I stare at the wall in front of me.
I hate this. I hate feeling like this. All fucking week, I’ve been thinking about her and trying to work out why I don’t want to see anyone else.
What is it about this one particular girl that is so different from the rest of them?
If I were wired to be the boyfriend type of guy, I would know that already and I would fight for her.
I stand and stare out the window, looking down at the parking lot below.
Could I do it? Could I be a boyfriend kind of man?
A deep sense of dread fills me at the thought of letting her down. I remember the way I felt for those six weeks we were apart after the first time we met, and I can’t stand the thought of ever feeling like that again. Most, if not all people are wired to be with one person, but maybe I’m just not.
It’s best for everyone concerned if I let her go.
Tully
I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I don’t even recognise the person staring back at me now. The girl I used to be was structured and focused on pleasing everyone else but herself-to sticking to a game plan. The girl I see now wants to follow her heart, and if her heart wants to drag her to Hell with a man named Brock Marx, then so be it.
I’ve been soul searching all week, imagining a future with a man I don’t know versus a future with a man I know so well.
There’s no comparison between the two. One life is the one I choose, while the other is the one I feel obligated to live.
I just can’t live the lie anymore… and it hurts like hell to admit it even to myself.
I have to tell Brock. It’s like a poison that is festering inside me now and I won’t be able to relax until it’s off my chest. I have no idea how he will react, but I do know that I will feel better once he knows everything I’m feeling.
Then it’s up to him what happens with us, but I at least have to try.
I text Brock one last time, and I swear to God, my stalking is at an all-time high. This is my tenth call this week. I make him look sane.
TULLY: Please come over.
I’m going out of my mind not seeing you.
I pace back and forth, this sick feeling invading my stomach.
I know what man I want, there isn’t a doubt in my mind, and it isn’t Simon.
I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing. How can you, in all sensibility, throw away nearly ten years with someone after spending just two nights with another man?
Seventy-two hours.
Brock and I may not even be suited. He may not even want me?
I’ve hardly slept all week. I’ve called Simon twice hoping to feel that spark, praying that the stars will align and I will have this lightning bolt of electricity and clarity that will tell me exactly what to do.
But it’s just not there, and I hate to say it but I feel like I’m speaking to my big brother. I just want to tell him about this amazing guy I met in the gym.
I keep walking back and forth for over an hour, and at 9:30 p. m. I decide do what any self-respecting woman should do in this situation.
I’m going to drive past Brock’s house to see if he’s home, and I swear to God, if he’s on a fucking date, I’m losing my shit.
I drive past the gym and scope out the parking lot. No car. I continue driving until I get to his house where I see his car in the driveway.
He’s home.
What do I do now? I park across the road and turn off the car, sitting in the darkness, biting my thumbnail as I peer through the windshield.
I don’t smoke but if I ever were to start, I think this stakeout would be the cause of it. I feel like I need something to do with my hands or some shit.
What the fuck do I do?
Do I march in there?
I drop my hands to my face and rest my elbows on the steering wheel. For half an hour, I sit in the car and go through my options.
I can either get over this craziness, go back to Simon and forever dream of Brock, or I can march in there and demand a second chance.
Out of all the options, the last one seems like the right thing to do.
My phone beeps with a text.
BROCK: What are you doing?
I screw up face, is he going to come over to my house? I text back straight away.
TULLY: I’m waiting for you to come over.
Another text bounces back.
BROCK: I mean, what are you doing sitting outside my house?
I can see you.
I wince and cringe. Damn it, I’m the worst spy in history. I text back.
TULLY: I’m stalking you
What does it look like?
A reply bounces back.
BROCK: Why?
I stare at my phone in my hands. Why am I here?
TULLY: Because I need to see you.
I wait for his reply, but it doesn’t come. For ten minutes, I wait. Damn it, Brock.
Why does he have to be so fucking difficult all the time? My life was so damn simple before I met him.
Damn gym junkie and his magic dick.
Screw it, I’m just going to go in. I get out of my car, cross the street, and knock on the big timber door. My heart is hammering in my chest. I have no idea how he is going to react to what I have to say.
He opens the door in a rush and looks at me flatly. “Yes.”
I smile softly. “You’re not on a date?”
He rolls his eyes. “No, I’m not on a fucking date.”
I twist my fingers in front of me nervously, my eyes searching his. “Can I come in?”
He looks at me blankly. “Tully, I told you to go back to your boyfriend. We have nothing to say to each other.”
My face falls. “Don’t call me, Tully.”
He glares at me.
“You call me Pocket, remember?”
“What are you doing here? If you’re here to fuck with my head, don’t bother.”
I grab his hand. “I’m fucking with my own head, Brock. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore,” I whisper.
His jaw clenches as he watches me.
“I only know that I feel sick knowing that you don’t want to see me.”
His eyes drop to the floor. “Fuck’s sake,” he whispers, shaking his head. “You’re turning into the crazy person now. I thought that was my position in the company.”
I smile at his little joke. “We can take turns being the crazy person.”
He scratches the back of his head. “I’m not your back up plan, Tully.”
I nod. “I know.”
“And I don’t want to see you if you are going to go back to him.”
“Okay, Brock.” I pause as I try to get this right. “I’ve been thinking long and hard about this all week, you know?”
He crosses his arms and raises his brows.
“Don’t give me that look,” I plead. “Listen to what I’m saying, will you?”
He exhales heavily. “What are you saying, Tully? Do you even know?”
“I’m saying I want to see if we can be together.”
He clenches his jaw as he stares at me, his internal struggle clear to see in his eyes.
“Well?” I ask.
Still, he doesn’t answer me.
“What do you say, Brock? Can we try?”
“I don’t want you seeing him again,” he tells me coolly.
“Okay.” I smile softly. “I won’t see him again.”
He presses his lips together, still looking down on me.
“You said you don’t do relationships,” I whisper.
He doesn’t say anything.
I take his hand and press it to my cheek. “I’ve been frantic all week thinking you were going out with someone else.”
“Is that why you’re here? To see if I’m alone?” He sighs, annoyed.
I shake my head. “No.” I pause as I brace myself to say the next sentence. “I’m here because I think I have real feelings for you.”
He watches me.
I shrug. “And not the kind of feelings that you like receiving.”
His eyes search mine, and suddenly, as if he feels what’s between us too, he dusts his thumb over my bottom lip.
“Brock, I know you don’t do relationships.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because you told me yourself.”
He tilts his chin to the sky but lifts his other hand to my face. “What do you want, Tully?” he asks.
I frown because I can’t even believe I’m saying it. “Maybe we could see how we go together… without any kind of end date in mind. Just the two of us in, like, a real relationship.”
He stares at me for a moment.
“You’ll never know if you can have a girlfriend if you don’t try it one time?” I smile hopefully.
“I’m not having him waiting in the wings for me to fuck up.”
“What do you mean?” I frown.
“Just what I said. If you end it with him, we can see how it goes. If you are keeping him on ice then forget it.”
“I know.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m going to end it with him regardless of what happens here with you and me. I know if I have these feelings about you, it’s not right to stay with him.”