"It's over!" I yelled into my phone and hoped that the thick head, Philip Masterson, could get it through his skull. "Go, you are free to do whatever you want with Milli now. I was such a burden to you. You didn't know how to tell me it's over, such a complication in your life. You made me sound like a nutcase. I don't want to shackle you down and make your life a living hell. So, go, now there are no more complications."

"Cassy, please. I—"

I pressed the red button fast. Tears pricked my eyes as the downstairs party music drummed against the walls.

He is not worth it.

I was so over the tears, done with pining over the asshole that didn't want me. A jerk who'd cheated around every corner and I was so stupid to believe his soppy lies, that they were just friends, or just a working colleague.

How daft must you be to believe all that shit? Well, I was. Me, twenty-nine-year-old Cassandra Blanc. I believed every word that left the devious snake's lips. He was a pretty beautiful devious snake, though. With his succulent lips and those dreamy eyelashes. That body, argh! Cassy, stop! Just stop! It's never going to work.

Milli was the last straw, and to make it worse, it happened a month ago, thirty days before our wedding. Today wasn't one of the best days of my life.

I had a very long, tedious conversation with the seductress. It was like speaking to a brick wall until I realized she believed all the beautiful lies that left his lips, too.

She told me everything. He told her I had nothing (not that he was wrong about that). I didn't own a piece of furniture, just a crappy old VW Bug that got me from point A to B. The reason I owned nothing was because I moved in with him seven years ago.

What hurt the most was that he said I was this hopeless nut case that refused to take no for an answer and that he tried so many times to break it off with me. He forgot to tell her how he went down on one knee, with a beautiful black box, carrying the most extravagant ring, begging me to be his wife.

She refused to believe that part and begged me to just leave him; he was so unhappy. She was silent when I showed her the wedding invitation. Or maybe she thought that the nut inside of me—the way Philip carried on—made that wedding invitation too. People could be so shitty and ruthless.

Well, I was sure the black box connecting with his face clarified I was checking out for good, and just how free he became.

Asshole. Why did I always end up with men like that? Was there an invisible sign stuck on my head that read: right of admission reserved, only idiots welcome?

I wiped the tears when the door of my room opened. Imagine Dragons' newest hit seeped through.

Straight blonde hair, cut into a sleek bob, rested on the shoulders of one of my working colleagues and friends, Emily Duval. She looked spiffy in her short summer dress, covering her yellow polka dot bikini. You would never say she gave birth to the most gorgeous baby boy six months ago.

"You okay?"

"I will be." I blew out air and brushed my fingers through my wavy hair.

"Let me guess, Philip again?" She had these feline shaped eyes with salon sculpted eyebrows and makeup that brought out the green in her irises.

I nodded. "He refuses to take no for an answer."

"What does your heart say?" She leaned against the frame of my door and crossed her arms.

"That I'll die a spinster and he was my last chance."

She snorted her laugh, and I giggled.

"Sorry," Em said with a crinkled nose.

"It's not your fault that the guy is an idiot. The signs were always there. I just refused to see it. But he is learning the hard way that there is no more coming back."

"Love sucks sometimes."

"Hey, you married Mr. Perfect."

"It took a lot of nasty frogs to find him. Harold asked me to come and drag you out of the room. He said it's a friendly reminder and if you will not join us, he will throw you over his shoulder and chuck you into the pool."

"Hmph." Harold would do that.

"Even if it's just for a few minutes. You'll never forget about the asshole cooped up in your room."

I nodded. "Give me a few, okay?"

She winked, closed my door, and left.

Emily was six years younger than me. She met Harold Duval, a gem of a giant, who swept her off her feet and didn't wait years to ask her to marry him either.

I wasted seven years of my life with Philip. Why couldn't they just man up, be honest? Why kept you on this leash?

I could see it now. I was going to die alone with fifty cats.

I needed to get my butt to the gym or one of Chahna's belly dancing classes. Exercise always cleared my head, and I meant clearing it. There wasn't a single thought when I was on that running belt, but Harold wouldn't let me drive this time of night. Especially not with a house full of people having a great time and a VW Bug that was functioning on borrowed time.

I got up from the bed and walked to my closet. My black bikini—not that I was going to swim—and a tank top were the first things I grabbed.

The en-suite bathroom had a bath and shower in one with a toilet and sink, but it was more than enough. I was grateful for the extended arm that Em lent me when she found me that afternoon by the hotel's bar, crying because of an idiot breaking my heart.

I thought he was the one.

Love didn't play a fair game, or maybe I was just the unlucky one that never got the rule book on how to play this one.

I pulled off my clothes and put on my bikini. My cheeky sleeping shorts got pulled back over my butt and I exchanged the two-sizes-too-big-shirt for the tank top.

I tied my brown wavy hair into a high ponytail and, with the last loop, ended it in a messy bun. I wasn't in the mood for any makeup, but when the zombie in the mirror stared back at me, I reached for the vanity bag.

A bit of color would get rid of this pallid skin. The past month did loads for my figure.

I wasn't a stress eater, and I'd lost like fifteen pounds. Just enough to get rid of all the unwanted bulges I'd picked up during the time I planned for my non-existent wedding.

I looked good, but I felt like a wilted flower.

I should be more like men, have one-night stands and fuck for pleasure..... That's just a horrible idea! You are not even that crazy about sex. It was a very one sided type of sport if you asked me.

