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“You were drinking with her?” I ask slowly running a hand through my hair.
His silence is my answer, and I close my eyes, taking deep breaths, before slowly reopening my eyes.
“I hope your happy, Cuba, I really do.” My voice shakes. “You warned me, and I fell anyway, you won.”
“No, baby.” His voice his so low I barely hear it. “No, I’m only happy with you, only you.”
“No.” I shake my head. “You had a girl in your room. A girl that wasn’t me. I knew better.” My eyes leave his. “It’s over, please back away so I can leave.”
“So that it?” Cuba’s voice turns cold. “You’re just going to throw away everything because you won’t let me explain?”
It’s like déjà vu when I look to him, his hazel eyes are turning red, and the veins in his neck are pulsing.
“You threw everything away the moment you let her step in your room.” I stress, because he’s not understanding. “Please move.”
He doesn’t move. He stands there staring at me, breathing heavy.
“You don't get to do that,” he yells at me. “You don't get to break down my walls, you don't get to know my darkest secrets, you don't get to make me love you and just walk away.” His voice chokes. “You don't get to just leave me, Arrow.”
My tears betray me, and one falls, I quickly wipe it away but more fall.
“And you,” tears run down my face, “you don't get to kill me after I slaughtered all your demons,” I say softly. “And you don’t get to break me.”
His eyes water and I want to wipe the tear that falls away, but I don’t. I won’t dare touch him.
“Let me explain, please,” he tries again. “She used to date Jackson.”
Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I shake my head. “Is that supposed to make it all better?” I choke out a laugh. “You can’t keep throwing him up for every excuse!”
He doesn’t say anything but swallows the visible lump in his throat. My hand goes to my arrow charm and I rub it like I always do.
“My grandpa gave me this necklace, said it was cupid’s arrow. It was my grandmothers. She wore it when she married my grandpa, like my mom wore it when she married my dad.” I smile fondly. “It was my turn now. I grew obsessed with arrows when I was little, my cupids arrow. He was supposed to shoot the one for me.” My smile falters. “Instead, he handed the arrow to the wrong one, just so he could shoot me in the heart with it.”
We don’t say anything for a moment and I don’t want to hear his excuses. “I have to go.” It’s barely a whisper from my tear-soaked lips.
Cuba looks defeated and nods, taking a few steps back. His eyes glass over and I force myself to look away.
“I hope she was worth it,” I say before pressing the button, the doors closing soon after.
My chest hurts, and my legs give out, making me fall to the floor. Tears are rushing out, and I don’t wipe them away. I want to cry out in agony, I want to throw up, I just want to lay here and fall apart. He broke me. He lied to me. He betrayed me.
Loving him had consequences, I knew he would hurt me. I just hoped like hell he wouldn’t. I was rooting for him. I was rooting for us.
I scramble to my feet before the elevator opens with a ding.
Cam and Ash are standing there, they stop talking once they notice me. I can’t imagine what I look like.
Unclasping my necklace that he gave me from around my neck, I hand it to Cam. “Give this to him please.”
He takes it from me slowly. “What happened?” They both looked concerned, but they are his friends, not mine.
“Ask him.” I push past them, wiping my eyes. “Thanks for the key.”
Keeping my head low, I pass the rest of his team, some of them send me strange looks, other say my name, but I don’t stop, and I don’t say anything back. The only thing I am focused on is getting out of here, away from him.
I don’t remember getting home early this morning. I don’t remember climbing into my bed. I don’t remember much at all, but I do remember that I left my broken heart in San Diego. Last night replays in my head over and over. He was with someone else. Maybe that’s why he didn’t push for me to be at the game, hoping that little gesture before the game would somehow put me at ease. I’m just as confused as the first time I met him months ago, and I hate it. The more he tried to explain, the worse it got, and I couldn’t believe him. No matter how he tried to spin it, the fact remains that he knew better.
Rolling over on my side, I look at my clock, it’s almost noon. I should be on my way to see my parents, but I don’t want them to see me red and puffy eyed. Also, I don’t want their worried looks or have to talk about what happened. When I’m ready to tell them about the break up, I will, it’s just too raw right now.
