Page 17 of His Good Girl
Serena
Walking out of the building at 4.30 PM, deciding that since Logan fucked off early, I would as well; I felt oddly disappointed that he wasn’t there when I arrived back at my desk. My lunch with Rue was amazing, though, and I think I’ve found my new bestie. She went to the same school as me, but four years ahead, and also dropped out of college after deciding studying wasn’t for her any longer. It’s a kinship that I feel deep down. Pretty sure she does, too, because she offered to exchange numbers for out-of-work chatting.
Crossing over the busy street in my white running shoes, alone with my thoughts, I stop dead suddenly, my heart racing and my lungs squeezing tight.
The panic attack from this morning is closing in, even though I’m out in the open. Placing one hand on my chest and the other on a building, I lean closer to it for support. Shaking my head to clear the reason why this is happeningnow, I swallow and focus on my breathing.
I don’t do enclosed spaces.
This is why I panicked in the elevator this morning, and this is a delayed reaction to John Jeffers blocking me in the kitchen earlier. I was too focused on Rue and the tea and Logan, and with the root cause buried as far down in my soul as I could get it, it’s suddenly popped up even though I’m outside.
“Fuck,” I gasp, going lightheaded, but then I feel my lungs ease slightly, and I calm down, taking a gulp of air, ignoring the looks people are giving me. I’m glad no one has stopped to help me. It’s one of the reasons why I love the city. No one gives a shit. They’re too bothered about their time, their business, their demons.
Having said that, I feel eyes on me and look up, but I don’t see anyone offering their useless help, so I push off from the building and stumble through the pedestrians, gripping the handle of my bag tightly as a lifeline.
I haven’t thought about that day for a while—months, maybe even a year. I’ve never spoken about it, and nor will I. But having John that close to me, blocking my escape route, has unearthed the terror I felt as a thirteen-year-old girl who was molested by one of her school teachers.
He didn’t rape me, but his fingers went everywhere. I had no idea what was going on. I just stood there and let it happen, scared and alone. I have no doubt it would’ve gone further if he hadn’t been interrupted by the janitor. Telling no one, I ran from that room and buried it deep down, the shame of facing him every day for the rest of the year weighing on me so severely, I withdrew. Years passed, and I started to forget and became myself again, but very caged when it came to sex. I’ve had one sexual partner, and it was a man I’d been seeing for a while. Giving myself to him was the right thing to do, and I don’t regret it, but I haven’t found another man that is willing to wait the time it takes for me to be comfortable.
Almost as if he knew I was thinking about this, my phone rings, and I grab it, checking the screen to see that it is Paul. I dumped the guy two weeks ago when he decided he’d waited long enough to dip his wick and found someone who wasn’t me, who was willing. Granted, we’d only be seeing each other for two weeks anyway, but still. That’s not enough time for me.
“What do you want?” I ask, answering it as a distraction from the darkness that is closing in. Needing the focus to shift, needing the conversation to forget and rebury my past where it belongs.
“Don’t hang up!” he exclaims, sounding almost shocked that I answered.
“I’m not hanging up. I told you, I’m not pissed with you. We barely know each other, and we weren’t exclusive. I just don’t want to be with you if you aren’t willing to wait for me. It’s not an unusual concept, and nor is it unreasonable.”
“No, I know, and I’m so sorry.”
“You keep apologizing, but if you felt so bad about it, why do it in the first place?”
“Because I’m weak and pathetic.”
Blinking and huffing out a breath, picking up my pace a bit now that the attack has receded, I look over my shoulder, still feeling a bit creeped out. Is Paul watching me? Is he going to appear next to me suddenly?
“Look, I get that you feel bad, and thanks for that. But really, we’re good.”
“But I want you back. I lost you too soon, I feel. We had something fun. We get on. You’re not like other girls.”
Rolling my eyes at the lamest line ever, I bite out, “Why? Because I don’t jump into bed with everyone who asks?”
“Well, yeah,” he replies immediately as if I’m being dense for asking.
“If that’s what you think, you are dating the wrong women, Paul. Find a nice girl and wait for her to be ready. But that girl isn’t me. I’ll see you around.”
“Serena, wait—”
Hanging up, not needing to speak to him anymore, I drop my phone back in my bag and keep walking as fast as my battered lungs will let me. When I get home, I need a cold glass of wine, my bed, and some movies. This day has been…strange.
And not in a good way.
Well, except for Rue. She’s cool, but Logan is an asshole, John is a creep, and Paul is a jerk.
Forty minutes later, I’m shoving open the door to my apartment, relieved and grateful for my personal space. Locking the door behind me, bolt and chain in place, I drop my bag and toe off my shoes.
Shuddering in the cool apartment, I flick on the heating and then break down in the middle of the sitting room, dropping to my knees as the past catches up with me, ripping its way through my soul, breaking me that bit more. Sobbing until my ribs hurt, I curl up on the floor and stare at the same spot on the wall, not wanting to close my eyes, fearful of what I might see.
Chapter12
