then everything would be fine and then we'd go from there." How dare he look at me like that. How dare he be standing there shirtless...shirtless with his sandy coloured hair flopping over his left eye. Bastard.

"You still lied, you still cheated and have hurt her." I forced, putting my foot down. He was an unbelievable specimen, "and me." I added much, much more quietly.

"Come on Bronte, grow up a little." Great, now he was bringing height jokes into this.

"Not my fault I'm short!" Protesting and fully losing it, I tore up the little rectangle of card that sat on the breakfast bar. More commonly it was known was an airline ticket.

"I wasn't saying anything about your h-...Why the fuck did you just do that?" Now he was swearing. Hold up, that was my job!

"Because I don't want to go away with someone who's been sleeping with someone else for God know's how long!"

"That was MY ticket," he reiterated, running his hand over his freshly shaved stubble. Eh, ah well.

"Oh."

"Yes, bloody oh. How am I meant to get home now?"

"Swim?" I tried, desperately willing myself to think of something clever to say. Nope, absolutely nothing was coming to mind. Damnit.

"You what?" He briefly looked puzzled, not quite processing what either of us were saying. His phone was vibrating in the pocket of his shorts. If it was her then I was going to grab the mobile and throw it out the window and into the ocean. If I could throw that far- my apartment wasn't exactly a front-line location, and it still took a couple of minutes to walk to the beach (or thirty seconds if I ran on that rare occasion I was feeling brave).

"I dunno." I came over sheepish and looked at my feet. I had stupidly noticeable tan-lines from where I'd been wearing my thongs on them for the past six months.

"Right, so-"

"You're an idiot and I really hope you feel bad. Especially for...what's her name again?"

"Tamzin," he mumbled, staring at the floor. He hadn't moved from his spot.

"That's the one. So I suggest that you tell her everything before I kick your fucking arse out of my apartment."

"I need to do what?"

"You heard me. Just because you have half of the female population drooling over you, it doesn't make you perfect. So please put a bloody t-shirt on and dial her number." I stood my ground not caring about the time zone situation or contradicting myself. Evidently he was still used to getting away with murder. Or shagging two people at once. This probably wasn't the first time he'd been caught out. Having his flawless torso on display did not help.

Jesus I fancied him, a lot.

"Alright, alright. Give me a minute. But seriously, maybe if you weren't so keen in the first place..."

Ouch. Do not mention that night Bronte, do not...

"You've got thirty seconds before I call her myself." Ah, well done!

"Shit." He stumbled into my bedroom to grab his top, leaving me stood in the open-planned kitchen/ lounge area. The place was a state.

So this was it?

Yup, it most definitely was. Well it had certainly been fun whilst it lasted. The only trouble was, besides the initial anger and the overwhelming urge to vomit on the brand new flooring I'd had put down in time for winter, I knew that it was going to be incredibly hard to get over him.

It didn't help that I was going to be seeing him on my television screen all of the bloody time.

Seriously though, how did we even end up in this mess...

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Hey guys, yes I've started something completely different- an original! I've got the first few chapters sorted and I'm trying them over the next few weeks.

Please let me know what you think, your feedback will decide whether I continue penning or not!

Hope you liked it :)