by C. Shell
I’ve never understood why some girls devote hours to getting ready. I don’t have that kind of time on my hands, and even if I did, I still wouldn’t do it. I like sticking to the basics, anything beyond that turns me into a ball of nerves. It’s confusing as hell.
Piling my long hair on top of my head in a messy bun, I spend the next five minutes applying a little lip gloss to my puckered lips, mascara to my long lashes, and highlighter to the apples of my cheeks. And with that, I’m done.
Back in our room, I walk in to find Becca is lounging on my bed reading the latest woman’s magazine. I go to my closet and search for something to wear. Pulling out the first thing I find, I dress in a light gray tank top, a pair of worn blue jeans, and my favorite chucks. If I could own every color chuck shoe available, I would do it. Nothing beats a good ,comfortable pair of shoes.
Becca’s glances over her magazine at me. “You ready?”
I go immediately still. Am I? Probably not, but what other choice do I have. I need my stuff and Conner needs to understand that we’re over. Maybe seeing our shared closet void of all my things will get it through his thick skull.
My hazel eyes meet her blue ones, and I give an affirmative nod. “Let’s do this.”
Chapter Four
When we pull up at the apartment complex, Patrick is nowhere to be found. A quick call confirms that he’s running late. My anxiety is running at an all-time high. We haven’t even started tackling the hard stuff yet and I already feel like throwing up.
As I suspected, Connor's blue mustang is vacant from its normal spot. If all goes smoothly, we’ll get this done and be back at the dorm before he returns. I don’t want to be around when he comes home to find my stuff gone.
I rub a palm across my face, wiping away the beads of sweat dotting my forehead. “Why don’t we go on up and start packing? I don’t have a lot, so it shouldn’t take too long. Once Patrick arrives, we can just throw everything in the back of his truck.”
Becca gives me a slide glance. “Stop fretting,” she says, bumping her shoulder against mine. “It might not feel like it now, but you’re doing the right thing. You’re my bestie. I would never steer you wrong.”
I’m so used to doing everything on my own. It feels nice to have someone else take the reins and help me get back on my feet. I follow Becca to the front door on wooden legs. My hands shake so bad it takes several tries before I manage to get the door unlocked. Stepping into the room, I’m surprised to see that everything looks just as it did when I left. I don’t know what I was expecting, but a clean apartment wasn’t on the list. Even the kitchen sink is empty, not a dirty dish in sight.
Becca ignores my stunned expression and darts around me, making a beeline for the bedroom. “What do you want me to start with first?" She calls out.
“You can start emptying out the closet. Just throw everything on the floor for now and I’ll find a bag to put it all in.”
Plopping down on the couch, I inspect the room noticing how everything here reminds me of a special time we shared. The couch is where I rewarded Conner with a blowjob after he endured sitting through the The Notebook with me. The man hates chick flicks with a passion. The kitchen island where we drank coffee together every morning. Everything in this apartment feels tainted now, ruined by his lies and wandering dick.
“Emma!” Becca yells. “You need to come in here and see this.” The panic riding Becca’s voice has me sprinting to the bedroom.
Sprinting down the hall, I dash into the bedroom and come to a screeching halt. My eyes pan around the room, not landing on one thing in general, as I take it all in. “Holy fuck balls!”
“You can say that again,” she scoffs, shaking her head. “It looks like someone let a wild animal loose in here.”
My gaze zeros in on the fist-sized hole next to the door frame, and a shiver runs down my spine. There are other holes besides this one, some bigger and some smaller, along with specks of dried blood coating the carpet. “I don’t think we’ll be getting our deposit back,” I muse out loud.
Becca lets out a low whistle. “This room is trashed. He sure did a number on it.”
I take in the broken lamp by the bed, the shattered photos ground into the carpet, and the cracked headboard before giving her a slow nod. Conner left nothing untouched. Bending down, I sift through the torn fabric piled on the floor. “He cut up my clothes,” I say in disbelief. “Some of these still had the tags on them.”
