Dumped.

By: A. Cosentino

1100 words.

Angst and language warning.

"I'm not really sure how to say this," she said quietly. Sitting in this quaint little Italian restaurant I'd chosen for this special night, I didn't like the sound of those words.

I shifted in my seat a little and reached across the small table, taking her hand into mine gently, watching the candle light play across her perfect features. She was everything that I knew I wanted in a woman, all rolled up into the perfect tiny package. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a body that was just amazing, not to mention she was funny as hell, and a lot of fun to be around. But those are just some of the reasons I love her.

I'd planned this night to perfection. I never really thought this day would come, but sitting here right now, I knew there was no other place, and no other person I would rather be with. For the past ten months, everyday had felt like that.

She looked at me with her wide blue eyes, the candle light causing them to sparkle like sapphires. She slipped her hand from mine and took a long drink of her wine. Placing her glass carefully back onto the table, she took a deep breath.

I waited, anxiously.

"Lester I don't think we should see each other anymore," she said quickly, glancing at me to gauge my reaction.

I felt as if a Mack truck had plowed into my chest. I blinked a few times, trying to process what I had just heard. Before I could say anything, she quickly continued.

"I think you're a great guy, and we've had a lot of fun together. I just don't really see this going any where do you? I mean we get along great, and the sex, well it's phenomenal, but on a deeper level I'm just not feeling it."

For the first time in my life I was completely speechless. I knew I had to play this cool, and I was digging deep for every suave, calm, collected thing I'd ever said. The sinking feeling in my stomach didn't let up, but I somehow managed to force the words to come out of my mouth.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," I said, pasting a smile onto my face.

"You're not angry?" she asked.

"Hell no," I said, chuckling a little. I knew that I had to keep the smile plastered onto my face even though I felt that my heart was being ripped from my chest. "It was fun while it lasted," I said. The fakeness of my smile was starting to wear thin, and I didn't know how much longer I could keep up the charade.

"I'm so glad," she said, a genuine look of relief came across her beautiful features. "I was afraid you would be upset."

"No, of course not. Like I said we had fun."

"Yes, we did," she purred. "I hope that we can still be friends."

"Absolutely."

"Well I really should be getting home. I have so much to do, and I have to be at work early tomorrow." She stood and grabbed her purse. I stood and forced my smile to stay in place for just a little longer. "Thanks so much for dinner," she said stepping over and hugging me lightly. I held her close; breathing in her scent for what I knew was the last time.

"You're welcome," I managed to say.

"I'll see you around?" she said looking up at me.

"Sure. Would you like me to take you home?"

"No, that's ok. I'll just grab a cab." She looked at me for a long time, as if trying to detect some signs of anger, or hurt.

"Ok, take care."

"You too, Lester." I watched as she walked away. I sat down slowly.

Dumped. I've never been fucking dumped in my life, I thought bitterly. Who in the hell does that bitch think she is? And of course it would be the one woman that I just couldn't seem to get enough of. The waiter came by and dropped the check. I shoved a few bills into the small black folder and quickly stood. I needed to get out. Needed to get away from this perfect night I had spent weeks planning.

I walked out of the restaurant, and headed toward my Escalade parked down the street. My heart was still churning in my chest, and I kicked myself in the ass for reading the whole thing wrong. Had I been so deluded into thinking that she felt the same way I did, that I couldn't see the signs? Had there even been any signs?

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath. What surprised me the most was how badly it hurt. I've always been the one to walk away from women, and for the first time in my life, I felt bad about that. Had the women I'd walked away from felt like this? Had this clenching, burning, churning feeling in their chest? Felt like screaming at the top of their lungs, or kicking the shit out of something? Had they felt like they had been weighed, measured and come up lacking?

No. I'd always been up front with them.

Hadn't I?

I stopped and glanced up at the night sky, as if it held all the answers to the questions and self doubt plaguing me. I shoved my hands into my pockets, feeling the small pale blue Tiffany box that I'd spent a whole month's salary on. I pulled it out and popped open the top. The perfect four caret princess cut diamond glared up, taunting me from its snug little velvet enclosure.

Perfect my fucking ass.

I snapped the lid shut with disgust. I could taste the bitterness in the back of my throat, threatening to choke me. I swallowed it back, locking it away. Rage burned through my veins. I was angry at myself for ever allowing myself to be sucked into this vicious game. Before I could stop myself, a snarl ripped from my throat and I threw the 'perfect' little box down an alley to my left. Hearing it smash against something in the darkness, I took a deep breath.

I beat down the tears that burned my eyes. I don't fucking cry. Bad ass, ex-special forces bounty hunters don't fucking cry. I repeated this in my head for a couple of moments, until it became a chanting mantra in my head.

I stalked to my Escalade, making a vow every step of the way.

Never again. Never again. Never again.