What's home, if not the first place you run away from? What's love, if not that unexplainable, blazing feeling which comes after a period of hate?
Reputable for her catchy appearance, her over-niceness, her obsession with cartoon animations and her...
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James Arthur ft. Anne-Marie - Rewrite The Stars.
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OVER THE MONTHS THAT ROLLED through as slowly as raw, dripping honey, I've not been a very happy man.
Three hundred and eighty-one days if I'm being extremely specific like I was to the girl who infested me; the girl who made me scribble x's with my 'ugly' handwriting on the calendars at my house, the hotels I lodged in intermittently and the various offices I stayed in, every single day, with a red marker as I counted down each excruciating day I'd spent without knowing where she was.
I went around the continent doing stupid things I didn't even think twice about, just due to the mere memories of her.
Stupid things like buying that hotel at California in which we stayed in for two weeks, buying that Cafe with recipe for the nuggets and vanilla shakes she loves so much, sending her money whenever I thought of her, getting crazy tattoos of things related to her, liking all her pictures on social media...fuck, I even got a poodle, just because I remembered her babbling something about wanting one but not having enough time to take care of it during one of our Three Questions games.
One thing I didn't do though, no matter how pissed at either her or myself I got, was spar with someone. By the way, I had other things-two motherfuckers to be exact-to take out the frustration of her absence on. Yes, they're still alive; albeit barely.
I looked everywhere. I searched everywhere. I did everything I could to find Alaina. Each of my attempts were futile...until a certain Thursday.
I became a very happy man few weeks ago - an ecstatic man, rather - when Ingrid blurted Alaina's location off to me over a phone call in a fit of rage as to why I kept ignoring her despite that "quack doctor" abandoning me.
Hope some random earthquake happens wherever the fuck she's at in Colorado, so that she never comes back to you. Were her exact words.
I ended the call, ended the meeting I was in and called Tod immediately; I didn't even have enough time to inform Jason—or anyone else for that matter—of my discoveries...well, except Iris, because I knew I'd need her help.
When I got to Colorado, it didn't take long for her to find Alaina.
The first time I saw her again was on her way back from work one cloudy afternoon. She was fucking beautiful in that pale-white, tailored suit, surrounded by that aura of confidence which could only be found around fulfilled women.
She looked happy, and way better than I remembered; sexier, hotter...all mine.
It was a literal struggle to not pull her into an alleyway and mess up her professional countenance.
Self-control won that day - I just followed her discreetly to her house - and the day after that, and the day after that, because I just watched her, waiting for the perfect time to reveal myself to her and teach her a lesson or two.