“What a turd.” Becca picks her way through the room, her steps careful and measured. “We should retaliate and break his shit. Serves him right.”
I slump against the wall and run a hand down my face. I came prepared to deal with a messy apartment. Some leftover pizza laying out along with several empty bottles of beer wouldn’t have surprised me. But finding my clothes destroyed is a slap in the face.
Grabbing one of the many trash bags I brought to serve as a suitcase, Becca starts picking through the piles looking for anything that’s salvageable. “We’ll need to go shopping soon. I’ve got some stuff you can borrow for now, but you’re going to have to be open-minded. Most of it was bought my mother and her style is what I would call boho-chic.”
“Oh lord,” I moan. “Get whatever looks salvageable in here. I’ll start in the bathroom.”
Like a well-oiled machine, we work in comfortable silence, efficiently shoving everything into large bags and then storing them by the front door. As the pile grows larger, my sad heart beats a happier tune seeing that a good portion of my stuff made it through Conner’s craziness. It’s time for me to shut the door on this chapter in my life and move on to bigger and better things.
Whatever that may be.
The sound of flip-flops slapping against the tile has my head snapping up, only to find Becca’s boyfriend loitering in the hallway. A sigh of relief escapes my lips. “Hey, Patrick. Thanks for coming to help,” I call out. Stepping over a shattered plate, I walk over and give him a side hug.
Patrick looks left and right, taking in the bedroom with wide eyes. “Looks like a tornado came through here. Did Conner do all this?”
I swallow back emotions, refusing to break down. “It would seem so. Don’t know who else would bother. Nothing of importance has been taken so a break-in wouldn’t make any sense.”
Becca saunters out of my room and graces her man with a beaming smile. “I thought I heard you out here.” She points to the mountain of trash bags by the front door. “I think we’re about done here. If you could start helping us carry those down to the truck, I will forever be in your debt.”
“And I know exactly how I plan on cashing in on that debt,” he hums. The heated look they share has me throwing up a little in my mouth.
“Hmm,” she says, tapping a finger against her lips. “Are you talking about that thing I do with my tongue that you like so much or that move where you get behind me and I place -.”
“Enough,” I shout, throwing my hands over my ears to block out their intimate words. “I don’t want to hear about your kinky sex life.”
Becca bursts out laughing, her face turning a nice shade of pink. “Don’t be such a prude, Emma. Sex is a great stress reliever. It’s proven to be good for getting over douche bag losers too.” Her eyes light like Christmas morning. “We need to find you a fuck-buddy,” she exclaims with excitement. “Someone to help take the edge off and keep that kitty of yours in working order.”
She would have to go there. My head shakes in exasperation. “Yeah, no thanks. I’ve got that aspect of my life covered. Which reminds me, did you pack my vibrator? I didn’t see it in the bathroom.”
I’ve never seen Patrick blush before, but low and behold, his cheeks match the color of Becca’s fuchsia shirt. How cute. “And on that note, I think I will start taking some of these bags downstairs,” he says, with a light chuckle.
Working together, it doesn’t take us long to fill up the truck. Soft tears slip down my cheeks as I walk through the apartment, making sure
that I have left nothing of importance behind. With all the rooms cleared, I have just one more thing to grab before I go. Moving to the table, I tuck the fishbowl in my arms, careful to not slosh Leon around too much. I don’t think fish can get seasick, but I’m not taking any chances.
“Time to get out of here little buddy,” I tell Leon, watching as he swims in fast circles around the tank.
This apartment holds so many memories that every breath I take feels heavier than the last. We were blissfully happy when we first moved in together. I remember us picking out furniture and trying to meld my traditional style with his modern flair. And then there was the first time Conner tried cooking me dinner. He almost burned the kitchen down.
My heart aches for what could have been, but I’ve got to let him go. I need to love myself enough to put me first for once.
