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Authors: Katherine Deane
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eat, and go back to bed. But what could I eat? Scrambled eggs meant cracking shells, stirring, pouring, and cooking then dishes to clean later. Bacon meant opening a package, placing on a plate, wrapping with paper towel—did I even have paper towels? Water? I blew out a tired breath. Even breathing hurt. Water was out of the question. Turning on the tap, getting a glass, filling it, not dropping the glass, because my hands felt too shaky, and watching it shatter into a million pieces with a loud crash— a million pieces, just like my heart felt now.
Food was out of the question. There was too much work involved. I felt around on the side table and grabbed the phone. I should call Jody. Ugh. Did I want to hear the compassion in her voice? My fingers were tired, too. I would have to push four buttons to get her called. Wait, five. Speaker phone, because I didn’t feel like holding the phone up.
I really was a mess. No wonder Derek left me. I wasn’t worth shit for anyone. And now that I knew exactly where the pity fucks and kindness were coming from—Dane would do anything to save his Uncle’s station? Even screw a fatty? No, it was hump. Hump a fatty .
I was just a pathetic, stupid, exceptionally naive woman. Stupid enough to believe someone could actually accept me. And, yep, I was proving them wrong right now, wasn’t I? Jeesh. Well, I wasn’t going to wallow around in bed feeling sorry for myself. I was going to get up and make a list of tasks for the day, including dropping out of the contest—I didn’t want to see that man anymore. I was going to do it. Get up, be strong, tell everyone to screw off. Eat something, but God knew what.
But, first, just a little nap. I wasn’t ready to start my day. My phone said it was 11:43 a.m., and I had missed a whole screen load of texts and calls from Dane.
Of course he would check on me. He was my partner, and he needed me to be in my best shape and ready to dance, right?
Then again, I had never felt as beautiful as I did in his arms. For the first time, I didn’t feel judged. I felt appreciated, and empowered. But how much of this was true emotion, and how much was an illusion for a desperate woman? Could I trust Dane? Would he still want me after the show was over, or was I a means to an end? My heart wanted me to curl up on his big, strong lap and cry over hurt feelings and betrayal and an ache to trust someone again. But my head screamed—flashing red emergency signs. Danger. Stop. Do not go any farther! How do you choose between things like that? I couldn’t. So I planned a course of action I knew I could accomplish.
A little nap. I could dream about being wanted and pretty, and I don’t know…anything but me.
I closed my eyes and held my silent phone against my chest. Sleep. That’s all I was asking for.
Sleep.
Chapter Seven
I had the weirdest dreams. Somewhere between finding a magical genie who not only granted all my wishes—even wishing for more wishes—I had the most amazing sex, ate huge french fries that kept getting larger until they were as big as a house. And every time I got bigger, the genie whose face I never actually saw, always remained bigger than me. By the end of my dream, I was ballroom dancing around houses, while heel-toe stomping on matchbox-sized cars that looked like Dane’s Mustang. I have a weird imagination. I had just laid back against the roof of my old house, waiting for Mr. Sexy Genie to kiss me again. He gently scraped the edges of a folded dollar bill up and down my body. He played with my nipples and sucked them between his teeth while we listened to salsa music blaring from my vagina. Every time I opened my legs…“Pantera Mambo” and “El Preso.” Like I said, crazy dreams. But I was sleeping, so all was good.
My genie whispered into my ear. “It’s time to wake up.”
“No, I don’t want to wake up.”
“You need to wake up.” A little louder this time.
I groaned and swatted at the large
Food was out of the question. There was too much work involved. I felt around on the side table and grabbed the phone. I should call Jody. Ugh. Did I want to hear the compassion in her voice? My fingers were tired, too. I would have to push four buttons to get her called. Wait, five. Speaker phone, because I didn’t feel like holding the phone up.
I really was a mess. No wonder Derek left me. I wasn’t worth shit for anyone. And now that I knew exactly where the pity fucks and kindness were coming from—Dane would do anything to save his Uncle’s station? Even screw a fatty? No, it was hump. Hump a fatty .
I was just a pathetic, stupid, exceptionally naive woman. Stupid enough to believe someone could actually accept me. And, yep, I was proving them wrong right now, wasn’t I? Jeesh. Well, I wasn’t going to wallow around in bed feeling sorry for myself. I was going to get up and make a list of tasks for the day, including dropping out of the contest—I didn’t want to see that man anymore. I was going to do it. Get up, be strong, tell everyone to screw off. Eat something, but God knew what.
But, first, just a little nap. I wasn’t ready to start my day. My phone said it was 11:43 a.m., and I had missed a whole screen load of texts and calls from Dane.
Of course he would check on me. He was my partner, and he needed me to be in my best shape and ready to dance, right?
Then again, I had never felt as beautiful as I did in his arms. For the first time, I didn’t feel judged. I felt appreciated, and empowered. But how much of this was true emotion, and how much was an illusion for a desperate woman? Could I trust Dane? Would he still want me after the show was over, or was I a means to an end? My heart wanted me to curl up on his big, strong lap and cry over hurt feelings and betrayal and an ache to trust someone again. But my head screamed—flashing red emergency signs. Danger. Stop. Do not go any farther! How do you choose between things like that? I couldn’t. So I planned a course of action I knew I could accomplish.
A little nap. I could dream about being wanted and pretty, and I don’t know…anything but me.
I closed my eyes and held my silent phone against my chest. Sleep. That’s all I was asking for.
Sleep.
Chapter Seven
I had the weirdest dreams. Somewhere between finding a magical genie who not only granted all my wishes—even wishing for more wishes—I had the most amazing sex, ate huge french fries that kept getting larger until they were as big as a house. And every time I got bigger, the genie whose face I never actually saw, always remained bigger than me. By the end of my dream, I was ballroom dancing around houses, while heel-toe stomping on matchbox-sized cars that looked like Dane’s Mustang. I have a weird imagination. I had just laid back against the roof of my old house, waiting for Mr. Sexy Genie to kiss me again. He gently scraped the edges of a folded dollar bill up and down my body. He played with my nipples and sucked them between his teeth while we listened to salsa music blaring from my vagina. Every time I opened my legs…“Pantera Mambo” and “El Preso.” Like I said, crazy dreams. But I was sleeping, so all was good.
My genie whispered into my ear. “It’s time to wake up.”
“No, I don’t want to wake up.”
“You need to wake up.” A little louder this time.
I groaned and swatted at the large
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