Page 27

Kota

M y patience with Bobby was thinning. It had been months and he still hadn’t tied the knot.

Not the marriage knot, of course, but the relationship knot.

He had just picked me up from class and we were supposed to hang out for a bit before he had poker night with his friends.

“Do you mind if I stop at the liquor store to grab some beer for later?” he asked from the driver’s seat.

I shook my head lightly. “I don’t mind.”

“Cool,” he smiled before turning into the parking lot. “I’ll be right back,” he said, hopping out of the car and rushing inside.

I tapped my feet against each other, anxiety starting to prick my skin. I needed to just have this conversation with him. It’d been on my mind constantly for days now, and the thoughts weren’t slowing down.

Obviously, I didn’t want to be played. But I also didn’t want to waste my time. And after months of this we’re-dating-but-not-actually-dating behavior, I was ready for a clear-cut answer.

I waited rather impatiently for Bobby to finish up inside, letting out a sigh that was cut short when his phone buzzed on the center console beside me.

I’d never been one to peek at people’s phones, but there was something gnawing at me, a strange feeling growing in my gut that was demanding I just simply looked. Not to mention, it was a little damn hard not to when it was practically in my face.

I didn’t even have to touch the phone, all I had to do was glance at it.

Kimmie: Are you still coming over tonight?

My jaw tightened. Poker night, my ass.

I knew Bobby well enough to know that he didn’t have a sister, or even a very close cousin for that matter. He’d never mentioned any friends that were girls either.

Heat was creeping up the back of my neck, and as Bobby reappeared with a case of beer in one hand and a four-pack of seltzers in the other, I let out a fucking laugh.

I’d been around his friends long enough to know that none of them drank fucking seltzers.

Do it now, Kota. Catch him in the lie.

I somehow kept my temper from flaring as Bobby placed the alcohol in the backseat and climbed into the front. I even managed to plaster on a fake grin as if nothing had happened.

“Ready?” I spoke.

“Yep,” he said.

I cleared my throat as he began driving. “So, um, I have a question.”

He glanced back and forth between the road and me. “What’s up?”

I kept my ice-cold glare ahead of me to make sure he couldn’t catch it. “Well, we’ve been talking for a few months now.”

“Mhm,” he nodded along.

“So, I was just wondering,” I paused, inhaling deeply, “where is this going?”

He let out what sounded like a quiet sigh. “I knew this question was coming,” he said, a trace of reluctance in his voice. “I mean... honestly, I like how things are between us. This semester has been crazy busy and I’m starting my new job in a few weeks, so it’s only going to get busier. But you know I like you,” his voice softened, “and I do want to keep seeing you.”

In other words— You’re cool, and we should keep fucking, but I don’t wanna commit myself to you.

There was an ache in my core, but I refused to show it. Clearly, Bobby didn’t want to be with me, and there was no reason for me to try to convince him to.

I gave a careless shrug. “Okay.”

He shot me a look that was full of surprise, as if he’d been expecting me to put up a fight. Had he wanted me to put up a fight? To beg for him to commit to me? If that was what he wanted, or what he was waiting for, it was never coming.

I would never give a man that kind of power or satisfaction. My self-respect outweighed my feelings for Bobby, and I’d rather lose him than to lose myself.

But even though I was trying to stay strong and make the right decision for myself, it still hurt.

“Okay?” he asked.

I shrugged again. “Okay,” I repeated.

“Okay,” he murmured.

Bobby put on his turn signal, but before we reached the light, I pointed straight. “Actually, can you drop me off? I’ve got a killer migraine.”

He shifted out of the turn lane, growing wary. “You don’t want to hang out anymore?”

“Not tonight,” I shook my head.

Once again, he said, “Okay,” muttering it even quieter than the last time. It seemed like he was in his own head now, thrown off by my reaction, or lack of reaction, I should say.

Inhaling a stressed breath, my eyes began stinging in the slightest. One more minute , I told myself, then you can cry all you want.

That remaining minute was full of awkward silence, Bobby’s discomfort lingering through the air like cigarette smoke.

He pulled up to the front of the apartment building, quietly shifting into park and glancing over at me as if waiting for me to say something.

But I didn’t.

I climbed out of the car silently, prompting him to speak right before I could shut the door.

“Am I still going to see you tomorrow night?”

I gave him a wicked smile. “I don’t think so,” I said, slamming the door. I kept my chin up as I walked inside the building, refusing to let him see my confidence waver in the slightest.

Gosh, I fucking hated this feeling. The feeling of a heavy chest, a mushy brain, an aching throat as if little splinters of ice were stuck in there.

All I wanted was my bed. And Bridget. But I had no idea if she was even home right now.

I fished my key out of my purse, growing agitated with it as I fought with the lock, glossy eyes blurring my vision. I let out a strained, painful breath as I pushed through the door.

Immediately, Crew’s brows came in with both concern and curiosity. He eyed me as if he were seeing a unicorn in real life. His words came out slowly, warily. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” I said, tossing my purse on the counter.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “You don’t look fine.”

I shot him a look, and even though it didn’t feel very fierce with tears in my eyes, apparently, it still got the job done, because Crew recoiled a bit.

“I’m. Fine,” I insisted, even though we both knew it wasn’t the truth. My voice fell, and I looked away from him, beginning to sulk towards my room. “Just ended things with Bobby.”

“Oh...”

“When Bridget comes home, have her come to my room please,” I requested, shutting my door and collapsing into bed.

This was exactly why I was always hesitant to get involved with guys. I grew up having trust issues with men, and every guy that I ever let walk into my life only proved why those trust issues still existed.

I wasn’t sure why I had trusted Bobby not to screw me over.

If my own father couldn’t even love me, why would I trust another man to?

It was times like these that reminded me of the three most important things my mother taught me growing up.

One, how to be independent and take care of myself.

Two, how to be confident in my own skin.

And three, how to not deal with men’s bullshit.

I was currently sitting in bed, hugging my knees to my chest and burying my head into them. Squeezing my eyes shut, a single tear escaped as I did so, trailing all the way down to my lips.

But all it took was that one tear for dozens to follow its lead. It was like the first drip of water that fell from the sky before an entire storm rushed down.

Then, I did what I always did.

I gave myself ten minutes, setting a timer on my phone.

For those ten minutes, I’d allow myself to be sad and cry it out, and once that time was up, I’d brush it off and continue my day.