Can’t make it. Family thing. I’m sorry, Vixen.
Because confessions, she’d learned, were the only thing that kept you from disappearing completely. Would you like a darker twist, a more romantic ending, or a continuation of Gina’s journal entries? -Vixen- Gina Valentina - Confessions Of A Side ...
Her apartment was small but hers—a studio in a part of town where neighbors minded their business and the landlord never asked questions. On the nightstand: a half-empty glass of red wine, a crumpled pack of American Spirits, and a Moleskine notebook she’d titled Confessions of a Side Piece three months ago. She’d laughed when she wrote it. Now it felt less like a joke and more like a survival guide. Can’t make it
She didn’t reply. Instead, she opened the notebook and began to write. Confession #14: I don’t actually love him. I love the version of myself that he gets to see. The one without groceries to buy or rent to pay. The one who laughs at his jokes and doesn’t ask where he was last night. But that woman isn’t real. And neither is his promise to leave her. She closed the notebook and reached for her wine. Tomorrow, she’d delete his number. Tomorrow, she’d pack up the silk robe he liked and donate it. Tomorrow, she’d stop being the side piece. Because confessions, she’d learned, were the only thing
She hated waiting. But that was her role, wasn’t it? The side piece doesn’t set the schedule. The side piece waits.
Vixen. That’s what he called her when he wanted to make her feel wild and untamed. But she knew the truth: a vixen is just a fox that hasn’t been caught yet.
Gina Valentina (nicknamed “Vixen” by those who think they know her) Gina checked her phone for the fifth time in ten minutes. No text. No missed call. Just the glow of the lockscreen reflecting her own impatience back at her.