Part 25: Not Interested

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"Fuck," you muttered to yourself

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"Fuck," you muttered to yourself. An elderly lady next to you shot you a dirty look. You shrugged at her, "Sorry."

What the fuck did he want? You thought about ignoring it. Maybe he would get the hint if you didn't respond. But Jason was never good at hints. He was pretty thick.

Sure enough, he texted again: Just figured someone should hold on to the memories of our life together.

That manipulative son-of-bitch, you thought. Fuck his memories and fuck him.

You texted back: I would rather leave it all in the past. Don't text me again.

You slid your phone in your back pocket and thanked the lord when you reached your destination. You squeezed your way out of the tube and through the crowd when you felt your pocket buzz with another text.

"Jesus..." you mumbled angrily and snatched your phone to read it : I wonder if you left your whore ways in the past.

Your heart pounded hard in your ears as you read it. Your face felt like it was on fire. Same old Jason. Always with the name calling and berating and viciousness. You put up with his shit for over a decade. He was not going to reach all the way across the ocean and do this to you. Not now, not here. Not while you've actually started to pick up the pieces.

"Excuse me," someone said to you. You looked up from your phone and realized you were standing in the middle of the tube entrance, blocking people's way. A gentleman in grey suit and salt and pepper beard stood in front of you.

"You alright?" he asked with concerned look on his face.

Did you not look alright? You were never good at hiding your emotions, no matter how hard you tried. They tended to be displayed all over your face. You reached up and brushed a knuckle underneath each eye. That bastard actually made you cry.

You shook your head and tried to smile, "I'm fine. Sorry." and started down the street.

He caught up with you, "It's just that I would feel awful if a pretty lady like you was upset and I couldn't do anything to help," he said in an accent you couldn't quite place. Italian maybe?

"I'm fine. Really," you continued to walk. What's this guy's deal? And why is he in that suit? Camden Town is much more punk than posh.

"You say you're fine but you would probably be better with a cup of tea? Yes?" he gave you an unexpectedly handsome smile. His eyes crinkled when he did so. You had to give him an A for effort. You stopped walking.

"Look, I appreciate it but I'm not interested." you smiled at him to show you were fine and that he could be on his way now.

"Ok, ok, but at some point you are going to want a cup of tea sooo badly," he waved his hands when he said 'so badly', "So when you do, call me and I'll treat." He handed you a card.

"Prodital Leathers," you said, reading it.

"That's my company. We provide leather for Dr. Martens. I was just coming from their shop. My name's Giacomo," he said extending a hand.

You shook it, still wary.

"Y/N," you replied, "I'm actually heading to do a bit of shoe shopping, so..." He didn't need any more of a hint than that. He stepped back and buttoned his suit jacket and nodded. He was quite debonair, you had to admit.

"See you around," you smiled, genuinely this time.

"I certainly hope so," he bowed his head.

You continued your way to the shops, looking at his card, then shook your head and placed it in your pocket. Not interested, you thought. But why not? It's not like you and Tom were exclusive. You weren't even anything, were you? At the most, lovers maybe? But lovers does not equate to a relationship. Has anyone ever introduced themselves as someone's lover? This is Tom, my lover. And what did he see you as? You had no clue there, and frankly, you were terrified to even broach that subject.

You reached Irregular Choice. Your phone buzzed twice. Fuck off, Jason, you thought. You decided to ignore it. You were surrounded by the most heavenly shoes and that asshole could just go to hell.

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