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Kylie Jenner and Tyga really can't seem to quit each other!

So the night Ryan let his hand linger on my arm after walking me to my car left me reeling. Life continued in its usual doddering fashion until the night a group of co-workers from Ryan’s office invited me out for drinks at the bar next door. Pool was played, darts were thrown and unfortunately, Jagermeister was ingested. After several minutes that ticked by slower than the mini-eternities I spent in my algebra class, Ryan reached across the table, took my face in his delicately masculine hands, pulled me gently toward him, and said, "I think I'm falling in love with you."And then he kissed me. I stayed through painful months of having to babysit his children as he went to ritzy soirees with his wife. But don't make a scene and don't let Jenna catch you glaring at him. If I can keep her happy throughout this whole ordeal, it will end faster.

I was four rows away when Ryan happened to glance up. They stretched into the most pretend smile I've ever smiled and I trilled, "Ryyyyyannn! I hiccupped, gasping for air like a small child who has just finished throwing a convulsive tantrum. Not able to face myself any longer, I floundered back to my bed and fell heavily onto the mattress.

I splashed water across my mottled face and I caught sight of myself in the bathroom mirror. I hated the stupid, stupid girl who had tolerated this relationship. Moaning, I rolled over and looked at the alarm clock on my nightstand.

Ryan had moved out of his family home and he and his wife were officially separated, but there was no divorce on the horizon. The adrenaline rocketing through my body caused my right leg to jitter up and down. I did a quick scan for feminine items: lip gloss, a purse, a jacket, something a wife would leave behind. My voice sounded harsh, like the manual pencil sharpeners from elementary school that chewed the ends of yellow number twos.

I couldn't see it even if I shaded my eyes from the sun and squinted really hard. I don't want my children to get hurt,” he’d respond. The girl that dates a married man and thinks he's going to divorce his wife for her. I stamped my heel to the floor of the car to try and quell the tremors. Within minutes, Melissa was already hustling across the street, exploding into the car. Once we parked, my legs were shaking so badly I could barely climb the steps leading to the imposing structure.

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As I got closer, I could hear him discussing the game with the couple in the two seats between his and the stairway. My appearance at the Jazz games he had shared with his wife for nearly fifteen years was so out of context he could only grimace uncertainly. I curled into a fetal position, clutched my stomach and buried my face into my pillow to drown the howling. I skittered drunkenly for the bathroom and spewed the contents of my stomach into the toilet. It felt good and I did it again."You deserve that you stupid b*tch." I slurred at myself.

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