Page 19 of Hurt Me Not
But now, I didn’t even have it in me to be angry at him.
Getting out of my car, I slammed the door shut a bit too hard, the sound echoing through the underground parking lot of my company.
I breathed in and out through my nose, trying to focus on the day ahead. Even ignoring my father, I was frustrated.
Because of Pearl.
It had been two days. No call. No text. Like a ghost constantly whispering in my ear, the loss of her haunted my memory.
I wouldn’t trade our night together for anything, but having her once, having had a taste, there was no way I could let her go. I was addicted and foaming at the mouth for another hit.
I restructured my whole life around her. I came to New York because of her. I wanted to give Pearl the life she deserved.
A life with someone who sees who she is and likes every part of her.
I just needed to give her time, but my patience was wearing thin, and each moment she wasn’t in my bed had me climbing up the walls.
It was making me anxious. Impatient.Angry.
I made my way toward the elevator, pressed the lobby button, and waited for it to arrive. The building was older, so we needed to take two elevators to get to our floor—one to funnel people to the lobby and the main one that went up to my company.
But then the doors opened, and I suddenly didn’t mind the two elevators or how impossibly slow they were.
Because my dream girl was sitting in the small waiting area.
There was one thing about Pearl that would never change.
She always manages to surprise me.
On the outside, she was a shy, weak girl. But I knew better. There was a part of her that was stuck inside, pushing against the bars of her cage, begging to be let out.
That girl was strong. She was confident. She wanted to be seen. Be heard. Beruined.
I blamed her parents. Even back then, I could tell that they never spent enough time with her. Or maybe they just plain didn't care.
It still made me angry every time I thought about it.
But I couldn't stew in it because Pearl washere.
Instead of calling, she looked me up and found out where I worked.
Wearing a cute, little pink dress that fell to her knees and her chestnut hair down, pushed back by a white headband that matched her white ballerina flats, with bangs popping out.
All around her, people were wearing appropriate work attire, some of the higher-ups even choosing to come in in suits. She looked completely out of place, and I loved it.
Pearl was never meant to be buried in the crowd. One of the things I hated in high school was how she would force herself into the shadows when she deserved the spotlight.
She was meant to stand out. Just like she was now.
She always did for me.
I quickly pushed down the satisfaction, put on my best poker face, and walked toward her. When she saw me, her hands clutched her small bag.
The nervousness was getting to her.
“Looks like there is some resourcefulness in you, Pearl Meadows.”
She glanced up through her lashes, and it took all my effort not to force her chin up so she could look at me properly.
