April

(this is a novel idea I have, and this is the beginning that came to me and I would love to know if this gets your interest. Of course, any other critique is also welcome. Do you like the first person, or would you prefer the third person? I am thinking of adding names, and a little more history but I want to see if this is even a start that is interesting.)

It started with betrayal.

A notification from Tinder and my body went into fight or flight. As I asked him why this would happen and he deleted any evidence of the message, my body started to shake uncontrollably. I tried to gaslight myself into thinking it was a fluke. Sometimes iPhones make mistakes, but my brain knew better. As this back-and-forth continued in my head, I knew we were done. A relationship we thought wouldn't end came to a sudden stop. He wanted something else, and I knew he'd regret it.

However sad that feeling was, I wasn't broken. I was horny and ready to find someone who would want only me or at least wanted to fuck me. Unfortunately for my sexual self, I wasn't the best at just fucking. I had to find someone I also connected with mentally. No matter how unstable they may be in the end.

As any good predator would do, I hid out and conferred with others. I watched and listened and waited. I had my eyes on someone, and I needed more info. I needed to mark my territory and make it feel like it was his idea. He was a loner, the type that brought books to work and read instead of making small talk and not looking up unless actively needed for actual work. His mysterious nature made me curious, and I figured he'd be more challenging than most men to lure. I would have to be more than a good body, and I would have to be cerebral—my specialty.

I relished the opportunity to be nervous and try something new. I determined my plan of attack and approached him. I asked him questions I knew the answer to but would allow him to feel dominant over me and more intelligent, exactly where I wanted him. I continued this dance, submitting to his intellectual prowess. I could see him physically relax as this continued. As he began to ask me questions, I became aloof. I realized why he stuck to himself and wore emotions on his face. All of them. He was confused but intrigued.

The next day, I was sure not to look at him even once. Unfortunately, an emergency meant we had to work closely together, and I took that time to remain stoic and professional. After the emergency, I took to my desk only to have him walk around casually. We chatted, and again, I left him to ponder what I was thinking. Finally, by the end of the day, I came and asked to listen to his music. He didn't hesitate to share his headphones as we huddled close to each other to hear. He described the music, and I listened intently to every word. He handed me his number at this point. Later, I handed it back with my number on the paper, telling him he needed to be the one to text first.

A challenge most men would not be concerned with taking unless they were very interested.

I couldn't have known that this was the moment I was fucked. A mess that started with a betrayal and would end with me burning down every cell of who I thought I was.