Falling For The Surrogate

Liza's POV

My mother always told me that things happened for a reason, that everything in this world that ever happened had its purpose of occurring.

But perhaps that was her way of consoling me for the person I am, or the person she was, because now that I think of it, I would be fucked up if I wasn't told that the reason my cat died was that she served her purpose to me by helping me through my loneliness while my father worked extra shifts and my mother did nothing other than lazy around in the house.

I would have been messed up if I figured out that not everything really had a purpose for happening. Life was just shitty. It takes away something, or someone you spent years attaching yourself to in just a matter of few seconds, and it would be like it had never even existed in the first place.

And then you grieve, and cry and beat yourself up about it- but there is nothing you can do to save it again. It would be downright irrevocable. But then you have two choices.

It was either you accept it and go through the pain until you grow out of it and the pain isn't gnawing at you anymore or you live with it, feeling the pain every single day and dying from the inside slowly without you even realizing it.

They would both be your choices, which of course are the only choices if you decide you still want to be breathing the air our planet earth provides us with.

Just two days ago, the most traumatic event unraveled itself right in front of me. And no, it wasn't my mother dying because she had OD'ed nearly a decade ago and collapsed in the gutter of our neighborhood at night until another crackhead found her lifeless and called for help.

Also, no, it wasn't my father. He left us the night before she

died because he was sick and tired of all the responsibilities he was carrying while both I and my mother did nothing to support him or even acknowledge his hard work.

I don't really blame him anymore now that I'm an adult myself. I would do the same thing if I lived in the greenhouse toxic-level prison that was my first home.

With a drug addict wife that stole from him at any chance she got and a child like me with a terrible case of learning disorder, he didn't have much of a choice at that point in his life because he was also young and had many opportunities waiting for him instead, he was stuck with us.

Despite all the money he paid for my fees and extra classes, I still come out with the least position. All that frustration was pent up and just one day, he decided he couldn't take it anymore. And she also decided she couldn't take it anymore the next day, so she overdosed and killed herself without thinking twice about what the future would hold for her.

Just two days ago, I saw my whole life crumble right in front of me. By my whole life, I mean my business. One who had been sustaining me for a really long time because I long realized that I'm not built for the education system. Fashion designing is my calling, not sitting in an office and waiting to be paid twelve times in a span of a whole three hundred and sixty-five days.

That wasn't my portion. It wasn't my calling. I sometimes thanked God that my parents weren't around to pressure me to be a doctor or lawyer or whatever. I chose my career path by myself and built it from scratch, so it was pretty damn painful when I saw it all crumble into ashes when I had just taken a loan to renovate it.

I'm pretty sure this didn't have a reason for happening. Because I am not a bad person. I mean, other people might deserve to have their whole business burnt down to the ground because of how God-awful people they are but I don't.

I am just the regular innocent girl from Seattle. I have my apartment- which I may not even be able to afford anymore, and I have a pet. No relationship whatsoever and zero amount of friends. My life just revolved around me and my Nirvana- who was in a sorry state of ashes right now.

I twirled my drink around with my straw as I watched the people from the club dance like they had no worries in the world when in reality, they are just here to escape from the harsh ordeal that is their lives. I was here to do the same thing because I was too tired of staying behind doors and thinking- or obsessing over what my life would look like in the next month.

When you have no family to run back to, or no true friends to rely on, life just gets ugly for you when in times of need. I would move back to Boston if I knew the address of my family relatives, but I don't. I would also try getting a job somewhere if I hadn't dropped out of college because of my then boyfriend that promised me the world- if I had married him.

I didn't even want to think about that because it sends me into a lower place than I already am right now. As the clock ticked by, it was getting clearer that I just have myself and only that left in the world.

I looked over at the bartender and ordered another virgin mojito in hushed tones because honestly, it was a bit embarrassing for a grown-up woman like me to be taking anything other than alcohol in a club.

But I promised myself to always remain sober because again, I only had myself to fall back to and I don't trust myself in a drunken state. Some actions can only be done when you know that you have someone to care for you and make sure you are okay when you are indeed not okay.

