Winning My Ex-Crush

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I texted Fenella briefly and waited for a few minutes, but she hadn’t replied yet. Uncertain, after a day passed without any news on Saturday, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I was taken aback by all the changes that had occurred in Fenella.

She was no longer the vulnerable girl overshadowed by bullies. She had a successful career, her beauty had blossomed, and she had become skilled in lovemaking.

The thought of other men being intimate with her makes me mad. Each time I imagined her with someone else, a mix of anger and pain surged in my chest and neck.

How many men had touched her? How often did she engage in lovemaking? Did her ex satisfy her every time? How many times did she reach climax in one session? Who took her virginity?

These questions consumed my mind, fueling a burning jealousy within me. It felt like a fire burning with kindling and charcoal, consuming my heart.

Fenella seemed to occupy my thoughts constantly. Memories of our childhood, our first kiss, and our prom night kept resurfacing, especially the night we made love for the first time.

I missed her.

As my phone notification rang, I set down my beer glass and picked up the phone from the sofa to read Fenella’s reply message:

‘Hi, Laird. Today went great!’

‘The office event was amazing, but it was more tiring than I expected.’

‘How was your weekend?’

A smile graced my face as I read her message. I replied, my focus solely on the phone, disregarding the TV playing in front of me:

‘Today was dull. I missed drinking with the famous model.’

‘Glad your event went well.’

‘Tell me more about your day.’

I watched as Fenella typed a response. Sipping my beer, I noticed the Red Sox scoring a home run in the third inning on TV. Cheering, I glanced back at my phone. The message tone interrupted my focus once more; it was from Fenella:

‘Well, there was a welcoming party for the new owner of my model agency.’

‘Then my new boss had all the models showcase their talents for the selection of the main model to replace Yuri Wu.’

Reading her message, I furrowed my brow. Maybe Fenella forgot that I wasn’t familiar with the model industry. I didn’t know who Yuri Wu was, and her message was somewhat hard for me to grasp. Sensing there were more stories behind her texts, I decided to switch off the TV and dial Fenella’s number.

“Hey,” I said as she answered on the fourth ring.

“Hi, Laird,” Fenella replied.

“It seems like you have a lot to share about today,” I said with a wry smile.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, I find it hard to explain in writing.” Fenella’s soft laughter echoed through the phone.

It seemed like the old Fenella still lingered within her. She always felt more comfortable speaking than writing, which was reflected in her academic essays being rated poorly compared to her verbal presentations.

The hope kindled within me, hoping to rediscover the Fenella who once cared for me and mend our relationship to its former state.

“It’s alright. I understand. Even though I’m really curious to hear your story, unfortunately, I can’t come to meet you.”

“Why is that?” Fenella asked.

“You seem tired, and I have a morning meeting with a client tomorrow. That’s why I decided to just call you.”

Fenella fell silent for a while, then cleared her throat.

“Alright. I’ll start with this morning’s event,” Fenella said calmly.

For over half an hour, I listened to how Fenella’s day unfolded. There were several key points I could grasp.

Firstly, I might have a new competitor. Fenella’s new boss, Alan, seemed very interested in her. Secondly, Fenella would be extremely busy until next week with preparations for a party event. Thirdly, Fenella would be even busier if she signed as the main model at her agency.

“Hey, that’s good news. Do you need help reviewing the contract later? Maybe we can negotiate some risky clauses for you,” I offered my assistance.

“Will you help me? Oh, no, wait. I don’t have the money to pay for your services as a lawyer. You must work at an expensive and prestigious firm,” Fenella teased. I chuckled for a moment.

“Not that expensive. I’m still a new lawyer,” I humbly replied.

“Don’t you have your own firm?” Fenella asked.

“Of course not. It’s not that easy to open your own firm. I need a partner, capital, and a reputable name to be trusted by clients. I’ve only been a lawyer for six months, just so you know,” I chuckled lightly.

“Well, I’m sure your name will soar as a lawyer. With your brilliant mind, handsomeness, and integrity, I don’t think it will be long before you’re on TV handling big cases,” Fenella expressed her belief.

Once again, I could only laugh at Fenella’s daydreams. God, somehow Fenella always managed to amuse me. Her imagination, the determination she held, and her way of speaking sometimes left me astonished.

“No, you’re mistaken. I don’t intend to continue being a lawyer, especially not in my father’s firm,” I said with a faint smile.

“So, you’re working at your father’s firm now? In New York?” she asked, puzzled.

“Yup. He opened new branches in New York, London, and Singapore. I’m just adding my name to the list of lawyers in this branch. It won’t be long; maybe another year,” I explained slowly, realizing I was sharing my dreams with Fenella.

“Oh, I thought you were going to say you wanted to become a Red Sox athlete.”

Once again, Fenella’s words and visions of me left me amazed. I chuckled at her statement. My body relaxed again, and I lay back on my sofa, still holding the phone to my ear with one hand.

“That dream has long been shattered since I failed the athlete selection back then. Remember?”

Memories of the tough days in the summer trying out for athletic training flashed through my mind. I felt the bitter taste of significant failure, but I accepted it. Instead of stubbornly pursuing what my father opposed, I followed the path he opened for me until now.

“The only one willing to accept me with my baseball hitting ability was Harvard.”

“Oh, Harvard. Is that where you learned to satisfy women?” Fenella teased.

My eyes blinked at Fenella’s words. A smirk returned to my face. I vividly remembered Fenella’s moans when she reached climax beneath me.

“Why do you ask? Are you also keen on going to Harvard for that?” I teased her softly.

“Hm, I prefer self-learning. Jumping straight into practice has enriched me with experience.” Fenella spoke again, this time in a softer tone.

The memory of Fenella’s hand on my cock immediately elicited a reaction in my body. Coupled with jealousy as a trigger, I felt my body igniting once again.

“Is that so? So that’s why you were able to satisfy me so much?” I asked with a thin grin.

“Yes, I remember it,” Fenella whispered in my ear, tormenting me even more.

“What do you remember?” I challenged her again, raising an eyebrow.

“I remember I had given you the highest pleasure.”

God! I now had a glimmer of hope once again.

“Do you remember the moments when you reached orgasms repeatedly in the early morning?” I asked to confirm.

“Oh, don’t worry, Laird. I can tell about it all night,” Fenella sighed over the phone.