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I scoff before shaking my head back and forth while ignoring the mistake who’s still hanging out in our freaking apartment. "And that's supposed to make me feel better? Really? That's the apology you want to go with?"
"That came out wrong––"
"No it didn't. It came out the exact way that it was supposed to."
"Look, if you would just let me explain––"
"Fine.” I cross my arms. “Go for it. I want to hear aaaaalll about the late night text messages, the cancelled dates, the no-shows at work when I had to lie to your brother’s face because you were too inconsiderate to show up for your shift. Or maybe you can tell me why I came home to see a girl in our kitchen with wet hair while you were finishing up in the shower with the bathroom door wide open. Would you like me to go on?"
He groans before rubbing his hand across his tired face. "Listen––"
"Nope. I changed my mind. I'm done. Like... done done. Now move out of the way before I really do hit you in the balls like I desperately want to."
"You won't even let me talk!" he snaps. His anger is finally boiling over, but right now I really don't give a damn.
Going head to head with the beast in front of me, I spit, "That's because I don't care what you have to say."
I can see the indecision on his face. The slight twitch of his lip, begging to curl in disgust. The tension in his jaw. The iciness in his gaze. Still, I hold strong and refuse to cower. He really is an ass. After another few tense seconds, he caves, and moves over a few inches.
"Don't be a bitch, Reese. It's not sexy."
There's a small gap between him and the door, but I know I'll have to touch him if I have any hopes of squeezing through it. Which is exactly what he wants. To make me squirm. To make me uncomfortable. To make me feel weak.
How did I not see what a bully he is?
I shift my gaze from the tiny gap and up to his red face. "We both know you've never seen me as sexy, so why should I start caring now? I’m the cute girl, remember? The girl next door. Isn’t that what you told me? That I might not be sexy, but I was still screwable? You know what, never mind. I don’t really care what you think anymore. Tell your brother that I’m sorry, but I quit."
“You can’t quit.”
“Yes, I most definitely can. Thanks for your input though,” I return sarcastically. “I really appreciate it.”
His jaw tightens. “What am I supposed to tell him? He needs you––”
“No offense, but I don’t think that’s my problem anymore. Maybe you can convince your little friend over there” ––I wave my hand toward the skank in the kitchen–– “to handle the books free of charge while answering the phone like I did for your brother. She seems like quite the thinker.”
Ignoring my snide remark, he drops his voice low. “We’ll talk later, Reese.”
“Like I said, I’m done talking. Goodbye, Ian.”
Holding my breath, I continue our little game of chicken and squeeze through the crack between the doorway and his chest. When my butt grazes his towel covered crotch, my spine straightens.
He used to love make up sex. Said it was the best part about being in a relationship.
Now it just makes me wonder why he was in one in the first place if that was the only benefit in his eyes. Although, I’m sure it didn’t hurt that I helped his brother with his accounting while we were dating. Maybe that was just an added perk.
Doesn’t take the sting away or the fact that I’ve never felt lower in my entire life. How long has been juggling multiple women and why I was stupid enough to believe he actually cared about me?
Because the answer is simple.
He didn't.
***
With my phone pressed to my ear, I curse under my breath. "Come on, Milo. Answer your freaking phone."
"This is Milo,” the recording starts. “If you're hearing this, then I probably didn't want to pick up the phone. Text me."
Beep.
