Between Boyfriends (Book 1 in the Between Boyfriends Series)

Chapter 1

He never loved me.

The words circled around and around inside her head until they seemed to burst out her ears. Her thoughts swirled angrily in front of her face, crashing against the Egyptian cotton walls of her one-thousand-thread-count sanctuary. Suddenly, she couldn't breathe; she was choking on the spinning truths.

I need out.

Jan threw the covers violently from her. She emerged from her burrow of sweaty sheets, tear-stained pillows, and used tissues squinting like a broken-hearted groundhog with a cold. She gasped for air. One hand pressed anxiously to her chest, bringing her awareness to the hollow feeling underneath the soft cotton of her Tinkerbell sweatshirt. Her hand drifted to the several layers of tears, snot, and perspiration she wore along with the pink sweatshirt and wiped the sleep from her eyes.

Harsh sunlight filtered into her bedroom window, exposing her face to the sun for the first time in days. Jan cringed from the light. Her stomach grumbled halfheartedly. A wadded-up tissue hung in her hair. She barely noticed as she continued to fill her lungs with fresh oxygen.

As her breathing regulated, her arms swept automatically about her in their daily wake-up ritual, searching first for a Tic Tac to battle morning breath and secondly for her cellphone. She found the phone quickly enough once her eyes adjusted to the light and peered at it longingly. It was top-of-the-line and almost impossible to use, thanks to its numerous features. Jan loved the phone despite its complexities. It was cute and impossible, her favorite combination.

Her shoulders slumped when she did not see a single missed call, text message or voicemail alert flashing at her from the phone's cover.

Figures!

She sighed, feeling more abandoned and alone than before.

Curious how long she had been on vacation from reality, Jan pressed the side button on the phone, causing the backlight to illuminate the outside display. Relief flooded through her as she read "Sunday" in tiny black letters on the screen. Her next massage therapy class wasn't until Monday afternoon. Even though the quarter had just started, she had already missed all the classes she was allowed to without failing automatically.

Wait a minute, she thought. "I've been lying here for two freaking days," she exclaimed with a healthy mixture of surprise and disgust. She tossed the phone back onto the nightstand where it hit with a loud clunk and slid unnoticed to the floor. Jan hurriedly attempted to vault out of bed. Unfortunately, she had wrapped her designer sheets so tightly around her that as she flung herself toward the bathroom, her foot caught in the bedding and she nosedived into the carpet.

She hit with a loud thud and a squeak of surprise. Pain exploded in her nostrils as blood trickled out. Tears welled up in her eyes. Using her anger to fight a desire to give up on life, Jan rolled over onto her back and pinched her nose with her right hand to stop the flow of blood. Her left hand yanked at the sheets trapping her foot.

She finally managed to extricate herself and walk unsteadily into the adjoining bathroom, her formerly pointy nose in the air. She flipped on the switch to the vanity lights above the bathroom mirror and squeaked in horror when she saw her bloody, tear-streaked reflection.

"Oh my god," she exclaimed, her free hand flying up to pull the tissue out of her hair. The wad revealed a knot the size of a tennis ball behind it. Jan whimpered. She slowly took her hand away from her nose, hoping to get a better look at her damaged face. When blood did not immediately gush out, she took her fingertip and traced the temporary scars her pillow had left on her cheek.

Okay, so this is the worst I've looked since that time I was "accidentally" hit in the face with a tennis racquet, she thought, but it's not like anyone's seen me—yet. Eek.