-vixen- Olivia Nova - Confessions - Of A Side Gir...

So I slipped out. Didn’t leave a note. Didn’t take a thing. Walked barefoot to my car in the rain because my heels were in his living room, and I wasn’t about to go back for them.

Tonight, I’ll delete his number. By next week, he’ll find a new Vixen. Younger, maybe. Blonder. It doesn’t matter. The role is the same. The confession is the same. -Vixen- Olivia Nova - Confessions Of A Side Gir...

They never put me on the lease. That was the first rule. No key to the front door, no drawer in the bathroom, no space on the shelf for my chamomile tea. I am a guest. A well-dressed, well-fucked, temporary guest. So I slipped out

Last night, Marcus fell asleep. First time. His head on my chest, snoring softly. I stared at the ceiling and felt the strangest thing: not love, not hate, but a quiet, hollow sadness. He was dreaming of her. I could tell by the way he smiled in his sleep. I am not the dream. I am the detour. Walked barefoot to my car in the rain

I am not the one he wants. I am just the one who said yes.

I learned the rules fast. Never call first. Never post a photo with his face in it. Never cry on a Tuesday because Tuesday is “family night.” Your job is to be the glitter in the gray. The silk robe in a closet full of fleece. The 2 a.m. text that says, “Come over,” not “I’m lonely.”

That’s the confession, isn’t it? The side girl isn’t a homewrecker. She’s a vacation. And every vacation has an expiration date.