5
Sasha
It’s finally Saturday and that can only mean one thing. Shopping!
I have my boring as hell weekday routine, but I also have my Saturday one.
Breakfast with Liv and Bella at Buttons and Books, a few hours shopping, and then I usually let Jesus take the wheel while I just tag along for the ride.
Whatever he has planned for the rest of the day is none of my business.
Right now though, I’m standing outside my favorite little boutique that sells the cutest shoes ever made. The familiar, rich leather scent envelopes me as I walk through the door.
I swear, these shoes must have been made in heaven, each one meticulously crafted by angels. They are the best heels I have ever walked in. So what if they cost most of my weekly paycheck? They’re worth it.
And yes, I know I have too many bills to pay and yes I know my credit card cries every time I tap it against the machine, but do I care? Nope. When it comes to a new pair of heels, financial responsibility simply doesn’t exist.
I take in all the different kinds of heels in the store, my eyes searching for the perfect pair.
They have every shoe in every color. Some are plain, some have designs.
There are stilettos, kitten heels, cone heels and…
Oh. My. Freaking. God. I make a beeline towards the most gorgeous pair of shoes I have ever seen.
Silver, crystal-covered stilettos sit in the center of the room and every rational thought leaves my body. These babies are to die for!
“Excuse me!”
A sales assistant glides over to me. She’s tall, toned and polished, with white blonde hair that falls to her ass.
Her smile is sickly sweet, the kind that comes with the uniform.
It’s not a genuine smile. It’s just for show given the fact that I watched her roll her eyes in the mirror before turning towards me.
“Do you have these in a seven and a half?”
She eyes me up and down, sizing me up with an almost disgusted look on her face.
Is this dress really ugly or something? Does it make me look extra bloated?
Oh Lord. “I’ll go check in the back.” She says in a patronizing kind of way before she saunters off, moving her hips in such a sexy way that I can’t help but watch her.
I bet she has all the guys falling for her. Too bad she seems like a bitch.
A few moments later, the woman comes out with a box and my whole face lights up.
She doesn't say anything as she holds it out to me while I thank her multiple times, sitting on the spongy pink stool and pulling out the most gorgeous heels I have ever had the pleasure of touching. They slip on my feet with ease and suddenly I’m having my very own Cinderella moment…
minus the prince. But who cares about that when I’m about to own these shoes?
There’s a high-pitched squeal of happiness happening inside my head right now.
I stand up from the stool and the heels instantly pinch my feet. It hurts in the best way because, as they say in French, Il faut souffrir pour être belle, which translates to ‘one must suffer to be beautiful’. It’s not the best way to look at things, but right now it works.
The sharp clicking of the heels against the marble floor is music to my ears as I glide around the store, testing them out. They feel amazing! Comfortable, elegant, sexy. Pure perfection in shoe form.
And when I stop in front of the mirror… Jesus. My legs look toned as fuck.
Reluctantly, I take the shoes off my feet, delicately setting them back into the box so I don’t hurt them, and then take them to the counter. I pull my card out of my purse as the bitchy woman rings them up through the till.
“That’ll be $500, please.”
What in the actual fuck? “Excuse me?”
“$500.” She says with a bored expression.
“I’m sorry but there must be some kind of mistake.”
“No, there’s not.”
“But they’re not even Prada!” Scratch what I said earlier, I cannot justify spending a month’s paycheck on shoes.
Dammit! If I had all the money in the world, I would definitely buy these shoes right here, right now, but I don’t.
I’d have to sell my left tit to afford these. “Never mind, then. Thanks anyway.”
I leave the store as fast as my non-sparkly, heeled clad feet take me. God, that was so embarrassing! This is why they need to display the prices. I should have known they were way out of my budget.
Let me tell you, when I become a big, bestselling author, you can bet your ass I’ll be back in, buying five pairs of those heels, just to show that woman and her stupid, smug face that I can afford them!
I need to go home. I physically cannot carry any more shopping bags.
I can only imagine how I look to other people right now.
I’m not a tall girl, five foot three or so, and you wouldn’t think it by looking at me, but I have muscle.
And let’s be realistic here, I only started the gym to gain more arm strength so that I could carry more shopping bags.
And look at me now, all my hard work is paying off.
I have successfully bought enough stuff to have forgotten about those shoes. Those sparkly, heaven in shoe form, leg toning, gorgeous shoes. I’m lying, obviously, but if I tell myself that I have forgotten about them, then I can bring myself to believe it. Maybe.
“Sash?” A deep, familiar voice says, pulling me out of my head. I don’t know why he looks surprised to see me here. I mean, we were together for long enough for him to know I come here every weekend.
