“I’m not rejecting you, Baylor. I just want to wait till we are both sober and this is what you want.”
Someone yells out “pussy,” and she starts to laugh as she glares at me.
I shake my head, looking away, anger bubbling inside me as Jude yells, “Fuck off, asshole. Get out of here.”
Baylor throws her hands up though, pointing at me. “No, that guy’s right. You are a fucking pussy, but whatever, I didn’t want you anyway. You were just there, convenient and easy.” A few people laugh at that and oooh all together like a bunch of high schoolers. “You couldn’t satisfy me anyway,” she throws at me, and I know she doesn’t mean it.
She’s holding in the tears, she’s visibly hurt, and I do everything to ignore her words. I hurt her, I get that. In her eyes, I rejected her, and maybe I did, but I did it because I care. She obviously doesn’t want to hear that or doesn’t care, for that matter. I know that if I don’t get her out of here, she’s gonna embarrass herself more than she already has. It’s all my fault, and I know that I’ve ruined everything between us, but I never meant to hurt her. I really didn’t, but now I know that I’m about to make her hate me.
Looking up, I meet her heated gaze and I laugh, like the dick she thinks I am. Shaking my head, I say, “Don’t lie to kick it, baby girl. You were basically dry humping me in there, and I had to escape.”
Her jaw drops as she glares, her shoulders going back in a taut, angry way. “I was doing no such thing. You’ve been begging to fuck me all day.”
“No, I don’t beg for pussy—it’s given to me willingly. You are the one who was begging me,” I say back, and I see Mandie turning red with her own anger.
“Baylor, let’s go,” she says, pulling on Baylor’s arm, but she rips it away, taking a step toward me. “He’s not worth it!”
Pointing her finger in my face, she seethes, “You’re a fucking asshole, poor excuse for a man, shitty second-string hockey player who won’t go anywhere in life because you’re too strung-up on your fucked-up daddy issues.”
Wow. This escalated very quickly.
“Whoa, what the hell? He is helping you out, so you don’t re—” Before Jude can finish, I stop him, placing my hand on his chest and shaking my head.
“Baylor, that’s enough. Come on,” Mandie says, trying to get a grip on her hand, but she won’t let her.
She’s hurting so badly, and nothing I say or anyone says will make this better. I hate to do this to her, but I know it’s the only way she’ll leave. I don’t want her to hurt any more than she already does, but what else am I supposed to do? But also I can’t stand here and take this. Yeah, I brought this on myself. I could have handled it a different way, but I was trying to do right by her. I didn’t know it would end like this.
So taking a step toward her, I put the last nail in my coffin.
“Yeah, maybe so, but at least my mom wanted me,” I say, and I regret the words as soon as t
hey leave my mouth. “We’re done here. Get the fuck out of my house.”
Shock fills her face, but just as quickly as it came, it’s replaced with rage. When she pulls back, her fist coming toward my face, I could have stopped her. I mean, she was moving in slow motion. But in a way, I deserve her fist connecting with my mouth. The room falls silent as my head whips back and pain explodes in my mouth, my head. I feel like I’m gonna puke from the lead taste of blood in my mouth, and I fully expect to open my eyes to her retreating back. But when I open my eyes, she is glaring up at me, tears flooding her beautiful eyes. I drink her in because I’m pretty sure this is the last time I’ll ever see her face.
“Fuck you,” she seethes, and I nod as she turns on her heel, pushing through the group that has gathered around us.
I want to be mad, I want to hate her, but I can’t. She is the one person who has gotten under my skin, challenged me, and I know I’ll walk away from this a better person.
Just from knowing her. But I’m pretty sure she’ll probably hate me for the rest of her life
But in some sick, comforting way, at least I know she’ll never forget me.
Ever.
Dragging a puck from the pile that’s in front of me, I suck in a breath. Lining up, I let it out the breath before I shake out my wrist. Glancing at the pipe before looking back down, I then roll the puck along my blade before transferring my weight back and shooting, pinging the puck off the side of the pipe.
I’m working on my wrist shot.
No reason, of course.
Just felt like it while I wait for Baylor to show up. I might be a tad bit delusional thinking she’ll show up. Some may even say I’m insane to assume she’d come after saying what I did to her, but I’m hopeful. I’m praying that somewhere during the night, she realized that I said it because I had to. That she wasn’t going to leave until I did. I had no choice. I was trying to protect her in a way. I don’t know. Needless to say, I fucked it all up, and I’m out here trying not to think about it. But failing.
Miserably.
I just can’t get that look out of my head. The way her eyes went wide, the tears welling up in them before she whipped back and cocked me one. I deserved it, I won’t deny that, but I’ll never forget that look. Hell, I’ll never forget her. That’s just absurd to think I would. To assume such a stupid thing. Someone like that, you don’t forget. You just can’t.
When the side door opens, I look up to see Jude coming out and down the stairs with his stick. He tried to talk to me last night, but I shut that down quickly and stayed locked up in my room. I tried to sleep, but all I could do was see the hurt in her eyes, the shock and deceit that was in them when I said what I did. I regret it. I wish I had talked to her about what I was feeling. I’m sure she might have agreed with me, but then I felt like she was too gone. I wish I could have been man enough to tell her that we shouldn’t do it and trust that I could walk her out. Instead, everything blew up in my face when all I was trying to do was do right by her.