Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Harlow Fowler

POV

Its early Sunday morning when my phone rings waking me up. Sundays are the only time I can sleep in and someone is trying to steal that from me.

"What?" I hiss into the phone.

I rub my hand over my eyes.

"Hey Harlow. I know it is early, but I wanted us to talk before my flight to New York?" Nash Campbell says.

I jump up sitting up straight. He is the last person I expected to call me. I haven’t spoken to Nash since he ghosted me a few weeks ago. Now he wants to speak to me. Boohoo. I want to say who cares, but apparently, I fucking do.

"If you can be over here in the next hour, we can grab a shower…” I smile. God, I’ve missed him.

"Take your shower Har. I’ll be over in a half an hour. Make sure you’re clothed when I get there Harlowe. I just want to talk…" he refuses.

Damn straight to the heart.

“Great…” I mutter softly. Jesus I’ve gotten so used to Nash showing up, I didn’t expect us to sound like a couple that’s been broken up.

"See you in a half an hour Harlowe…" he says before hanging up.

I slowly place my phone on my bed and stare at it.

What the hell is that?

Why the hell does it sound like he wants to break up with me? Why the hell does he want to break up with me, when we were never together in the first place. It was just sex. It was never more, we both agreed to that. Then out of the blue he just stops sending me messages, calling me. Then again when we started this, we told each other if we ever wanted to end things we’d tell each other. Yet this came so unexpectedly.

Having to find another man, starting the process all from over again, blows. Finding a man who knew what I wanted and needed without having to explain sucks.

Damn, Nash and I have been together, well not together but sleeping together for at least five years. I had never had sex this great with anyone but him, I though he felt the same way, but now I’m not so sure.

As I take my eyes off my phone, I see a silhouette beside me.

Motherfucker!

How much did I have to drink last night?

I need to get this fucker out of here before Nash comes over. He hates me being with anyone else. More like Nash hates to share and we agreed to be exclusive. It wasn’t like I needed more than what Nash offered.

I kick at him.

When he doesn’t move, I kick him harder causing him to fall off my bed and onto my hardwood floors.

I hear the bump and nearly flinch at the sound.

“Jesus Christ…”

He slowly gets up.

“You need to leave…” I warn.

He just glares at me.

I look around for his clothes. I quickly picking up what I can find.

I throw them on the bed. “You need to get dressed and leave before he gets here…” Bloody hell, what is wrong with me?

I run my fingers throw my hair in frustration. What the hell is wrong with me?

How could I make a mistake this big and Jesus… There’s no way Nash is going to continue things now.

I glare at the asshole when I see he hasn’t gotten dressed yet. "Can you leave?" I ask him again. Jesus I still need to shower, I’ve got to get him out as well.

“I honestly have no idea why people even like you. You’re not even that hot. You’re a bitch. Wanna America’s sweetheart…” he sneers.

I grab my bathrobe from the back of my door and slip it on.

“Thank you for your compliment. I’m sure that’s why I’m a household name…” I smile sweetly.

This is why hate meeting guys in a bar, they see me, and they think about the fame attached to my name. Which is funny it’s how Nash and I met.

There’s no way this guy assumed it was love at first sight, when I have no idea who he is, or what bar I went to last night. Forget about names, let’s talk about what the hell I did last night?

Was it going to be all over the gossip sites? Was that why Nash wanted to see me?

He rolls his eyes; but he finally gets dressed.

I let out a sigh of relief.

I need to get a new place. This apartment was supposed to be temporary. Nash got it for me when we started sleeping together.

I’ve been meaning to get a new place for the past five years, but I didn’t want to leave this place.

But if Nash is ending things I don’t think it’s right for me to stay here. I need to find a place. I’ll ask my manager to look for a place.

When he’s done, we walk downstairs, and I open the door for him to leave.

When he walks by me, he says. “Cheap slut…” he sneers

I ignore him and close the door behind him.

Jesus it was nothing new. When I end things with men, they all cry slut and call me a bunch of names I’m used to hearing all my life. My therapist’s say, I choose men who would hurt me because it’s what I’m used to. I say she doesn’t know jack shit and that’s why I haven’t been back to the quack. What does she know about my life? Jackshit that’s what.

I was different than the little girl who took the abuse thrown at her. God, I was different from the girl who used to get bullied for not having parents. I was handed a shitty life from the get go, that’s why this fuckers words didn’t break me, hell I barely even heard them.

That’s why even if Nash was ending things. It wouldn’t hurt me. He could never hurt me. Nothing could ever hurt me anymore.

I swallow the lump in my throat and rush up to the bedroom, I quickly make the bed and throw my clothes that are on the floor in the laundry basket. I air the room and spray home spray in the room. I take a quick shower.

I throw on a navy sports bra and a navy bike shorts. I grab a pair of white Nike socks on my feet. My feet are always cold no matter how hot LA is. I tie my wet hair in a messy bun.

When I walk out of my walk-in closet Nash is sitting on the bed. He looks exactly like I remember him. blonde short hair he has cut once a week, his pale pink lips, I wouldn’t mind against mine. His brown, green as piercing as ever. He always looks at me like he can see right through me.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Nash in sweatpants before. The sweatshirt is a surprise as well. The grey sweats fit him perfectly.

He stands. “I hope you don’t mind, I let myself in with my key…” he says putting his phone in his pocket.