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“We’re not together, Kristen. I told you I wasn’t doing this with you anymore.”
“You said that before, Nic, but you came back to me.” She crosses the room to me, arms trying to close around my waist. I put my hands on her shoulders to stop her from coming closer. Undeterred, she runs a hand down my chest and smiles. “You can’t deny that we’re good together, baby. Come to bed with me. Let me remind you how good I make you feel.”
“No.” I ease her back gently.
Thankfully, she keeps her distance, but both of her brows pinch together, and her mouth turns into a thin line at my gentle rebuff. She crosses her arms over her chest in a protective gesture that makes no sense considering she’s the one propositioning me in my bedroom.
“What’s your problem? Everything was going so great with us until a few weeks ago. We were getting back on track! Working our way back to each other, back to where we were before you lost your fucking mind and broke up with me!”
She plops down on the edge of my bed and glances up at me with teary eyes.
What? In what world were we working our way back to each other? Having casual sex is nowhere near trying to reconcile.
I brace both hands behind my head, and my threaded fingers dig into my scalp. “That was never the plan, Kris. You said you wanted a casual situation after we broke up, and I was good with that for a while, but I’m not anymore. I want more for me and quite frankly you deserve more than I could ever give you.”
“I don’t want more, Nic. I want you!”
Tears spill over her cheeks as she searches the room for something to shield herself from the truth of my words. I hate seeing her cry, even more so while she’s naked and vulnerable on my bed. I cross the room, turning my back to her while I rummage through my dresser and pull out a shirt and some shorts for her to put on.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, probably a message from Sloane wondering what’s taking me so long, and frustration bubbles in my chest. I want to get back to her, to go back to the magic of our night together before Hurricane Kristen swept in.
Making your own storm and getting mad when it rains? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, huh?
It takes everything in me not to look at my phone, to keep Sloane waiting again, but all of my attention needs to be on Kristen right now. Getting her calm. Getting her out of my apartment, so I can get back to Sloane.
The room is quiet as I make my way back to the bed. Kristen’s unanswered confession hangs in the air between us. I place the clothes in her hands, and she stares angry daggers into the space above my head.
“I’m sorry.” I say, backing away to give her some space. “Put the clothes on, Kris. I’ll be in the living room.”
A sarcastic snort leaves her as I walk towards the door. Then the sound of glass shattering on the left side of my head rings in my ears. I turn towards the noise just in time to see a framed picture of me and my mom clattering to the floor. Frozen, I stare at the glass shards scattered over the image. It’s from the last birthday I got to celebrate with her before she died.
She recruited Eric to keep me busy all day, so she and Mama could decorate our small yard with balloons and streamers and other cheesy decorations for a surprise party. No one knew my dad had ruined the surprise earlier in the week during a rant about how worthless I was, so they didn’t catch the disgusting smirk on his face when he watched me pretend I was surprised just for my mom’s sake.
The picture laying on the ground was taken right after I walked in. My mom’s frail arms are wrapped around my torso, and she’s beaming up at me, looking beautiful even though her hair had long since fallen out and the treatments kept her rail-thin.
Annoyance flares in my chest, and it’s narrowly beaten out by the shock simmering in my veins. I’ve always known Kristen had a temper, but she’s never been violent or cruel like this. A triumphant grin twists her features as she comes back around to the foot of the bed. The clothes I just gave her lay discarded on the floor as she struts past me.
“A temper tantrum.” I follow her out into the living room. “How mature.”
Wary of having yet another one of my belongings thrown at me, I give her a wide berth. Tension rolls off of her in waves as she slides on her coat and fastens the belt.
“You’re so full of shit, you know that?” She hisses at me. “You think you’re such a fucking gentleman, such a good man, but you’re just like every other asshole out there, Nic. Using women up, making them fall in love with you and then tossing them to the side when they aren’t any good to you anymore.”
I stare at her, keeping my expression carefully blank at her gross miscategorization of our relationship. We were never perfect—didn’t have a chance to be when my heart was so damn wrapped up in Sloane it could never truly be hers—and it wasn’t smart for me to agree to this friends with benefits thing, but I never used her.
The annoyance flaring in my chest expands to a dangerous level. “I never used you.”
She snatches her purse off of the couch, and I marvel silently at all the indications of her presence that I missed walking in here because I was so eager to get back to Sloane.
“Keep telling yourself that. I’m sure the bitch you’re seeing now will feel the same way in a few months when you’re done stomping all over her heart.”
The protective beast in my chest snarls, raging at the word ‘bitch’ being used in reference to Sloane even if Kristen doesn’t know that’s who she’s talking about. My mind goes to the woman waiting for me outside of my building, and my jaw hardens.
“You need to go. Please leave my key on the table by the door.” I return harshly, and then because I’m not a complete asshole. “Get home safe, Kris. I’ll call tomorrow to check on you.”
Her face crumples, sadness joining the misdirected anger etched in her features as she digs the key out of her purse and launches it at me.
“Fuck you, Nic.”
