Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 79(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 79(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
Standing in front of me, looking sloppy and red in the face, is McKayla, my ex-girlfriend.
“I know you regret breaking up with me now.”
Before I can even say anything, she pushes straight past me into the kitchen and goes straight to the fridge.
“McKayla, what are you doing?”
“I saw you today,” she replies, grabbing herself a beer. “With your little rich girl you couldn’t keep your eyes off of.”
It’s been over a year since we broke up, and she still remembers I keep the bottle opener in the second drawer down. She grabs it and pops her beer open then turns to me, giggling.
“You’re dreaming if you think a girl like that is ever going to go for a guy like you.”
“Dreaming, huh?”
She nods, taking a swig. “She might think it will be fun to fuck you once or twice so she can tell her friends back in the Hamptons or Beverly Hills or wherever she’s from that she fucked a guy who didn’t go to Yale or whatever, but there’s no way she’ll ever stay with you.”
“McKayla—”
“And even if you somehow managed to charm her Prada socks off her,” she laughs, “you think her parents would let that happen? No way! They wouldn’t let you get in there and gobble up her trust fund!”
I’d really hoped McKayla would have found herself a boyfriend by now, or at least moved on past caring about me. She always was jealous, but I really don’t need this right now.
She giggles again and does this weird little dance-walk move to close the distance between us. I try to get out of the way by moving toward the sink, but she just follows me.
“You know what we should do?” she asks, eyeballing me in a very transparent way. I know where this is headed.
“McKayla, don’t.”
“We should get back together!”
“Why, so you can just cheat on me again with another guy who promises to take you to Cabo and buy you a Tesla? You know, maybe you’re the one harboring resentment here and projecting your insecurities on me. Ever think about that?”
McKayla frowns, looks up like she’s thinking about what I just said, then immediately shakes her head. “Nah,” she laughs. “I think I’m the one telling you the truth like Simon Cowell, and you’re the contestant who still thinks he can sing and has a shot at making it big!”
“Simon Cowell, right…”
McKayla does that thing she always used to do when she knows she’s wrong, which is to start off with a heavy sigh and then sort of fall forward and expect me to catch her against my chest, but since I’ve seen it far too many times and have no interest in participating in it again, I move out of the way very early and force her to catch herself against the counter.
“Christian!”
“Look, McKayla, I’m just not in the mood for this tonight, okay? I had a shitty day already, and I don’t want to argue with you. You cheated on me with an out-of-town guy who you thought could be your sugar daddy and get you out of here, and it didn’t work out and now you want me as your fall-back guy. You know how insulting that is?”
I take a swig of my beer and stare at her from across the kitchen. Today has just been the entire world trying to crush me down, but I’m not going to let it.
I’ve found my dream girl, and she’s going to be here soon, but I have to get McKayla the hell out of here so she doesn’t ruin the only good thing I have left to look forward to.
“Fine, I made a mistake, all right?” McKayla huffs. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong about this.”
“Yeah? Well, maybe not,” I reply, just agreeing with her as a way to end this conversation. “But you are wrong if you think I’m going to come back to a girl who cheated on me. Now if you’ll excuse me, this is my house and I need you to leave now.”
I can see the emotion in her eyes as she stares at me. My guess is this isn’t how she saw this going, just as today isn’t how I saw my day going either. There’s a tense moment where it seems like she’s about to say something, maybe turn this into an argument, but thankfully the moment passes and McKayla takes one last swig of her beer and tosses it loudly into the sink.
“Fine, Christian. Go for your little rich girl. Be my guest,” she says, brushing past me for the door. “But don’t come crying to me for a make-up fuck when it doesn’t work out.”
She nearly rips my door off its hinges on her way out.
“Don’t worry, McKayla. I won’t,” I say as she steps out into the evening light.