She’s feet away from the front door, and she’s seconds away from walking out of my life. “Please,” I plead. “I would never judge you. You can talk to me. You need to talk to someone about what just happened.”

She spins around so quickly her hair nearly whips me in the face with the force. “So you can psychoanalyze me? Or try and fix me? No thank you. I’m broken, and no amount of talking will ever fix that.”

“You don’t know that. Just trust me,” I press, taking a step toward her.

“No,” she barks, lowering her eyes. “I can’t. I can never see you again, Dixon. I’m sorry, I never should have let it get this far.”

Her words leave me winded, but I try my best to be levelheaded and understanding. “Hey, I was right there with you,” I state, her words making no sense. “You certainly didn’t feel sorry when you kissed me back.”

“It was a mistake,” she harshly rebukes, and I flinch.

I know she’s scared and probably confused, but I’ll be damned if she downplays what just happened in my room.

“You and I both know that’s not true,” I retort with a heated chuckle.

“I…I have a boyfriend,” she pathetically states, clutching at straws, but I see red.

How dare she bring him into this, because using him as an excuse to hide behind is just cowardly.

“Well, it wasn’t your boyfriend’s hands all over your willing body five minutes ago, was it?” I challenge with a bite to my tone.

“You bastard,” she spits, narrowing her eyes. “This should have never happened.”

“Well, too bad, it has happened, now deal with the consequences.”

“No, I take it back,” she stubbornly counters, and her bullshit denial infuriates me further.

“I told you,” I say, stepping forward and caging her body with mine as I place both hands against the door behind her. “You can’t take it back.”

“It was a m-mistake,” she stutters, her green eyes fearful, her back pressing further into the door.

“So you call what we just did a mistake?” I question, and she unconvincingly nods.

“You and I, we would never work. It was fun, but we’re both very different people. We want different things,” she says, her words cutting deep as they mirror Lily’s parting speech.

“Fun? It was more than just fun and you know it. Grow up and talk to me like an adult,” I say. A touch harsh, but I need her to be honest and tell me what’s really going on.

But she’s so damn pigheaded. “So you think I’m a child?” she counters, the hurt reflected on her face.

“As of right now, yes, you’re behaving like a child,” I reply. I don’t understand her actions. This isn’t the Madison I know. But maybe I don’t know the real Madison after all.

“Well, this child wishes to leave.” Her final words are my undoing. “Like I said, this was a mistake.”

I open my mouth to protest, but shut it quickly when she cruelly adds, “You are a mistake.”

I take a moment to process what’s just been said, and although I know she’s lying, I refuse to continue this conversation if she won’t meet me halfway. “That’s bullshit and you know it. The only mistake here is me letting you leave.”

I push off the door and step back, my breath leaving me in labored breaths ’cause I’m so pissed off.

If she wants to leave, I’m not going to force her to stay, but once she’s gone, she’s gone. I don’t give second chances, and I sure as hell don’t give them to someone who thinks I’m a mistake.

“Goodbye, Madison,” I say, turning my back on her because I can’t bear to watch her turn her back on me.

“Dixon,” she replies with a sigh, but I don’t turn around. I simply look around my apartment, wondering when this turned to shit.

“For what it’s worth, it’s not you, it’s me.”

“Just leave,” I say, not interested in hearing her excuses. Not interested in fighting for someone who doesn’t want to be fought for.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” And with those parting words, Madison closes the door on what could have been, but never will.

Act III

One month later…

24

Back to the Beginning

DIXON

Bob.

Bob.

Breathe.

Bob.

Bob.

Gag.

I like getting my dick sucked as much as the next guy, but when it’s my fourth blowjob of the week, and I have no idea who each giver is, each suck and lick all tangle into one.

Looking at my smudged reflection in the bathroom mirror, I despise what I see.

Over a month ago, I allowed the only girl I’ve liked in a very long time to walk away from me because she hurt my damn feelings. What a soft cock. But that’s the problem. My not-so-soft cock got me into trouble in the first place, and now I’m back screwing endless women, not giving a damn who or when or why.

My lackluster release comes spilling out of my uninterested dick, and the random brunette at my feet takes it all without missing a drop. My orgasm is the same as the one I had this morning, pointless and hollow. But a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, and I gotta do every woman in Manhattan because I can’t have the one I want.

Wiping her red painted lips, the chick whose name I’ve already forgotten looks up at me from under her fake lashes. “My turn,” she purrs and stands, boosting herself up on the basin, spreading her legs out wide.

Her short skirt bunches up around her waist and I can see she’s not wearing underwear. Her smooth entrance is slick and glossy, and where most men would be on their knees in a second, pleasuring this wannabe model, I simply rearrange myself and zip up my fly.

“Maybe next time, sweetheart.” I’m lying through my teeth.

“What?” she gasps, incredulous that I would leave her high and dry. “You’re not going to return the favor?”

When I merely shrug, bored by her melodramatics, she yells, “You pig!”

“Well, that’s what happens when you blow a stranger in a public bathroom,” I say, adjusting my cufflinks.

“You said I was beautiful!” she shouts, her eyes filling with tears.

“You are.” I reach forward and pull her dress down, as her cooch is giving me the stink eye. “It’s just too bad beauty only gets you so far in this world.”

“Huh?” she replies, scrunching up her nose job.

“When you’re older, you’ll understand beauty is only skin deep. But all this—” I flick my hand at her materialistic getup “—gets you fucked, and not in a good way, by bastards like me.” I unlock the bathroom door, avoiding the glares of irritated females who are in desperate need to use the restroom.

Making my way back to our table, Finch and Hunter take one look at me and roll their eyes.

“Again?”Finch asks, raising his eyebrows.

I casually shrug, stealing Harper’s beer. “What can I say?”

“You can say you’re a dirty man-whore,” Hunter pipes up in disgust. “You can keep that,” he adds, pointing to his beer. “I have no idea where your mouth has been.”

“Not listening,” I reply, flipping him off.

“Dix, we’re worried,” Finch says, and I can’t help but compare his comment to the one he made all those months ago.

Same bar. Same night. Same issue. Although this time, it feels a million times worse.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” I reply. “I’m fine. Life is peachy. I’ll be leaving for Boston tomorrow, and I plan on knocking the socks off all of those bigwigs and making myself known.”