Page 37 of Wicked Little Secret
I spin around to track him with my gaze. “I told you when we started dating, I move at a slow pace.”
“Slow pace or like a fucking turtle? It’s beenfourmonths.”
“Three and a half. And if it’s a problem, then we can see other people.” I follow him into the kitchen area as his phone pings, and he quickly snatches it to respond to whatever slew of texts he’s received. “Samson? Who are you texting all the time? Are you going to answer me or is this more silent treatment?” I prompt when he says nothing, more preoccupied texting. Shaking my head, I shoot straight for my things on the dining room table. “This is so dumb. I’m out of here.”
He slams down his phone on the kitchen counter. “Do what you want. That’s what you always do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means it’s always all about you, Nyssa. Whatever the fuckyouwant. Dating you’s like dating some fucking tiger that’s about to claw the shit outta me.” He pops open the fridge to grab a beer, then leaves me alone in the kitchen area. He’s returned to the couch, where he plops down,guzzling down half the can. “I thought I could deal with it. But you’re not hard to get. You’reimpossibleto get.”
It takes me several seconds to join him back in the other room. When I do, I’ve finished packing my things, my leather bookbag slung over my shoulder.
“You’re right,” I say. “Iamimpossible… to someone low effort. I’m sorry I don’t want to fuck on your couch that smells like farts and weed, Samson.”
“I told you I’d light some candles. Get some roses and shit?—”
“Are you taking me home?” I interrupt, folding my arms. “You said you’d drive me.”
“Figure it out yourself. I’ve got plans. Which reminds me. Where’s my phone?”
He gets up, clutching his beer can, and returns to the kitchen, presumably for another text. I’ve drifted toward the door, shaking my head in disbelief.
It shouldn’t really be a surprise Samson would be a big enough asshole to make me find my own way home. It wouldn’t be the first time. But it damn sure is the last.
“Nyssa!” he calls as I’m halfway out the door. “Did you see where I put my phone?”
“Find it yourself,” I snap spitefully.
They’re my parting words as I slam his door shut. I’m several steps down the hall when I hear his rumbling voice calling me out of my name. Words like “selfish bitch” would sting a lot more if I hadn’t heard much worse throughout my life.
I ride the elevator down to the first floor of his apartment building and stop altogether in the vestibule to order an Uber.
I’ve had no luck securing a ride home otherwise.
I’ve texted Macey but she’s out of town for the weekendon a family trip. Katelyn’s on a date with her latest dating app hook up. And Heather… Heather’s most discreet of all.
“You and Samson broke up?” she says, lukewarm interest in her voice. “Nyssie, that’s awful.”
“Do you think you can swing by and pick me up?”
…you do live only a couple blocks away…
“Oh… um, not really,” Heather answers. “Sorry, babes. You know I don’t do short-notice obligations. But call me tomorrow. We’ll go for mani-pedis.”
I huff out a sigh when the Uber app informs me my driver’s waiting two blocks down. I fire off a message to let him know he has the wrong address.
No street parking. Ive been fined before. You’ll have to walk to me.
I’ll be right outside… you won’t need to park.
The street’s one way… I’d have to circle around half the neighborhood to make it back. U meet me where I am…
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mutter under my breath.
The request is so irritating, for a secondI’m even considering making up with Samson. Just to get a ride home.ThenI’d break up with him all over again.
But my pride’s too precious for me to stoop that low. Samson was a dick for the last time. I’ll simply have to figure out other ways to ingratiate myself in the same circles. I’ve already found other ins that have served me well. I wouldn’t be invited to mani-pedis tomorrow with the school’s most popular girl if I hadn’t.