Until she wanted to get cozy with me.
I usually end these things in a much nicer way, but trust me, it’s crueler to let her leave here thinking I’m going to call her again when I’m not.
I’m always honest, if nothing else.
Reaching behind me I take hold of her hands. Pulling her free from around my waist, I squeeze her hands, then let go.
I step back from her. “Look, Shawna, it’s been great an’ all … but I’d say we’re done here.”
She pauses. Frowns. Then gets this crazy look in her eyes that some chicks get when they realize you’re ending things with them.
The stage five clinger look.
“Done?” Her voice has gone screechy.
Fuck.
I really didn’t have her pegged as stage five clinger material when I met her. Guess I got that plenty f**king wrong.
I could really do without a crazy chick moment right now.
Here we go…
“Shawna…” I rub my forehead, and drive my fingers into my hair, pushing it back. “We both knew what this was from the beginning. I was clear on that. It was never gonna last longer than a few weeks, and we’re already well past that.”
“It’s been a week, Jordan.”
Fuck, is that all? Feels way longer. Definitely time to get rid of her.
“Look…” I put on my best ‘sensitive, but I’m still ditching your ass’ voice. “It’s been fun, Shawna. You’re fun. But it’s time to move on.”
With a look straight from the devil, she grabs her clothes from the floor and starts yanking them on.
“Fun? FUN!” Her screeching is actually hurting my ears. “I thought we had something really great here! I thought you really liked me!”
See what I mean?
Never.
Fucking.
Listen.
“When did I say that? Oh yeah, never. I thought you were hot, and I definitely wanted to have sex with you – multiple times. But feelings never came into it. Not once. And no f**kin’ way do I want a relationship.”
Ouch. That was probably a bit harsh.
She steps close and pokes me in the chest with her fingernail.
Fuck, that hurt. Her nails are sharp. They felt good when they were raking down my back, but now, not so much.
“You’re a f**king bastard!” she yells in my face. “And you’re going to spend your whole life lonely and miserable!”
Wow, so original – like I haven’t heard that line before. Why do all women say that exact same thing when you’re blowing them off?
Trust me, I’m not miserable. Far from it.
Seeing what my dad’s gone through … loving Mom, then having to watch her die … seeing how my dad is now … an empty shell of the man he was…
That’s misery.
I’m never putting myself through that. I’ll stay as I am, thanks.
When it comes to women, I put my dick in and keep my heart out. It’s the easiest way.
I lean down, close to her face. “Shawna, you knew from the beginning I wasn’t in for anything more than a f**k, so don’t act all shocked and shit on now. You knew exactly who you were getting into bed with.”
Why do all women think they can change me? I’m unchangeable. When will they get this?
“Fuck you!” she screams. She actually screams at me.
Jesus Christ, I cannot stand dramatic women. Nothing turns me off quicker … well, apart from cuddling.
“Isn’t that the point?” I smirk, stepping back. “You want to f**k, and I don’t.” I sweep my arm out in the direction of the door. “Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out, sweetheart.”
I’m not usually this much of a dick, but honestly, she’s getting on my last f**king nerve.
Shawna looks as if she’s ready to pummel me to death. Bending down, she grabs her heels, shoves her feet in them, and grabs her purse from the nightstand.
“You’re going to regret this,” she hisses.
“Not likely.”
“Asshole!” She pushes her way past me, and stomps out the room, slamming the door behind her.
I hear her heels clattering down the hall, then the main door slams shut. A minute later, her car engines revs loudly, and spinning tires kick up against the gravel.
Well, that went well.
I run my hands through my hair, then go and grab some clean sheets from the linen closet.
I strip the bed and have it remade in two minutes flat.
Can you tell this isn’t my first rodeo?
I have sex in the hotel rooms because I don’t like to share my bed. I want to go to sleep without the scent of sex lingering from the last girl I hooked up with. And for some reason, the girls I hook up with seem to think it’s romantic to have sex in a hotel room.
Couldn’t be less so in my opinion.
But they think that, so it works well for me. This is when living at a hotel comes in handy.
I bundle the dirty sheets up in my arms to take to the laundry room.
Guess it’s time to find a new f**k buddy. First things first, though. Shower, then food.
I’m starving.
***
I’m just biting into my sandwich when the phone rings. Putting it back down on the plate, I grab the phone off the wall, quickly chewing and swallowing down my bite. God, that’s good. I make a great f**king sandwich.
“Golden Oaks,” I say, cleaning sandwich off my teeth with my tongue.
“Jordan, it’s Beth.”