The woman burst into laughter. “Co-the-fuck-what?” She glanced at me from head to toe, smirking. “You sure talk fancy for a kid.”
FROOOOOOOOOG ALERT! My brain was in panic mode by the time she finished speaking. It urged me to leave, to run in the opposite direction and never look back.
But it was too late.
I offered my hand to her. “I’m Daria. Victor’s—-”
The sound of Victor’s voice in the background cut me off. “Who is it, babe?”
I stilled.
My brain lost its snarky tone. My brain stopped pretending to croak like a frog. And this time, like a bad omen I couldn’t escape, both my brain and my heart said the same thing.
Please, Daria.
Please listen.
FROG ALERT.
But for some reason, I just couldn’t make my feet move.
Another moment passed, and this time the door opened more widely, revealing a bare-chested Victor. His hair was bed-mussed, his face unshaven. He looked very cute, in a scruffy sort of way. He would have looked cuter, however, if I didn’t notice the guilt flashing in his eyes.
A second later, and the guilt turned into resentment.
His eyes on me, he pressed a kiss to the other woman’s forehead. I flinched, and satisfaction gleamed in his gaze.
PLEASE LEAVE NOW. Both my brain and heart begged for the same thing, but I couldn’t make myself listen to either of them. It was almost like a matter of honor. I had started this stupidity. I would see it to the end.
“Don’t mind her, babe,” I heard Victor murmur huskily. “She’s just a spoiled little rich girl wanting another hard fuck from a real man.”
The other woman laughed. “You really are a stud.” She grabbed his crotch right in front of me, and when I flinched, I saw the same satisfaction gleam in her eyes. Turning back to Victor, she purred, “Too bad for her, she’s not a real woman, not like I am, right?” She started stroking him as she spoke.
Victor visibly bit back a groan. Giving her a smack on the ass, he said roughly, “Go back inside, babe. I’ll deal with this.”
Not bothering to look at me this time, she gave his cock one last stroke before walking away, the taunting sway of her generous hips almost like a middle finger pointed at me. Take that, bitch, those hips said.
And I took it. Because I had to. It wasn’t her fault I fell in love with a frog. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but mine.
“What the fuck are you still standing there for?”
The coldness in Victor’s voice made me swallow. I looked at him, and even as my heart broke, I couldn’t make myself deny the truth. He was a frog. Just like the other guys before him, he turned out to be a frog but even so, I had loved him. And that was what I couldn’t understand.
How could I have loved a frog?
How could I still love him even now?
Victor turned red. “Don’t look at me like that.” His voice was tight and bitter at the same time. “Don’t make it my fault. This is all yours. You led me on.”
I wanted to ask how. How did I lead him on? Just because I liked wearing sexy clothes, just because I enjoyed flirting, just because I was the first to tell him I liked him – that all meant I was an easy lay and that being my boyfriend meant he had the right to fuck me?
Was that it?
I wanted to ask, but I didn’t because there was no point. He was a frog, and I knew by now that all frogs thought the same thing.
“Get the fuck out of my life.”
Victor’s angry words should have hurt, but they didn’t. Heartbreak always made me numb, and I had learned to be thankful it was so. It made the walk of shame more bearable, made me able to hold back the tears until I reached a place where I could lose all dignity and bawl like a kid.