The mont his gaze lifted, his eyes went wide, his mouth parting in shock—and sothing else.
Hunger.
Desire.
He looked her up and down, his Adam’s apple bobbing as if he’d forgotten how to breathe.
For a split second, Lois saw the Billy she rembered—the sweet, gentle man who once held her hand like she was the most precious thing in his world.
But then she saw sothing darker flicker across his face.
And it broke her heart.
Lois approached the table, every step making the hem of her dress ride higher, her thong flash in teasing glimpses.
She could feel the eyes of every man in the restaurant burning into her, the heat of their arousal like a thousand invisible hands crawling over her skin.
Her cheeks flad as she finally slid into the chair opposite Billy, clutching her purse like a lifeline.
"Lois..." Billy finally spoke, his voice hoarse, filled with confusion—and want. "You... you look..."
Lois forced a trembling smile, her heart shattering with every second.
Ross... why are you doing this to ?
"...different," Billy finally said, the word catching in his throat.
It was the only thing he could manage as he looked at her—really looked at her.
This wasn’t the Lois he knew.
This woman sitting before him in that scandalously short dress, her lips painted a seductive red, her hair cascading in soft waves... she looked like soone else entirely.
Lois forced a smile, her fingers gripping the edge of the table to keep from trembling. She slid into the seat across from him and tried to sound casual.
"I know. How have you been, Billy? Did you win your ga against the Yankees?"
Billy blinked, stunned that she was asking sothing so normal when everything about her scread wrong.
"I did," he said slowly, his voice low, cautious. Then his jaw tightened. "But sothing tells you’re not here to talk about the ga."
The sadness in his eyes cut through her like a blade. Guilt gnawed at her insides.
She rembered the last ti she saw him—smiling, teasing her in that boyish way, making her feel safe.
Back then, she was the prim and proper girl any man would proudly introduce to his parents. Back then, she still belonged to him.
Back then... before Ross.
"Nope." Lois forced a laugh that ca out brittle. "It’s... sothing else. But shouldn’t we order food first?"
Billy didn’t move. He didn’t even glance at the nu. His gaze stayed locked on her, searching her face, begging for an explanation without words.
Lois lowered her eyes, her chest aching, and whispered the words she had dreaded all day. "Billy... I think we should break up."
Silence.
The words hung between them like smoke, suffocating.
Billy’s hands curled into fists on the table. "Why?" His voice cracked, raw with disbelief. "Lois... why? After everything?"
Her lips trembled.
She wanted to lie, to give him so excuse that would soften the blow.
But Ross’s voice echoed in her mind, dark and commanding: "Be honest. Tell him who owns you now."
Lois’s throat tightened. She hadn’t expected Billy to ask the one question she feared most. Who?
When he did, her world tilted.
"Who is it, Lois?" Billy’s tone was sharp now, desperate. "Tell . Who the hell is he?"
She hesitated for only a mont—because what was the point in hiding it? Sooner or later, Billy would find out. Ross wanted him to know.
"It’s..." She swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. "...Ross. Ross Oakley."
Billy’s expression froze, his eyes widening in shock. His breath ca out in a harsh laugh—one filled with disbelief and rage.
"Ross Oakley? Him?!"
Lois couldn’t look him in the eye.
She just stared at the pristine white tablecloth, her hands clenched in her lap, her heart breaking—because she knew nothing would ever be the sa after this.
***
The eting between the two lovers ended, and Billy walked away carrying a weight that crushed his chest with every step.
He took the bitter truth like a man—or at least that’s what Lois might have thought.
He didn’t rage, didn’t curse her out, didn’t beg.
He simply nodded, masking his heartbreak behind a quiet acceptance that almost broke her even more.
But the cracks showed in the days that followed.
"Billy, what the hell is happening to you, man? That was an easy catch!" a teammate barked as the ball slipped right through Billy’s fingers during practice.
Billy cursed under his breath, trying to ignore the burning stares from the rest of the team. "I’m sorry," he muttered, forcing a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. "Let’s run it again."
They did. And again, he missed.
His body was on the field, but his mind... his mind was stuck replaying that night at the restaurant, the image of Lois in that revealing black dress, the sound of her voice breaking as she said his na—and then his.
Ross Oakley.
By the end of the session, Billy felt like a ghost in his own skin.
He ditched the locker room chatter and drove straight to the bar, dialing up a few close friends.
If misery loved company, then whiskey made it easier to swallow.
Hours later, they were deep into their third round when the dam finally broke.
Billy slamd his glass on the counter, his words slurred but his anger sharp.
"She... she left , man. For him. For fucking Ross Oakley."
The table went silent for a beat before one of his friends snorted bitterly.
"That’s rough, man. But are we surprised? Ross is a goddamn vulture. Stealing girls left and right—and sohow, the world paints him like so kind of saint."
"Yeah," another chid in, his tone darkening. "You think you’re the first guy he’s done this to? Hell no. Ross Oakley thinks he can take whatever he wants and nobody’s gonna check him."
Billy stared into his drink, his jaw clenching. Rage simred in his gut, boiling hotter with every word they said.
Then ca the spark.
"What about," his friend leaned in with a conspiratorial grin, voice low, "we let him taste his own dicine? Teach Ross Oakley that he’s not untouchable."
Billy’s grip tightened around his glass until his knuckles turned white.
For the first ti that night, a flicker of sothing other than despair flashed in his eyes.
User Comments
0 comments from readers