Page 73 of Duke

Picking up my phone, I bite my lip. It’s been two weeks.

Two weeks since Spence walked and six weeks since I saw my dream lover in person.

Duke.

It’s seven am.

I know he’s up. Meat let it slip that Duke hardly sleeps, opening his shop early. With shaky fingers that hover over his name but chickened out a thousand times before—I press call. With sweaty palms, I listen to the ring in my ear.

After two, he sends me to voicemail.

Motherfucker.

So much for being his one-true-love.

Anger giving me courage, I call again.

Instant voicemail.

I text:

Can we talk?

No response.

My anger propels me out of bed and into the shower, where I can rinse away the slickness of my desire for a man that right now, is ignoring my very existence on this earth.

Fuck, he’s a rollercoaster ride. And I love it. I’m drunk on the push and pull. I can’t shake him, and it pisses me the hell off.

I text him again after wrapping a towel around.

Me: I hate you.

Duke: Good.

I hurl my phone across the open door where it lands on my bed. In a temper, I half-ass dry my hair and get dressed. My final semester started last week. I just need to survive until graduation day. Then I can get the hell out of here and start my new life.

Straightening my shoulders, I catch my eye in the mirror.I’m Shanna fucking Flynn; a girl who needs nobody. I can take care of myself just like I always have.

Opening my desk drawer, taking my flathead screwdriver out, I pop a floor board by my window. My hand reaches down to the row of coffee cans hidden underneath.

Opening them, I re-count the bills held in rubber bands.

Twenty grand.

Twenty grand in tip money that I’ve saved since Pops let me bus tables when I was a kid to now when I manage the goddamn place.

Freedom. I can taste it just as much as I still feel him.

Damn the man to hell and back.

Blowing back a lock of hair falling on my face, I carefully place the board back in place.

Pops has kept me under his thumb for so long—I can’t take the chance that at the last minute he might freak and try to stop me from leaving. Keeping this money hidden is the only secret I’ve ever kept.

Gathering up my laptop and keys, I let the front door slam behind me with a bang. I don’t need to talk to Pops. He gets my message loud and clear. One heart-to-heart can’t erase years of lies.

Whatever snow was on the road has turned to slush. The gray sky meets the gray street as I make the drive South to campus. I grabbed a coffee a few miles back, but even the hot liquid can’t melt the ice in my heart. I’m harder than I was before; if that’s even possible. I’m made up of more jagged edges than I was before. The one hard truth is: Everyone I’ve loved has let me down. I can’t take the silence of my thoughts anymore. Turning on the radio, I find a country station and sing along with. I feel somewhat happy for the rest of the drive; the music pulls me out of the gray and towards blue skies. For a moment. Until Kane Brown starts crooning, “What Ifs”to me, bringing my thoughts right back to him.

This song is us.

But he was a fool playing some game. I think. Why else does he touch me, then leave me?

Make me beg for his kiss only not to give it?

Tell me I’m it for him, then ride off and never come back?

Hurt tears spring from my eyes, and as I pull into campus it occurs to me with a laugh: I never shed one tear over the break-up with my first boyfriend. Instead, I cry for the man I never had.

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