Tommy

Six Months Later

What time is it?

My eyes spring open at the sound of my alarm going off. Another fucking day. Maybe I can ignore it and get another couple of minutes in. My phone is clear across the room. My stupid attempt at forcing me to get out of bed to turn it off, but I throw a pillow over my head to ignore it. I want to continue living in my dream because it's the only time I get to see her again. I'd there that I've locked her up. It's there where she's safe.

It's no use. I can still hear it. It's fucking loud and the sound is like a jammed gear in my head.

"Are you going to get that?" Rachel whispers beside me.

I smirk as I shake my head. I'm not ready for the day to start— hell, I'm not ready for the night to end. She places a kiss on my naked chest, "Do you want me to get it?"

I don't immediately answer her, content with feeling the warm, naked body draped on me. My hands mold perfectly around her soft feminine curves and I feel myself relax for the briefest of moments. There's nothing like the warmth of a woman that's been properly fucked.

"One of us has to," I murmur. "Time for work."

She cuddles into my side, pulling me tighter to her. I don't want to move, but I know that I have to. It's my second week at Angel Grove Memorial and I have to keep making a good impression. As much as I enjoy the women in my life, I have a duty to my career.

I throw the covers off of me and take a good look around the room. It's a fucking disaster. Clothes are everywhere, there's an empty box of condoms on the bedside table and an opened bottle of wine. Just an ordinary weekend. With responsibility winning today's war, I get up, turn off the alarm, and head towards the bathroom.

"Come back to bed," Rachel smiles up at me. She rubs the warm spot on the bed, enticing me, "You can be a little late."

How I wish I could. I turn to look at her and give her my best attempt at a smile. She has a full head of brown hair, skin like porcelain with a dusting of freckles, and perfectly round breasts that I spent all night worshipping. She checks off every box… but…. she's not her.

"Well?" She giggles as she spreads her legs for me, her hair splayed on the pillow like a halo, but we both know she's no angel. Not after the filthy things she whispered in my ear all night.

Hmm… tempting.

A part of me jumps in approval and I growl at my dicks inability to keep his thoughts to himself. She's not the one, man. Forget it.

This is when my stomach starts to twist. It happens every fucking time. The regret. It rumbles through me like vomit. Shame. Disgust. And I don't know why… well, no— that's a lie. I do know why.

"Another time," I tell her. "The night's over. Get out."

She gives me a playful pout, "Aww. You're a party pooper."

I give her a weak smile. I've heard it all before. She isn't the first, second, or third girl I've brought back to my new apartment… and I can definitely guarantee that she won't be the last. But I can say for certain that it'll be the last time she steps a foot through my door.

"It's time to be a responsible adult," I shrug, "playtime is over."

This isn't the norm. I know that if this is something that I truly wanted, I would have it. I can be late, but that's not the issue. The issue is that I want someone that wants nothing to do with me, yet here I am wondering if she cares at all about me. Does she still think of me like I think of her?

Rachel sucks on her finger suggestively, reminding me of how I brought her to her knees last night. Nope. Can't do it.

I turn around quickly before I lose all self-control and tackle her in the bed. This isn't right. I know it isn't, but I can't do anything about it. Something inside of me is tethered to that damn vixen from New York. Kimberly hexed me or something those six months ago because I can't get her out of my damn mind. Here I am chasing every woman with brown hair when brunettes aren't even my type!

I stayed faithful for two fucking months. Faithful… fuck, I don't know if I should even call it that? What commitment did I have to her? None. She told me time after time that she wanted nothing to do with me and I was the idiot that wouldn't listen. I waited for her to reach out to me because I had no other way of contacting her. She went silent. I tried every single thing I could think of to try and find her, but she's a ghost. There was no trace of her. But there I was, in the longest dry spell of my life trying to find someone that didn't want to be found. I moved forward but I didn't move on. She's in the back of my mind and every time I turn a woman over, I pretend it's her.

