Something inside of me begins to roil and grow even stronger. It's frustration and outrage and resentment, and it’s going to explode out of my chest at any second. I can feel it. I want to tell him to go fuck himself. I want to scream and cry and tell him he's the worst kind of asshole and that he doesn't deserve me.
But… I can't.
Because next to that anger is also a sense of helplessness that is keeping me chained. Even though I want to unleash on him, he still has enough control over me that I can't actually bring myself to do it.
The most I can do is harden my resolve and get through the breakup.
"I'm tired of being shit on by my own boyfriend," I choke out. "I don't deserve this."
He laughs, and the sound is cold and cruel. "Yes, you do. I give you exactly what you deserve. You'd be an idiot to leave me because you'd never be able to do better."
I grit my teeth, the rage growing even as the helplessness smothers the emotion at the same time.
"You're wrong," I whisper. "And even if you're not, I'd rather be alone than spend another minute with you."
For the first time, his expression becomes serious. His brow furrows as he stares at me, the animosity radiating from his body.
"Fine," he snaps. "Leave me. I give you two days before you come crying back to me."
I shake my head, frustrated tears pooling in my eyes that I refuse to ever let fall in front of him again. "I will never come back to you," I say quietly. "I'mdone, Steve."
He must finally sense how serious I am because he straightens, his jaw clenching.
"Fine," he spits. "I don't need this shit. You're not worth it anyway."
And in typical Steve fashion, he makes sure he has the last word by turning on his heel and walking out of the apartment, slamming the door on his way out.
For a moment, I just stand in the quiet that's the aftermath of our fight.
Of our breakup.
A breath stutters out of me. There are so many emotions running through me right now that I don't know which one to deal with first. I’m not surprised that I’m not sad but I am a little in shock that I’m not some mix of relieved and raving mad. I’ve been with Steve for two years and have been unhappy for months, so the fact that we just broke up is more than a little surreal. And the fact thatIwas the one to break up with him is insane.
I look around the apartment in a daze. My life has revolved around another person for so long that I’m a little lost on what to do next.Do I call my girlfriends? Do I go out and get laid? Do I get drunk?
At that last thought, I straighten.I can drink now. I can do anything I want now. He’s not around to judge me or tell me I can’t.
I immediately stride into the kitchen to grab the bottle of tequila. And even though I’m more of a cocktail girl than a shot girl, I forego the glass and tip the bottle directly into my mouth.
I cough from the burn, but even still, a grin stretches across my face.
I feel fuckingfree.
I twirl in place, looking around for more things that I haven’t been “allowed” to do. My gaze lands on the Bluetooth speaker next to the oven.Perfect.
I rip my shawl off and place the tequila bottle back, instead grabbing a Corona from the fridge—just because I can drink now doesn’t mean I’m going to ignore my limits and drink myself into the toilet. I crack the beer and flounce across the kitchen, then press play on my favorite EDM playlist.
And crank the volume up, my smile growing bigger with each beat.
FIGHT TWO
7
JAX
"Are you still coming to my parents' anniversary party tonight?" I ask Tristan. "I know you said you would, but you've been so focused on training lately that I wasn't sure."
I leave out the unspoken part of my question that's something like,Are you going to come or bail because Remy will be there tonight?