MAYBE I WAS A FOOL
ISABELLA
I laid in bed for an hour after he left, staring at the ceiling and trying to convince myself I wasn't waiting for him to come back.
He didn't.
The clock on my nightstand read 3:47 AM when I finally stopped holding my breath. I pressed my palms against my eyes and tried to ignore the heat still lingering between my thighs.
I finally had a taste of how he could make me feel and I knew it wasn't going to stop at that.
How delusional I was.
The days that followed were like I never existed. He was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. I barely saw him and when I did and tried to get him to look at me, it was like I was a pest.
I told myself it was work, that he was busy and he wasn't the kind of man who used a woman and disappeared. But that little thing
