Walking towards an unexplored area of the bookstore where no fantasies , dragons, or orgasms live, I strive to expand my taste by picking up the latest Malcolm Gladwell "The Revenge of the Tipping Point". It's supposed to be a good read, but I prefer reading about things I used to do or haven't had the chance to experience yet. I usually like picking books without knowing too much, I enjoy tension and the art of uncertainty.

As I groan reading through the unfulfilling titles, I look down at my floral sundress wondering if it's just a little too short. I try not to bring too much attention to myself but still want to feel pretty and dress how I like. I smile as I walk through pockets of people and try to be as polite as possible so someone doesn't think I'm dressing slutty but a sweet girl that just likes to dress cute.

Maybe I should wander over to the self help area to learn how to just be myself without caring what people think. I want to improve on my own without needing help but it used to be nice to have someone by my side that continuously pushed and expected the best.

He understood that if I knew too much about what was going to occur that day I would get in my head and it was harder for me to release any good emotion. I haven't met anyone since that can relax me the way he did. As I remembered how he'd pin me against a wall with a hand on my throat, a thigh between my legs, and demand me to cum, I realize I've been standing in this spot for way too long. I'm a little wet, flushed, and a bit embarrassed if anyone noticed that I got turned on in the non fiction section.

The romance area seems more fitting to my current mood. As I walk over I remember that I haven’t hung out with a few of my friends in awhile. I really should reach out. I mean to, I just get distracted easily and tunnel visioned if I'm starting a new project. Distancing from him put me in a weird headspace that alienated myself from some people ion my life. It was so hard to build such an intense bond to see it end. I've attempted to go on dates through mutual friends but I can always tell halfway through my first drink that the nice guy in front of me will never be able to fill all the areas that I need in my life. I would rather be patient, single, and uncertain of my future than unsatisfied.

I haven’t seen him since we decided to part ways. We built our our dynamic so quickly that it be came overwhelming after a few months. It was so intense that he was worried we didn't build the foundation that we should've in the beginning. I understand where he was coming from but it's so rare to find that much passion and alignment with someone. Why couldn't we slow down and build both at the same time? I miss the fun and the games we would play. His intense stares and expectations always made me want to be better for him and myself. I liked making him proud and striving for perfection.

At the time I worried about my parents picking up on subtle hints of our relationship being different. I would get flustered in public when asked to do something, but I wish I had the chance to try again sometimes. His entrancing light green eyes can be spotted from across the room. He's the type of man that can demand attention and respect without needing to say much. Many guys I come across at bars when I'm out with friends feel as though every woman appreciates someone projecting their testosterone in every direction possible. Some of those women as my friends.

As I walk towards the photography section, I get an uneasy feeling. I'm starting to wish I grabbed my jean jacket before I left my car. My expression drops and get a chill. I can be pretty paranoid and for the sake of my self care afternoon I ignore it. I’m supposed to be buying a book, getting a cocktail, and walking around any other store that I see fit. I owe it to myself to not waiver on my plans because of a feeling not grounded in any sort of truth.

I shake it off and skim through an architectural design section focused on the south of France all the way to Tokyo. I always appreciate the photography in books and try to collect the most intriguing ones to stack on my coffee table. I want to find books that no one else will have. I like being slightly unique without standing out too much. Last summer I found a bookstore in San Diego that I will never be able to find again that had tall old bookshelves that were way too close together and an owner that gave you a lecture in the "lobby" before entering. I constantly felt if the kid on the other side accidentally backed into one all the shelves would domino on top of one another. I found a book in the surfing section that contained pictures from the past 100 years of surfing in Australia that fits perfectly. My chest drops and I suddenly feel like I'm the only person in this section. I dare not turn around in case he’s there. But he can’t be. I glance slightly to my right to see if I catch anyone looking in my direction but there's only a couple and a few teenagers walking around. I rub my foreman, take a deep breath as I turn around to head out the store.

Sam shouldn’t be here but I swear I can feel his fingertips graze my shoulder.

I turn around and like I thought the same couple is still looking at which gardening book will revive their rose bushes. I skip spending money on a book and decide to leave the store and go straight for an espresso martini. I must be tired and hallucinating to think he could be in the area.

I walk down the steps and take a turn to head towards the exit when a hand wraps around my waist, pulls me into their chest, and a familiar deep voice whispers “There you are”