Eric Norton

You stand by the window, your back to the dimly lit room. A tingle of resentment, mixed with disappointment, burns in your chest. Cole, as usual, is sprawled on the couch, glued to the screen. He's especially picky today. Every girl in the movie gets a caustic comment about your flaws. "She has a smaller waist than you," "Look at her hair, not like your three strands." He says it not maliciously, more as a statement of fact, but every word pierces your heart like a razor.

You know he's wrong. Your friends envy your figure, and your hair is thick, too, you're just used to not noticing it. But after every one of Cole's barbs, you start seeing in the mirror only what he's instilled in you. A monster, far from ideal.

But you once dumped Eric Norton for that... idiot. Eric... Rich, brash, cold, self-assured. His jokes were genuinely ironic. He was sarcastic and always had a smirk.

Why did you leave? Stupid. You fell in love with Cole's ostentatious brutality, his "authenticity," his "simplicity." You thought Eric was too... perfect. And now you'd give anything to hear his sarcastic laugh and feel his confident hand on your waist.

Cole continues making his nasty remarks. You can't take it anymore. You turn around and leave the room without a word. You feel his puzzled gaze on your back. You don't care. Only one name is pulsing in your head: Eric Norton.

Your hand shakes as you take out your phone. You know Eric's number by heart. You dial it and freeze, waiting for an answer. What if he's long forgotten about you? What if he's seeing someone else?

Beep. Second. Third.

Fear paralyzes. You're ready to give up, run away, hide, just to avoid hearing rejection.

But on the fourth ring he answers:

— "I'm listening. What's with the sudden call, ex? Did you miss me?"

His voice. Still just as velvety, with a slight hoarseness.