Find Me Alastar

“I know why you didn’t call me,” she replies.

My hurt eyes hold hers.

“The same reason I wouldn’t call you every time I found out my ex had slept with another girl. You

feel ashamed that someone you love could be like this, could treat you like this.”

My heart drops. I knew she didn’t tell me a lot back then, but I never dreamt that the shoe would ever

be on the other foot.

She holds my hand in both of hers. “We will get though this. Come and stay with me for a while.”Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

“What about Mr. Masters?”

“He won’t be a problem.”

“Why is that?”

“Let’s just say that Mr. Masters is behaving this week.” She smirks sneakily.

My eyes widen. “You slept with him?”

“No.”

I roll my eyes.

“But we did have a talk.”

“About what?” I ask.

“About his attraction to me. He finally admitted it.”

I smile my first true smile in four days. “I’m okay, honestly. I will stay at my apartment.”

Her stare holds mine. “I know you are going to be okay, Emerson. You are a tough chick and this is

just a speed bump in life.”

I smile gratefully. I needed to hear that, because in all honesty, I have never felt so weak.

“You know… men are all assholes,” she mutters as she picks up her drink and sips it.

I nod sadly.

“Although serial killer dating is taking it to a whole new level of assholism.” She accentuates her

point with a raised brow.

I smirk and cover my face with my hands. “Do you believe this shit?” I murmur.

She shakes her head. “No. Actually, I don’t. On the upside, you do get to come to soccer practice

tonight.”

I look at her. “Oh… goody. It’s so worth it. I can’t wait.”

The week has been long, and to tell you truth, I don’t remember much of it. It’s all a blur. Meeting with the

police over the stolen art and lying to their faces while I stared into space. Pretending to work while I

stared into space. Pretending to be alive when I am clearly half dead, and I haven’t let on to anybody that I

know who stole the art. The only thing that has brought a smile to my face was when I received a delivery

and I thought that it was Alastar with an explanation. A large box was delivered. I was so excited and

ripped it open, only to be disappointed when just my drawing pad and the letters from Alchron to his

princess were inside. Why would he send me just those things? I want answers, not my fucking

belongings. Brielle’s trying to cheer me up and I’m going out of my mind by replaying my last

conversation with Alastar.

You need to work this out for yourself.

What did he mean by that?

What would I possibly have to work out?

I didn’t go to the police. I lied to Brielle and told her I called them, but I couldn’t go through with it. I

dialed their number a few times only to hang up every time they answered. I can’t send him to prison and

I’m scared I am putting my life in danger by doing so.

What choice do I have? How do you turn on someone you are desperately in love with? If I knew for

sure he wasn’t dangerous, I would be back in his arms and stealing the art right alongside of him in an

instant.

I’m losing it, I know.

It’s Friday night and I am with my work friends at a pub in my usual zombie state. We are playing

trivia and are seated in low seats surrounding an open fire. As I stare into the open flame, I can almost

feel Alastar’s warm arms wrapped around me from behind, his gentle loving kisses on my face, and his

hard body slotted up next to mine. For the rest of my life, I don’t think I will ever be able to sit next to a

fire and not think of him and the precious time we spent together. My work friends have been a blessing

this week, as if sensing my fragility. They have all been super attentive and funny. I appreciate every

single moment of their time.

The question gets called out. “Who is the artist that sang Tainted Love.”

“Oh God.” Deidre pats her forehead. “I know this.” Everyone starts whispering with their

suggestions.