“Hey, babe!” Roman calls out from the bedroom. “Did you order that pizza?”

Fucking douche.

“Yes, I did. And I’m leaving. I have to go to work.”

“One of these days!” He calls out. “I’m telling you. One of these days you’ll have to give it up on me. Thanks for buying the pizza.”

           I don’t know what the fuck I am doing! I can easily go win Noah back, but I sit in this piece of shit apartment while dating a guy who I refuse to sleep with. And I’m only dating him until I get my money and buy a house. I’m using the hell out of this asshole, but he’s getting something in return. I lied and said I was a virgin, so I don’t fuck him. But he’s not a bad guy, so I give him head and hand jobs. But still! I’m disgusted with myself.

I chose to leave Noah six months ago. I chose to move one town over and change my name to Melinda Lee. The most random fucking name. But it’s working and he hasn’t found me. He’s probably not even looking for me. Although I will say he’s in love with me and Stacey… here I am six months later still thinking about him like it was yesterday.

“Come give me a kiss, sexy.” Roman calls out again.

I close the door behind me and quickly leave. In the beginning, it was fine. He was nice and he was attractive. His blue eyes and bleached blonde hair accent his strong jaw and impeccable body. But now he’s showing his true colors all because I won't give him my pussy. Which, in my eyes, is fucked up. I’m not willing to let his dick inside me but I’ll put it in my mouth. And I’ve never cared for giving head. Why now?

I scoff as I reach the end of the shitty apartment complex. I know why I’m not willing to let him inside of me. I still feel like Noah Adams owns me.

I walk out into the beautiful sunshine-filled day. A tear trickles down my cheek. I fucking miss that man so much and I’m pretty comfortable in saying I cry at least three times a week. But I had to give him up. The theory is that if you truly love something, let it go. If it comes back, then it was meant to be. It’s been six months and…oh yeah! He doesn’t know where to find me.

I step into the beat-up old two-door car I bought for five hundred dollars. It hardly runs, but it gets me back and forth to my shitty small-town job.

“Hey!” Roman calls out from the front of the apartment. “Pizza? Kiss? Love? Maybe a fuck?”

I want to run away.

“I’m on it,” I say, refusing to look at him while wiping a tear from my eye and struggling to remove the painful knot in my throat. I fucking hate my life.

I start the car, drive off, and look at the rearview mirror, wishing this was the last time I ever saw his face or that shitty-ass apartment.

“It’s only temporary, Harper,” I say, wanting to bawl my eyes out. “It’s only fucking temporary.”

I pull into the old, beat-up gas station. Many might think it’s the last place anyone would want to get gas, but oddly enough, it’s the safest place to be in this tiny town.

I lean my forehead on the peeling steering wheel, knowing I have eight dollars and seventy-two cents to last me until Friday, and the gas alone is three-thirty a gallon.

“I’m working my ass off!” I cry and slam my hand against the steering wheel. “Where the fuck is all of my money going to?”

I know where it’s going. Everything seems to be triple the cost while living with Roman. And I swear he’s dipping into my bank account. But I don’t know how he’s doing it. He doesn’t have my information, and I’m watching it like a hawk. Okay, I’m not watching it like a hawk. I’ve been too busy even to sit down, let alone take the time to review it.

I exhale a saddened breath, the slight groan whimper following behind that breath. I prepay and click the handle.

“Harper?” I hear a familiar voice question from behind me.

My body stiffens, my heart drops, and I swallow. I slowly turn around. “Loryn?” I say softly and break down in tears.

She quickly rushes up, wrapping her arms around me. “What the fuck, girl! What are you doing in Mable Park? Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you? I have so many fucking questions.”

“I ran away for a reason.” I cry even harder into her shoulder. “I couldn’t…I couldn’t…I’m so glad to see you.”

           “You could have come home.” She cries into my ear. “I’ve missed you so fucking much. And I’ve been battered and beaten by Noah’s constant daily questions. That man is with Stacey. And it’s evident he cares for her. But he wants you. He wants you back in his life and he wants Stacey out of the picture.”

           I shake my head. “I don’t care. I love that man. But I know if we…”

           “Stop!” She commands. “I don’t know what you’re doing right now, but you’re not doing it. You’re coming with me. We are going home. And…”

           I shake my head. “I have to go to work and then back to my apartment to my boyfriend.”

           Her eyes wave with shock and confusion. “You have a boyfriend?”

           I nod. “Let’s go talk. I can call into that fucking piece of shit job today. I know a small restaurant where we can eat and…”

           “Or!” She interrupts. “You come to a bar and eat. A bar we both love.”

           “I’m not going back there,” I exclaim and shake my head. “I can’t.”

           “You can, Harper. And you’re going to. It’s…” She pauses and chuckles. “We’ve searched all over the united states for your ass. We looked in and out, had friends of Noah help us out, and you’re telling me you were one town over. A town that a person can walk to in twenty minutes. You were five fucking minutes away and we couldn’t find you?”

           I wipe away another tear. “You were looking for Harper Hastings.”

           “Yeah? So?” She interjects while raising an eyebrow. “What’s your point?”

           I smile. “I’m Melinda Lee. You never would have found me using my real name.”

           “Girl!” She slaps my shoulder playfully. “You…let’s go eat.”

           “Fine!” I say, growing excited. “But I’m not going to that bar. I know damn well if one person spots me, then Noah will show up and it’s over between us for a reason.”

           “We are going to that bar.” She argues as she analyzes my beat-up sedan. “And what the fuck are you driving?”

           “I’m not going to that bar,” I argue again. “And we are taking your vehicle.”

           “Fair enough.” She smiles and points at a brand new red two-door sports car.

           I scoff in disgust. “And I bet you’re making less money than I am.”

           “I’m still pissed at you.” She’s quick to say. “You left without saying goodbye and forced me to look for you for six months. And then you curl into a ball and cry the moment I find you? You should have come home. But enough for now. Let’s go talk.”