“ITS CALLED BEING CIVILIZED”


He was standing by his lifted ford truck. My heart quicken. Cowboy hat, dark beard covering a sharp jaw. Broad shoulders and leans. Tight as fuck Levi Strauss jeans that had no business clinging to a man’s junk!

Still as handsome as the day he walked out of my life.

I was so screwed! Damn my luck!

“Here you go!” I chirped ever so sweetly.

He greeted me with his “Howdy Becky!”

I handed him his coffees. Black. 2 sugar. Double Double. 2 cream 1 sugar. 2 cokes.

Drinks I already made and given to his new girlfriend! apparently his girlfriend was incapable of walking and thinking at the same time! She had tripped and spilled the coffee.

Oops!

He stared at me then the drinks I held out for him. “What is this?”

I frowned. “What is what?”

“That!” He gestured to the tray. The beverage tray appeared to be cherry wood instead of styrofoam it was made out of.

“A beverage tray” I explained slowly.

He made an impatient sound. “Since when have had you used drink trays?” He shook his head and started to take the drinks out of the tray to hand them to his girlfriend.

He paused to look at the coffee labeled “double double” then shook his head. “It’s like the 8 months we dated I never really knew you”

His words stung. He was the one that left me! I could feel tears gathering.

“It’s like I dated a monster!”

I forced a smile. “It’s called being civilized,” I managed “something your too Americanized ass wouldn’t know about!”

We stared at each other one more time. He grinned “Jesus Christ you still got a mouth on you” his eyes suddenly heated, his body shifted as if he remembered my mouth used to drive him crazy in all the right places.

I lifted my chin defiantly “you ain’t having my mouth back” my gaze flickered to his little side piece. “You have your salad and grill chicken”

He threw back his head and laughed “ah Becky, why would I want some appetizer when I could have a full course?”

“Ask yourself that. I don’t do somebody’s leftovers!” I pivoted on my heel and marched back inside the restaurant.

  • if a Canadian and American dated in my dream. And he looked like Rip from Yellowstone!

♥writing was all I had, all I’ve ever had, the only currency, the only proof that I was alive. Memory.♥ each of us has a story to tell. Leave your thoughts. Leave your comments.

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