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THE HIGH WAS GONE AS SOON AS IT CAME
Venus Meyers is a regular college student. Living with her boyfriend up until she finds out he's a serial cheater. After losing her job and her graduation getti...
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"I don't," I answer his stupid question.
What difference is that to him?
His question brought back unpleasant memories. I didn't want to remember Austin. I haven't thought of him for some time now, and I wanted it to stay that way. I didn't want to waste any more time than I've already wasted. And I certainly didn't want the reminder of my relationship with him.
"And you?" I ask, then clarifying, "Do you have a girlfriend?"
"No. I don't do relationships." He says, inhaling the smoke of a cigarette, his Adam's apple moving. I've got to admit, he's attractive. Even beautiful. But he's an asshole.
"So you're one of those?" I nod.
"One of what?" Confusion is clear in his voice.
"The type who either has more one-night stands, than one can count or a booty call for each day of the week, in every part of the world," I clarify.
He doesn't say anything, finishing up his cigarette and smashing its burning end into a metal tray on the glass table in front of the couch we're sitting on.
This hotel is stunning. It's not the tasteless type of wealthy. It isn't too classical, or too modern. It's the golden mean. Everything is thought out.
"And would you like to be one of them?" He asks, catching me off guard.
"One of my booty calls? As you call them," he clears out my confusion.
Did he really ask me that? Or am I hearing things now?
"Did you really just ask that?" I ask with a disdained voice.
"Yeah. Answer the question."
"No. Of course, not," I say quickly. "I wouldn't sleep with you even if you paid million dollars."
He chuckles. The sound is deep, almost pleasant until I remember from whom it's coming.
"You're saying this now. I bet a month from now you'll be begging me to fuck you," his words fuel my anger.
"You wish."
• • •
Paris is a beautiful city. Living up to the expectations.
Though, I couldn't fully enjoy exploring it.
I had to play pretend with the asshole, even now. I couldn't have one outing without him. It annoyed me.
A photographer is also following us around, taking pictures of us here and there.
His hand is linked with mine. He wore sunglasses. He occasionally smiled at me, hugged me, and even kissed me. The last one wasn't my favorite.
To everyone he looked like a good boyfriend, but only if they knew how he is. He's so far from being boyfriend material, that I'll probably reach Saturn faster than he'll reach being even remotely close to boyfriend material.
