ALEX

TROPHY

I can hear my cell phone ringing in the background continuously but with this pounding headache that I've got I can't seem to budge out of bed.

Last night had to be the worst night of my life as I sat in a bar drinking my pain away. Do I miss Alex? Of course I miss him, I wish that we never got into our disagreement and broke it off.

But now that he's gone, that empty side of the bed is just that...empty. The warmth of his body will never be there, his scent gone and his touch a thing of the past.

My cell phone continues to ring until finally it stops. The room is quiet again but this time I'm awake and can't fall back asleep. I roll over to my side and all I can see is an old Rollingstone poster that used to belong to Alex. He loves that band every morning I'd wake up to the sound of his voice in the shower rocking out to his favorite songs by them.

"You can't always get what you want..." I sing softly remembering how excited Alex would sound while chanting that tune.

That song speaks the truth...you can't always get what you want even if you tried. And I tried hard with Alex I did all that I could.

Suddenly there is a knock at my door. I can hear the banging sound from down the hall through my ajar bedroom door. Quickly I sit up, my heart is racing to the thought that Alex could be back wanting to work things out.

I rush out of bed then down the hall, pounding headache and all and pry the front door open. There standing before me is a man in some khaki slacks and pink polo shirt. He sighs.

"I was beginning to wonder what happened to you. I called a million times," he babbles on.

Am I disappointed? Maybe. I thought that perhaps Alex wanted to work things out but instead of him standing at my front door...I have this man. This tall, husky, bearded, 5'11" of pure godliness before me.

"And who are you?" I ask.

He smirks. "I'm the guy who spent the whole night listening to you cry about your ex," he answers with sarcasm.

I'm shocked by all of this. "You know...Alex the dude that dumped you," he continues on. "Well I'm the guy who watched you cry while talking about him and then drove you home before digging into your purse to find your driver license."

I shrug my shoulders. "You want a trophy for being a good Samaritan," I comically question but he didn't seem amused by my remark.

"Maybe I do."

I grin. By the look on my face he already knew my next question.

"I'm Kitton but you can call me Kit."

I raise my eyebrows in utter confusion.

Kitton?