It was Saturday afternoon and West and Bronx hadn't been home since the night before. I was going to work early tonight, and since Chloe was on the same shift as me, she agreed to pick me up on her way to Aces. I’d have to make arrangements to get home because West was finished carting me around and watching for my stalker.
I decided to call him and see how his day was. I knew he would be stressed seeing his mom for the first time in years. Knowing West, he would be drowning his sorrows in a bottle and a blunt before the day was over.
I dialed his number as I paced the kitchen. I’d spent most of the day cleaning since I hadn’t been home to do it in a while. Mom was gone a lot so there wasn’t much to do.
The phone rang twice before I was sent to voicemail.
“Hey, it’s me. Just calling to see how things went today, how you’re doing. Um, I miss you and I’m thinking about you. I’ll see you later.”
Within thirty seconds of hanging up, I got a text.
West: Won’t be able to pick you up tonight. Party at Axel’s.
My heart sank as I read the message. I guess it was over–whatever it was. Just like that.
Me: That’s how you’re ending this? I don’t even get a conversation.
I cringed at my response. We hadn’t discussed our relationship–I avoided talking about it–but I was still owed a fucking explanation as to why he was being cold to me. The checkmark indicating he’d read the message appeared, but once it’d been ten minutes, I knew I wouldn’t get a response.
I dropped my phone, my chest tight and stomach knotted. I wanted to cry, I wanted to puke. I was mad at myself for caring about a guy who let me down–again. For thinking he cared about me.
I pushed those thoughts aside as I got ready for work, choosing a black crochet top, a black jean skirt, nude fishnets, and a pair of black Converse. I left my hair down but added a thin headband to keep it out of my face. Once my eye makeup was done and lipstick applied–a mauve color calledThotful, ha–I was ready to go spend the next six hours at Aces, trying to keep my mind off what was happening at Axel’s.
My imagination would run wild, as it usually did, only now it’d be filled with thoughts I didn’t want to think about. Girls hanging on West, kissing him, touching him, sucking his dick.
Stop it, brain. He wasn’t yours to lay claim to. He can do what he wants.
Yeah, he can, but I wasn’t going to pretend like it didn’t bother the fuck out of me. I wasn’t going to pretend that it didn’t feel different with him this time.
Fuck, it was going to be a long night.
Iwasright,itwas a long night. It was almost nine o’clock–halfway through my shift–and Delaney told me to go take a fifteen-minute break. She didn’t have to tell me twice.
I went to the locker room and pulled out my phone. Nothing from West–shocking. I had a text from Gabby saying she was going to sneak out and pick me up. She was still grounded from being out all night at Axel’s party. I also had a text from Bronx.
Bronx: Just to warn you, we’re at Axel’s and there’s some stuff going on you’re not going to like. Pictures will probably end up online. Please remember he’s been through a lot today. Lunch with our mom didn’t go well. I’m keeping an eye on him the best I can, but he’s lost it a bit.
I pulled up Instagram and saw what Bronx warned me about. West in Axel’s hot tub surrounded by two girls wearing barely-there bikinis, one draped on his arm and one on his lap, as he puffed on a joint. They were surrounded by beer bottles and I could see half of Cade next to them. The girls were smiling and West’s eyes were closed.
My heart dropped into my gut. I pulled my text messages back up.
Me: Thanks for the warning. Is this the part where you say “I told you so”?
I went back to the photo because evidently, I liked to punish myself. The stupid asshole didn’t have the decency to tell me to my face he was done with me. Pain and anger burned in my chest, but nothing compared to the disappointment I felt in myself for trusting him again.
Bronx: Of course not. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. He’s going to regret all this shit in the morning.
I chucked my phone back into my locker and slammed it shut, regretting spending my fifteen minutes of free time looking at the guy I…cared…about getting pawed at by two girls.
Two girls who were prettier than me, thinner than me, richer than me.
Tears stung the back of my eyes as I looked at myself in the mirror, trying to push the image of West railing the two girls out of my mind. He’d probably take them to the same room we fucked in. That’d be poetic.
I wiped my eyes gently to avoid smearing my makeup and schooled my expression. I had a job to do, and I wouldn’t be able to do it if I kept thinking about the boy who loved to break my heart.
Intheory,notthinkingabout West while working was a good idea. In execution, however, it wasn’t that simple. I spent the rest of my shift forgetting orders, spilling drinks, and even ran into Max behind the bar and sent both of us tumbling to the floor. Not my finest hour.
I couldn't focus or concentrate on much of anything, that image flashing in my head, making my stomach churn and my heart ache. The emotional pain made me itch for physical pain–something I hadn’t done in a long time. The cool feel of a blade against my skin, breaking through and causing blood to pool at the surface.