“I know.” He rushed up beside me, holding his arms up. “I’ll stop. I swear. And I’m sorry, okay?”
“No. Not okay.”
He pulled his palm down his face before righting the collar of his Polo shirt. “I’m sorry. I was just holding on to hope that we’ll be able to work through all this shit the way we always did in the past.”
I crossed my arms, unamused, and it literally hurt my fucking eyes to look at him.
“I won’t bother you again, I swear,” he continued. “I get it now. It’s over.”
His expression fell, and if I wasn’t so hardened by the stunt he pulled, I might have felt sorry for him. But unfortunately, I didn’t.
“There’s still some of your stuff in my car. You can take it now, and we won’t have to see each other again.”
“I’m pretty sure there’s nothing of mine in your car. You bought a new car I haven’t even been in.”
“I’m not here with the Lamborghini. There’s a pink cardigan in the back of my Audi. And the extra pair of shoes you always insisted on keeping in the trunk.” His lips curled in a smirk as if he thought he knew me really fucking well just because he knew I always had an extra pair of shoes wherever I went. I was caught unprepared once before when the strap of my shoes broke, and I had to either wear a pair of sneakers with a cocktail dress or go barefoot. To make things worse, it was homecoming.
“Fine,” I conceded, dropping my arms down my sides. “Just, don’t speak to me. I’d rather endure the awkward silence than speak to you.”
Again, he shot his arms up in mocking surrender. “I promise. I swear. I’m done being a prick.”
“I find that incredibly hard to believe.”
It wasn’t that far to walk even though it felt like miles of desert terrain. I just kept on searching the crowd, hoping like hell I’d find Cleo, and she’d walk the rest of the way with us and make an awkward as fuck situation just slightly less uncomfortable. But the woman was nowhere to be seen, and I made a mental note to give her a piece of my mind once I found her. She knew I was picking her up, yet she seemed to have decided to take a stroll.
We reached Oakley’s Audi, and I couldn’t shake the unease that trickled along my skin. A group of boys was playing soccer when one of them yelled, “Watch out!”
As I turned, Oakley leaped in front of me, catching the ball before it collided with my face.
“Oh my God,” I yelped, covering my head with my arms even though I knew Oakley had already caught the ball.
“Be careful!” he yelled at them, then unlocked his car. “Your cardigan is on the backseat.” He turned his back on me and threw the ball back toward the boys. I was so fucking annoyed and agitated. I just wanted to get my stuff, find Cleo and get back home.
I opened the door and leaned inside. “Oakley, it’s not here.”
“What?”
“My cardigan. I can’t find it.”
“Did you check under the seat?”
“Oh my God,” I mumbled to myself, getting in the backseat and leaning down. “I don’t see it.”
“Oh, mind the car.” Oakley closed the passenger door, and I jerked up, seeing the car parked next to us reversing out of the parking.
I scrunched up my nose as the smell of cheap perfume assaulted my nostrils now that the door was closed, and no fresh air was coming in. “You know, the least you can do is have Beth wear some decent perfume that doesn’t smell like skank.”
Oakley got in behind the wheel, and I heard him shut the door as I took a last look under the seats. “Okay, it’s not here. You can just fucking keep it when you find it.”
I sat up just as the doors locked and the engine started. “Oakley, what the fuck are you doing?”
“Sit tight, firefly.”
“What are you doing?” My heart pounded up my throat. “Let me out.” I grabbed the handle, trying to yank it open, but it was locked. “Oakley, let me out! Let me out right fucking now!”
“Chill, okay?”
“No, I won’t fucking chill.” I clawed at his shoulders and lashed at his face, kicking at the seats and fucking screaming. “Let me out, you fucking psycho!”