"Something wrong?" A man asked as he sat on the chair next to me. From where I was sitting, his profile was the only feature of him I could see clearly because the lightning was awfully dim.

I rose a brow in reply to the question he just asked. Just then, the strobe lights were turned on and the club was suddenly bright. Too bright.

I closed my eyes with my hands, and so did everybody else because of how blinding it was. I suddenly got irritated by it, but the rest weren't quite bothered because of the ridiculous amount of booze in their systems.

When I opened my eyes, I was caught off guard by the man seating just right next to me. My breath caught in my throat, as tension built in my stomach, followed by the rush of adrenaline that spread throughout my body.

Jesus. He was hot. His hair was done in a very just-woke-up-from-sleep style which made me instantly fantasize about how my fingers would feel running through it.

I could tell he was checking me out too. His discerning gaze bathed all over me, from my face to my long auburn hair, to my full breasts, and my highly fuck-able dress.

It was one that he could easily rip off with his thick muscle veined hands. I could feel my lady parts tickle already, and he hadn't even spoken a word after what he had just said.

I could bet my arms and legs I heard him whisper a 'wow' under his breath. Or that might just be me but either way, my brain felt more mashed up than the potatoes I ate this morning in the restaurant opposite my apartment. I took in a deep breath to calm myself down.

"Hello," I whispered silently. He took his shameless gaze off my body and focused on my face. I could tell he had stripped me down to my last lacy underwear just by the look on his face.

"Hi." He replied, running his fingers down his rich mahogany-colored hair. "Why aren't you drinking? This is a club, not a graduation party."

The bartender brought my virgin mojito right on cue and I quickly gripped it like it was my birthright.

"I don't drink." I simply said as I took one swig of it, and already downed all of it. It made me slightly embarrassed, and even more when he chuckled. His smile made my knees weak.

He had a dimple on his left cheek, and his eyes creased for a fleeting moment. It had to be the most attractive thing I have seen all year long.

"And why don't you drink?"

"Because I have no one to look out for me when I drink," I blurted out but regretted it almost immediately. He could be an ax murderer for all I know, and I just told him something that would make me more of a victim. "I should head home."

"Calm down, spitfire. It's just 10 pm." He held me back with a hand which ignited something it shouldn't in my body because right then, I noticed a giant diamond wedding ring on his finger.

So he was married all this time and he checked me out like that. Men are despicable. Dogs. The handsome hunk suddenly didn't look very attractive to me.

"You are married." I voiced out rather disappointedly.

"Yeah," he replied letting go of my arm. "Five years ago." He said as a smile made its way to his lips proudly.

Okay, maybe him checking me out some minutes ago was just in my head because it would be hard to believe a man that felt this way just by the thought of him being married would find any female attractive.

"Wow, that's cool," I answered as I sat back on my chair. I felt at ease but also disappointed now that I know that he is married because all I could think of right now is what his cock looked like.

What it would feel like the inside of me. Was it as beautiful as he was? Was it as veined and thick as his hunky muscles were? Was it dark or was it pink? I had so many questions running through my mind now and it felt disappointing that I might never find out, or get my answers to the questions.

"You in a relationship?" He asked.

"No." I shook my head.

It was a touchy subject for me.

Ever since I was duped back in college with the illusion called 'love', I doubt if I could allow myself to feel it again. Because at the end of the day, it wasn't worth it. All it would result in is deep pain and insecurities that would consume you so much as anything had ever before.

And after some time when your eyes are cleared, you go looking for someone that would make you feel the same way again, and try to convince yourself that it would be different this time when you know for a fact that you are just deceiving yourself. It was just an ugly circle of lies, deception, and pain with only a few moments of true happiness.

His eyebrows rose in shock, "The single men in Seattle are fools." He said and I found myself blushing embarrassingly as I have never been complimented before.

"All Seattle men want to do is fuck. Goodnight stranger." I stood up from my seat and left the club as fast as my little legs could take me.

He was making my guard loose and I was afraid I would spill another one or two secrets before the night was over. It was good talking to him because for the first time in the last 48 hours since the incident with Nirvana happened, I wasn't obsessing over the ordeal I was going through.