Today was a day off from practice, but I had meetings. My first meeting at 8am was over video to discuss my progress. thus far, I had a lot of thoughts, but only about two full sentences, but hey, it was only my third day. Somehow, they stretched that meeting out to be over one and a half hours.
I had about 20 minutes until my next meeting at 10am, so I went down the street to get coffee. I got back to my apartment about 12 seconds before the next call, but it was worth it, because this call was with other journalists just discussing journalism. Stupid, I know. After a whopping three hours of listening to four know it alls trying to show off, the meeting was finally over. I think I opened my mouth once.
I decided to get dressed and go to lunch. I put on my black pants, white under shirt, black blazer, and black heels, brushed out my hair, grabbed my purse, then left. I'd seen a little cafe with what looked like good salads on a commercial, so I wanted to go there.
I was just about to walk through the lobby when I froze.
"What are you doing here," I said. Spencer, my ex, was standing in front of the desk, yelling at the woman behind it. He turned towards me and laughed.
"I knew I could find you here," he said, walking towards me.
"You're a psycho, go home," I said. I was still frozen, not with fear, something I couldn't quite place. I didn't know why he was here. I thought I'd made it very clear I didn't want to see him. Ever again.
"I came all the way out here. I'm not fucking leaving until I get to talk with you."
"Fine, what do you want?"
"Not here."
"Then I'm not talking with you," I said, turning away. I did not want to speak with him behind closed doors, I needed a witness. I started to walk away, but he grabbed my arm.
"Come on," He said.
"Let go of me," I said, looking him right in the eye. He scoffed, then let go. He turned around, and I practically ran up the stairs to my apartment. I couldn't believe what just happened. I ran in, the locked my door. I just stood there. I didn't want to cry, I wasn't sad. I was angry. Angry I let that bitch waste my time, consume my thoughts, and make me feel worthless.
I sat down on the couch to process what happened. But the truth was I didn't know. I had no idea how to move on. I felt like it should have affected me more, but I just was unfazed. I had a meeting in 2 hours, good thing I took an acting lesson when I was 10.
"Cleo?" I heard with a knock on the door. I went to go see who it was. It was a mans voice, but it didn't sound like Spencer. I looked through the peephole. Gavi.
"Hey," I said, opening the door.
"Cleo, what happened in the lobby," He said in a serious tone.
"Oh God, ex boyfriend."
"Ex boyfriends don't come to Spain just to get the last word." My expression dropped. He was right.
"Things got messy, I didn't love him anymore. That made him angry. We were only together for two months, then I came here to Spain. He's just psycho," I explained.
"You can always talk to me," Gavi took a step towards me and hugged me. I buried my face in his shoulder and just cried. He smelled sweet. He hugged me tight, then stepped away.
"I want to take you somewhere tonight, can I pick you up at 6?" He asked.
"Where?" I asked, wiping my tears.
"You'll have to wait and see."
"Why not, see you then," I said.
"See you later, Cleo."
YOU ARE READING
score - Pablo Gavi
Fanfictionyoung journalist Cleo James is leaving London to move to Spain. The football team in Barcelona is being featured in a huge magazine, and Cleo was chosen to write the article. She will spend one month trying to craft an article that captures the team...