I make it halfway down the stairs when the sound of shouting hits my ears. Sprinting down the last few steps, I move as if the devil himself is chasing me. Connor stands beside Patrick’s truck with anger leaking through his eyes. His glare is hard, his jaw set, and judging by the bags sprawled all over the concrete, he isn’t happy about my moving out.
Ignoring the knots in my stomach, I set the fishbowl down on the curb and march over to where they’re standing. Conner turns to look at me, and I swallow down the unease I’m feeling.
“If you don’t keep your damn voice down someone will call the cops.” My threat is as empty as my bank account, but I’m hoping that the thought of police intervening will be enough to neutralize the situation. The residents in this complex are eighty-five percent college students. Loud music and parties are a daily occurrence around here. The police probably wouldn’t waste their time with our complex.
“Emma, what’s going on?”
My brows arch. “You’re like a bull in a china shop.” I glance at the bags on the ground and huff. “Stop tossing around my shit. It’s bad enough that you went all Edward Scissor Hands on my clothes.”
Conner’s hand encircles my wrist and with a quick tug yanks me in front of him. His wild eyes bore down on me, making me feel small. “Don’t do this, babe. Without you by my side, my future is over. I need you.”
His pleading falls on deaf ears. His words are sweet, but they’re as flimsy as an old condom. His pale, rutting ass ruined what we had. There’s no coming back from that image or the damage it brought.
I stare into his eyes and for the hundredth time wish for things to be different. The air is pulled from my lungs and despite my resolve to be strong; I lean into him. His warm body molds against mine and my stupid heart flutters. If I’ve learned anything in my life, it’s that hope is the root of all evil. Hope didn’t stop my dad from walking out on us, and it never helped to put enough food on the table. Like a bad disease with no cure, hoping for more will kill you slowly from the inside out.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I whisper against his chest. I squeeze my eyes shut and embrace the tears that fall. Hating him would make this easier, but that’s the one emotion I don’t feel. Anger, disappointment, and sadness I have in spades, but I have no hate for him.
Our love started out like a fairy tale. The girl from the wrong side of the tracks falling for the town football star. Conner showed me how to relax and enjoy life. We shouldn’t have worked, and yet, we fit together in all the right ways. My mom worked so much during high school that I ended up taking on the parental role for my little sister that left me with a constant chip on my shoulder.
Being with Conner was like breathing air for the first time. Around him, I could live carefree and recklessly. I only had myself to worry about. He offered me security, love, and a future that I thought was unattainable.
We were good until we weren’t.
After the engagement, Conner changed, and not for the better. It started with him staying out all night with his friends. When he came home, he’s been close-lipped or wasted. My worry became full-blown when I found his cellphone locked, something neither of us ever do. While he was in the shower, I once intercepted a phone call from a girl. Conner swore she was from his intern group with work-related questions, but I never fully bought his story. Conner pushed off my concern, telling me that I was being paranoid.
I should’ve listened to my gut. I’m mad at myself for not seeing the signs for what they were and reacting sooner.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Becca collecting my belongings from the ground and throwing them into the back of the truck. I’m not even mad that she’s tossing my things around like a hot potato, anything to get us out of here sooner.
Conner has yet to move, he stands tall like a cobra ready to strike. What a shit show. This is the exact scene I was trying to avoid. Rumors will fly around campus in no time, and I doubt they will be in my favor. No one would dare tarnish the reputation of their prized football captain. No, it’ll be me, the girl who came from nothing that will be thrown to the wolves.
“You ready to go?” Becca’s voice is so quiet I barely hear her.
“Yeah,” I state dryly. “Go get in the truck and I’ll be right behind you.” Becca looks as if she wants to protest, but before she can, Patrick loops an arm around her waist and steers away. I’m horrible with goodbyes. Shoving my hands in my back pockets, I rock back and forth as I search for the right thing to say.