I blotched some makeup on my face. Not too much. Just enough to give me some color, and that healthy sort of look.

That will have to do.

I stepped into my flip-flops that were right in front of my bed and dressing table. One last look in the mirror, and I yanked open the door and walked down the hallway.

Stunning photos of Em and Harold covered the walls. Painted letters saying "Home is where the heart is" took up half of the one wall right next to the staircase leading downstairs.

The music became overpowering, and it was an oldie that was still an enormous hit. Flo Rida's Right Round. The sound vibrated against the wooden floors as I stepped down the last step. I walked into the kitchen and Jen, Patrick's girlfriend, shrieked. She wrapped her arms around me and screamed.

She wasn't one of my favorites to be honest, but she sure was a stunner with her dark short hair and big doe eyes, a bit of a party mess too, but a stunner. I knew she left rehab a few weeks ago, not for alcohol, but for drugs. Patrick worked with Em and me at Ivy Boutique Hotel (Named after the owner).

I felt sorry for Jen. She was one of those people who struggled to kick the habit, and I guessed it was why I tolerated the mess that accompanied her.

I did not know that they were here, and I was glad that there was at least a couple that I knew other than Em and Harold.

"How are you doing, darling?"

My eyes flickered to her nose stud. "Getting there, sweets. Getting there."

"I can't believe Phil did that to you. I thought you guys were so happy."

"Me too." I raised my eyebrows at her and she kept on giving me that pity scowl.

She grabbed me tighter around the neck. "Sorry. Tonight we are going to party the roof off and get horribly drunk."

I laughed. Yeah, that was so not me anymore. Fuck, I feel old, like 55 and not 29.

She poured herself a drink as we spoke about the crappy month and Milli. What he told her and how shitty I felt. It drained the life from my soul.

"I'm sure you would meet someone your age that would sweep you off your feet in no time. You are beautiful, Cass. I mean, nobody can ignore your sexy curves. I have to say you look stunning."

"Yeah, a badass breakup would do that to you."

She snorted, and I walked with her toward the under roof swimming pool. That was the best feature of Harold and Em's house. They have this amazing Olympic swimming pool right behind their lounge. He dubbed it his man cave and since he was like 25, almost every second weekend, there was some sort of party going on at their house.

There were a lot of bodies in the water playing pool volleyball with the music blaring. Thank heavens, little Neil wasn't here this weekend. It was his first sleepover at Em's mother's house. They both looked forward to that. Well, Em and her mother, Sam.

I slipped through the throng of people the second Jen got distracted by one lad that called her name.

She was such a flirt, and Em and I wondered on various occasions if she didn't cheat on Patrick. It wouldn't surprise me after my eyes opened to how cruel love could be.

I found Em chatting with Patrick on one recliner and plopped down on the one next to Em.

"Hey, Cass." Patrick bent over Em and gave me a kiss on each cheek. He was tall and skinny, wearing knee-length swim shorts and a loose tank top. His short blond spiky hair, blue eyes and smooth face made him look like a boy of 16 and not 21. 

"Life goes on, or so I heard." I sat on the edge of the recliner and not the length, facing her and Pat.

He laughed as Em pushed a glass of wine into my hands.

My eyes flickered to the wine box—so posh—right next to her recliner with a few extra glasses and a bucket filled with ice. "Let me guess, he is way too busy to keep refilling your glass?"

"Yeah, when Jackson is here, I don't have a bloody husband. I hope he is going to ask him tonight to sleep with him too."

I giggled. "Who is Jackson?"

Patrick put an invisible gun against his head and pulled the imaginary trigger, falling on the recliner.

Em thought he was hilarious. "Hotness on legs, but such a player. Don't even look at him, Cass."

"I'm sure he is more your age than mine."

"Oh, you will spin another story when you see him, but I've warned you. Don't."

I laughed. "Why would I?"

"Because he hasn't been able to take his eyes off you since you plopped down on this recliner."

Heat filled my cheeks, and Em laughed. I didn't know where this guy was that couldn't keep his eyes off me.

"I'm too old for this shit, I swear." I took a couple of sips from my wine glass.

"Cass," Harold yelled, and I turned to look where his voice came from.

My stomach did a double flip when my eyes landed on him and the beauty of a man next to Harold. The guy had this raven messy hair and piercing blue eyes with sun kissed skin. Both of them sat down in the water with only their heads and shoulders sticking out. But from his well-defined shoulders, I could tell that he had a beautiful body to fit with his Tommy Hillfigure face.

Harold showed a couple of hand signals, and I struggled to understand what he tried to tell me. I hated when he did this, but the beaut next to him thought it was hilarious. I flipped him off when it was my turn to answer.

I shook my head and looked back at Em and Pat. The one stared at me and the other one's shoulder bobbed from silent laughter.

"Fuck off," I whispered, but I have to admit, player or not, that boy was damn hot.

The first chapter. What do you guys think. I feel bad for Cass. I mean she is at that awkward stage of not being in her twenties anymore and ready for the big 30 and then she has to move in with friends that was like 23 and 25 years old who still love to party. Not that 29 year old's don't love to party. But they are getting at that stage where they want to settle down and think about kids. Let me know your thoughts. 

https://youtu.be/CcCw1ggftuQ