Crush Read Online Free Page A

Jayla strolled in.
    Jason continued his explanation. “There was just something about her. I don’t know what to tell you. She spoke to me. Not just with words; I’m telling you there was a vibe or a spark or something.”
    “We call that ‘sexual chemistry’ and there’s an easy fix for that. Find her, scratch the itch, and let’s be done. We have to keep our heads in the game here. No time for nonsense.”
    Jason shook his head. “It’s not just an itch, I’m telling you.”
    “Whatever, Jay, this is a ground-breaking quarter for us. We have to decide if we’re going to franchise nationwide or just broaden our local customer base. I need you at 100 percent.”
    Jason smirked; he was usually the one reminding Rick that the business came before the babes. “So you’re actually telling me it’s all work and no play?”
    “Whatever it takes.” Rick smiled back.
    “No can do. Not when you meet a woman like this.”
    “Like what?”
    “Special.”
    “From seeing her twice, you know this?”
    “You know special when you see it,” Jason said firmly. “Or rather, I know special when I see it. You’re not really concerned about that.”
    “What I don’t get—or should I say what I REALLY don’t get—is how you of all people still believe in ‘special’ women after the hell you went through with Delia.”
    Jason’s face fell at the mention of Delia. Delia was his ex-wife. He met her at Columbia. She was “that chick” on campus and he pursued her with a vengeance. Throughout their courtship, she appeared to be all the things he was looking for. And in those days he was looking for a lot, for what he thought made up the perfect mate. He had what he called the “Ten-Point Checklist” of must-haves for his future spouse. In those days, he believed that the future Mrs. Jericho needed to be model-quality gorgeous, sexually adventuresome, double-degreed, ambitious, savvy, well-traveled, impeccably dressed at all times; have a six-figure income and flawless social skills; and be from a family of means. He had been so intent on those ten things that he ignored the important five: someone who was honest, loved him for him, was attuned to his moods, knew how to communicate, and believed in mutual respect.
    Delia had been great at the ten, terrible at the five. And he’d had to find out the hard way. The day after they exchanged vows, she turned into someone he didn’t want to have a conversation with, let alone live with day in and day out. She quit her job and dedicated herself to shopping for designer clothing. She hated Chicago and constantly whined about moving back to New York.
    She was all facade and no substance. She was a shallow, selfish shell of a woman lacking in empathy, sympathy, or moral compass. He recalled his mother saying the woman was a soulless pit where evil dwelled. He really couldn’t argue with her. You name it, Delia did it. Overspend? Sleep with his friends? Terrify the housekeeping staff? Trash his Gold Coast condo? All of that and more. The more unhappy she was, the more vodka she drank. His bill from the liquor store that delivered rivaled that of a restaurant with a robust happy hour.
    A part of him wondered if it was his fault. Had he not been sensitive enough, supportive enough; had he not been clear about his expectations? Could he really not have seen that beneath the polish, there was nothing there? His parents’ marriage, his grandparents’ marriage, his uncle’s marriages were all healthy and long lasting. He thought if he just hung in there, things would get better. They didn’t.
    When the end came, it came quickly. One day after a taxi brought her home drunk, half dressed, and smelling of another man, he decided that he’d had enough. There was no reason for either of them to be this miserable and, frankly, he was bone weary of all the drama.
    The very next morning, he sat Delia down and asked her how much it would cost for her to walk away and never look back.