“I will always love you, but it’s time we go in different directions with our lives.” I sound like a cheesy Hallmark card, but my message is simple and gets right to the point.
His lips press into a fine line. “You can’t call off the wedding, babe.” I take a step back, not liking his tone. If Conner doesn’t lower his voice everyone in this complex will hear us. He doesn’t seem to care as he continues. “Too much is riding on you becoming Mrs. Conner Thompson. If you think I’m going to idly stand by why you throw my future away, you’re in for a rude awakening. I’ve worked too hard for someone like you to come along and ruin it. You’re not going anywhere.”
Behind me, the loud screech of the truck door flinging open greets my ears. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Patrick moving toward us, a look of worry on his face. I don’t want to drag my friends further into my drama. Conner can be an ass, but I don’t think for one second, he would ever physically hurt me. He can be overbearing, but out of the hundreds of arguments we’ve had, he’s never put his hands on me.
What Conner’s rich ass doesn’t understand is that I’m used to dealing with stupid men who don’t know what the word no means. Growing up in the neighborhood I did, I learned from a young age how to protect myself. With a cool smile that doesn’t match the pounding inside my chest, I level my gaze with his as I take a step forward and slip a hand between us. While his eyes are searching mine, I reach out, cup his junk, and give it a steady squeeze.
“I’m not repeating myself again. We’re done.” When he tries to pry my hand away from his jewels, I grip them harder in warning. “I didn’t want things to get ugly between us. Be a good boy and go back to the apartment before you piss me off and I destroy any chance of you ever having kids.”
Beside me, Patrick comes to a fast stop, mirth dancing in his eyes as he watches Conner go deathly still. Conner’s fingers unfurl and fall to his side. He looks anything but happy with the turn of events. Welcome to the party, because neither am I.
More annoyance lines his face. “This isn’t over,” he states with finality. “In a years’ time, you will become my wife. One way or another.”
Turmoil churns in my belly. Jerking back, I take a step toward the truck and force my anxiety down. “You lost that war when I found you balls deep in blondie the other night,” I counter.
Conner has the decency to look embarrassed. “Don’t be stupid, Emma. Once we’re married, Dad will make me partner and the world will be your oyster. You’ll never want for anything.”
I laugh at the sheer stupidity of that statement. “I don’t understand your obsession with us getting married. You’re being weird. Hell will freeze o
ver before I become your wife.”
I walk to where I left the fishbowl and pickup Leon before following Patrick back to the truck. I give Becca a quick hug before moving on to my car. Conner doesn’t move to follow me, but his voice does.
“What about your little sister?” He asks. “Did you forget that my dad is footing the bill for her college tuition after she graduates high school in a few months? My father doesn’t do charity. He won’t continue helping her if we’re not together.”
Anger surges through me, making my blood run hot through my veins. Turning in my seat, I glare daggers at him, wishing they could penetrate and hurt him the way he hurts me. “That’s low, Conner. Even for you.” My stomach rolls with disgust. Everything inside of me feels off balance and wrong. “Threatening my little sister’s future is beyond messed up. I’m sure your father and I come to some kind of agreement.”
Conner looks anything but sorry. His lip ticks up the slightest, showing off his dimple as he smirks at me. “You’re forcing my hand, babe. I don’t like to fight dirty, but I’ll do what’s needed to get you back. You of all people should know that losing is not an option for me. Ever.”
Fuck this!
Reaching into my pocket I pull out my key to the apartment and throw it at his feet. “Screw you, Conner. I don’t need your filthy money or your connections. I’ll figure out a way to take care of Bella on my own. I’ve been doing it my whole life, what’s four more years?”
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I slam the car door shut and slump back against the seat. I can’t do this anymore. Conner knew exactly where to hit me, and he didn’t hold back. My scholarship only covers my tuition and board. The money I make from tutoring is just enough for my living expenses. When Conner’s dad offered to help with Bella’s upcoming tuition, I thought my prayers had been answered.