A shiver runs through me as I step under the icy shower. This is the distraction I need to get both women out of my damn head. Rachel was a nice distraction so that I didn't fall asleep alone. On the nights that I do, I spend hours on the internet googling every Kimberly Hart in the country. It's unhealthy… and a lot creepy. Especially because I'm not even sure that was even her real name.

"Mind if I join you?" Rachel doesn't even wait for me to answer before she steps under the water.

Actually, I do. Go away.

"Want me to come over tonight?" She asks as she shampoos her hair, "I don't have plans."

Say yes.

"Not tonight," I reply. What the fuck is wrong with me?

"Oh," her smile fades, "Maybe tomorrow?"

"Maybe," I mutter, but we both know that's a lie. More empty promises. I won't see her again after tonight. I'm back to my old ways. No sloppy seconds, not even my own.

She lathers some soap in her hands and slowly begins to work it on my skin. I have a primal reaction to being touched…to feeling wanted, but I'm quickly reminded that it's not by the right person. Her lips fall on my neck and I bite the inside of my cheek to restrain myself. It would be so easy to have her again.

"That's enough," I growl once I come to my senses. I gently push her off of me as I fall back under the water.

I don't mean to be such a jackass, but I also can't help myself. It lessens the rejection if I turn out to be just like every other jerk out there. Besides, I don't think she likes me all that much anyway. She likes the status and money that comes with being with me. And I know that because no woman in their right mind would want to continue to be with someone after treating them like dirt. We met at the club on Friday and spent the last two days tangled in the sheets. I literally don't know a single thing about her and I really don't care. We both know she's not here because I give a damn. Something inside of me has changed. I've always been so playful and free because I know that there are no strings attached, but I can't bring that side of me out anymore. I'm fucking miserable to be around.

I quickly rinse the soap off of my body and jump out of the shower. She doesn't do it for me. I've been in Angel Grove for three weeks now and every single day seems to be worse and worse. It's a boring old town with boring old people. There's no excitement. I'm not sure how Jason managed to convince me to come here. I haven't even had the chance to see him much. At least the people in the hospital have been welcoming.

I grab a nearby white towel and wrap it around myself as I walk into the closet of my sky-rise apartment. My clothes are neatly pressed and hanging off the hangers in rows of colors. My closet is large and filled with designer clothes that trickle down to the socks, but today I'm not planning on looking like a million bucks. I pull out a pair of blue scrubs that fit a little tight around my biceps and quickly throw them on. I'm already behind schedule. I run some product through my short hair as I come up with what I'm going to say to Rachel.

'Thanks. Get lost?' I shake my head, 'I'll see you around?' Somehow that's worse, 'I'm not looking for more right now.'

Yeah, I think that'll work.

I open up my Instagram page and scroll through my DM's as I do every single morning. It's part of my morning routine now. And as I swipe my finger, I see nothing but the same types of chicks with the same type of manufactured faces. Yawn. I go to my profile and I check out my bio. Twenty-two million followers and a little blue checkmark by my name.

Dr. Tommy Oliver

Call me, freckles.

I've had that bio for six fucking months and nothing. No phone call, no text, no sign that she was real and I didn't hallucinate the whole thing. I'm sure it's time that I update my bio, but a big part of me is still holding out hope that she's out there looking for me too.

With a final look at myself in the mirror, I close my screen and shove the phone in my pocket.

And as I do so, I hear the water in the bathroom turn off. I release a quick sigh. Another day, another heart to break.

Now to do this.

Author note: Hey guys! I hope everyone is doing well. Just a short chapter for me in between tests. This chapter was initially going to be much longer but I decided to cut it down into two. Hopefully I can get the next chapter out for you guys soon. Please let me know how you guys are liking this story. I know it was a long time since my last update, but I'm almost done with school. FINALLY! I'm having fun with this story and I hope you guys are enjoying it.