It’s amazing how someone can break your heart but
you still love them with all the broken little pieces.
-Helen
Jillian
With clammy hands, Jillian held on to the towel bar in
the bathroom of her hotel room. The all too familiar feeling of nausea consumed
her. Take deep calming breaths in and out,
in and out. Eyes closed. Visions, like snapshots, tattooed the inside of
her eyelids. Her heart pounded like a drum, blood rushing to her ears. All
senses slowly paralyzed as the snapshots began to appear.
Chiseled abs. Snapshot.
Parted lips. Snapshot.
Thighs. Strong, muscular thighs. Snapshot. Breathe in and out,
Jillian Stone. Pull yourself together.
Pectoral muscles. Snapshot.
No doubt about it. It was going to happen soon.
Piercing blue eyes. Snapshot.
Lips gliding against a neck. Snapshot.
And black all-consuming darkness. Her last thought was: What an inopportune time!
Five minutes later, half-hour, three hours . . . time had been
lost. Jillian’s eyes burst open, still holding on to the towel bar. The burning
bile slowly moved back down her esophagus, but the heat that encased her body
still consumed her. She took two very slow and deep breaths and looked up at
the mirror. What the hell was that?
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