“Hi, Max.” I use my friendly customer service voice I use at work but I’m sure it comes out as fake as the smile I’m sporting. “How are you?”
“I’m good. And you?”
“Can’t complain.” I inwardly cringe because I can most definitely complain about my life right now. This is so fucking awkward. We’re just standing here, staring at each other, not one of us saying a word.
He opens his mouth to speak again but then closes it. Another beat of silence passes before he clears his throat. “I, uh…”
Oh, come on! Either say something or walk away. It’s not that hard.
“I saw you got engaged.” I blurt out instead. “Congrats.”
Max clears his throat again, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. “Yeah, uh, thanks.” He runs a hand over his shaved head, something he always does when he’s flustered. “And you, are you, uh, seeing anyone?”
Shit, shit, shit.
I have to lie, right? I need to save face. Max doesn't need the satisfaction of knowing I'm sitting at home alone every night, pining for him.
“Actually,” The lie flies from my mouth before I’ve fully committed to it. “I am seeing someone.”
There’s a flicker of disappointment in his boring, grey eyes. I used to love his eyes but looking into them now, I can see how dull they really are.
“Oh.” Is his clipped reply and then we’re drowning in silence again. I want to leave this uncomfortable situation but I can't bring myself to move away from him. “Who is he?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I need to think of someone. Why the hell can I not think of anyone? Chill, woman! I mentally slap myself as I say the first name that pops into my head in a panicked voice, “Conor Matthews.”
“The hockey player?” He looks hurt and that feeling sinks into me. After everything this man has done to me, I still feel guilty for hurting him. And by doing what? ‘Seeing’ someone after we’ve split up?
“Yeah.” I say, quietly.
“You know,” He studies me for a second too long. “I always thought there was something going on between you two when we were together.”
“Why would you think that?” I ask him in an accusatory tone, my defenses rising. I have gone from zero to one hundred in about two seconds and if that doesn’t scream guilty, I don’t know what does.
“You always stared at him when you thought I wasn't looking. Plus, he flirted with you any chance he got.” All I can do is look at this man.
I don't deny it, even though nothing really happened.
“But then I saw him with another woman, the same way he was towards you and I knew I had nothing to worry about.”
The words sting more than they should. Conor and I are friends. Can we even be considered friends? We went out for dinner once. Although, I can't deny the small hint of disappointment that settles low in my gut at the truth to Max’s words.
I force another smile. “Well, that’s all in the past now. We’re together and we’re happy.”
Max just hums, seeming to think about that. “I haven't seen you two together.”
What do you mean?”
“In the sports news or anything. There’s always some girl hanging off his arm, but I’ve never seen you.”
The defensive walls are building tenfold now. Does he know I'm lying? Is he trying to catch me out? Did poor Max learn nothing in the whole time we were together? I am the most stubborn woman on this planet and I will do whatever is necessary to prove a point.
“Well, I wasn't really wanting to show off my new relationship. I didn't want to hurt you, in case you had seen it, you know?” I shrug with indifference. “We were together for so long, and I didn’t want you to think I threw our whole relationship away so soon.” I'm projecting my own feelings onto him but his impassive face shows me he doesn't give a shit about what he’s done to me.
“So I guess I’ll be seeing you both at Alex and Rose’s engagement party in a few weeks?” Shit! I had completely forgotten about that.
Max met Alex in college. Despite being the complete opposites of each other, they soon became best friends.
Max has always kept to himself. He rarely went out partying like a normal college kid and when he did, he just sat in the corner wishing he were somewhere else.
He studied hard, worked his ass off and got the job he always wanted as an accountant.
Don’t ask me why anyone would want to be an accountant, I could think of nothing worse.
Then again, I’m a receptionist so I can’t really judge.
Alex was very outgoing, always out partying. He didn’t seem to care much for his college degree yet still aced every aspect of it. He was the definition of a man-whore, promising to never settle down because “what a sad life that would be, being with one woman your whole life”.
For a while, I had blamed Max’s affair on Alex, but now I know that it was Max’s choice. It didn't matter if he was influenced or not, it was all on him.
Alex met his now fiancé a couple of years after college. I have no idea what Rose ever saw in him to be honest, but I guess that's what love does to you. Not necessarily changes you as a person but turns you into the person you were always supposed to be.
Rose is a lovely woman, kind and generous. She and I became really good friends, but since Max and I broke up, I haven’t heard from her. That was until I got an e-invite to their engagement party just over a month ago and I had rsvp’d saying Liv would be my plus one.
“You sure will.” I don’t know how I manage a smile but I do. I am spiraling inside. Why did I have to lie? Why couldn’t I have just buried my pride and said I hadn’t found anyone yet?
I need to talk to Conor. I just need to pray that he will go along with this.