The Perfect Man

My reflection stared back at me as I looked down into my mug of coffee. Cold coffee. We had been sitting here for what felt like hours. My leg bounced restlessly. I couldn’t look up– I knew whose eyes were waiting. His deep brown eyes, the chiseled jawline, the slight dip in the bridge of his nose; he was perfect. And yet, I hated him.

I choked down a sip of the bitter, cold coffee, needing to taste something other than the bile rising in my throat.

“Tell me the truth, Nicholas.”

And there it was again. Just how many times did he plan on repeating that stupid, meaningless phrase? I told him the truth; I had been for 2 months. It was him who insisted on denying something that made him out to be anything less than he thought of himself to be. And, honestly, he wasn’t wrong. Who would cheat on such a disgustingly perfect man? Why would anyone even think about crawling into bed with someone else? I held back a chuckle. I would.

My gaze finally met his as I sat my mug down. A small smirk grew on my face, which was nothing compared to the sneer I choked back. “The truth? The truth is exactly what it looks like. I’ve been fucking other men behind your back, and God, I have been for a while now. Get off your high horse, Jude. You’re not the only one who gets to have the perfect life.”

I leaned back in my chair, watching the way his face contorted, the way the color drained from his perfect face. There it was. The crack in his perfection. For the first time in months, my guilt vanished. I felt something more forgiving. I felt free.


296 words.