I’m trailing up the steps after parking my car in our sweeping drive, focused on finding my house keys when I hear the telltale thrum of Dane’s bike pulling up into his spot behind me. I don’t turn to see his black deathtrap sleek machine pulling up, but I would never mistake that awful sound.
For once, he’s come home directly from school at the same time as me, and I stiffen and ignore it. I wonder why he’s broken his daily habit of taking off with Tyler after class and instead decided to grace me with his presence as I locate my keys. I open the front door and shove inside the heavy oak, knowing the house is empty. He knows it, too, as it’s not like we hadn’t been told.
We are all alone. Our parents work late almost daily, and today is Monique's scheduled day off so she can see her sister on her birthday. She reminded us before she left this morning at breakfast we had to make our own dinner, as my parents would be eating out.
I’m tired, so I plan to cook, do my homework, shower, and have an early night in bed. I need this sometimes when my mental battery is in the negative. Today at school wiped me out, and I’m still smarting that asshole sat our entire last class kissing up to his new so-called girlfriend and acting like we were not his study partners. I didn’t expect him to contribute, but sitting in the same room and blanking us is a new low even for him. Even Tyler seems mildly pissed about it. Maybe that’s why he’s minus his shadow today.
Lover’s tiff.
I’ve been a head mess lately. Here, I am mad at him for ignoring me while being angry because I wanted him to stay away, and he sat in the same room. I know I am constantly yoyoing about wanting to avoid him and then getting pissy when he does, and that in itself is driving me crazy.
Dane is bad for my brain.
“Loser, hold the door.” Dane’s husky tone hits me close behind, pulling me out of my thoughts as I let go of the door to let it swing back at him, not about to wait for him to catch up, even if it is petty.
“So she’s a bitch at home too.” A snooty female voice startles me, and I spin my head back to see Dane walking in with hoe bag in tow, holding hands and carrying his motorbike helmets while my stomach plummets to the floor. The mere sight of her sets my teeth on edge, and my skin bristles in instant rage.
He actually brought the bitch to our house.
Dane has never brought a girl here, which smarts way more than it should. Churning me up inside and igniting a molten lava sensation in the pit of my abdomen. I grit my teeth, paste on a fake smile, and toss my bag higher on my shoulder with sass. I flip my hair back as though I am not disturbed by this.
“I wasn't aware we had a visitor. It’s not a rent-by-the-hour kinda place. There’s a motel nearby, though.” I raise a brow and jut out my chin as Dane smirks at my attempts at a scathing insult. He lets go of her hand and instead lassos her around the neck and shoulder, tugging her in tight beside him, and fixes a wider genuine smile as he eyes me up and down.
“I’m more of an all-nighter.” He winks, and Charmaine giggles.
“I can testify to that.” She nods, sliding her arm around his waist and cuddling up sickeningly.
My face heats, and my throat closes up with the genuine feeling of having my heart shredded up. I don’t want to hear, see, or know anything about the shit they do together. I drop my eyes to avoid them and act like fixing my bag zipper is way more interesting than them.
Neither seem phased at all that I tried to insult her, and they both walk past me casually, acting like I am a mere insect in their path. Dismissing me.
I am too stubborn and hot-tempered to have them invade my home and plans, so even though they head towards the kitchen, I throw my bag towards the stairs, kick off my shoes, and storm after them. Walking fast, I overtake them as we reach the open-plan arch and push past them to get in first. Inwardly raging and seething with jealousy, he brought my enemy into my domain.
Yeah, I can admit I’m jealous. This churning up inner pain and anger combined with a deep need to cry…what else could it be?
I may not be well-versed in crushes and love, but I know this isn’t just plain anger. My heart hurts.
I make a beeline for the refrigerator and open it in Dane’s face as he comes level. Acting like a blockage for them to come in this way and then peruse the shelves as long as I possibly can so they have to detour around the breakfast bar.
“Someone’s pissy today.” Charmaine laughs pretentiously, in a snide, catty way, her voice coming from behind me like nails on a chalkboard as I guess they went to sit down.
“Hmmm….. She is always this way. I think it’s just who she is.” Dane sighs, and then the scraping noises hint he pulled out chairs. He doesn’t sound affected by my obvious bad mood and instead seems set on irritating me more by staying where I am.
I can’t believe he is choosing to stay here with her while it’s obvious I am not going anywhere. Who does that? When he knows I hate her, and we three had ourselves a recent shitty altercation. Either he’s dense and self-absorbed, or he is trying to score points over me by being low and underhanded.
I pull out some stir-fry ingredients and fresh noodles and carry them over to the cooker, ignoring both of them, trying hard to keep my face neutral even though I am simmering inside. Determined to focus on a task and not change my plans. I will not let him get the upper hand or see how much this whole scenario is getting to me.
I should go upstairs and do my homework first while they eat and vacate, but the stupid stubborn in me cannot back down. He’s wounded more than my pride this time.
I am stiff all over with the oozing stress and tension his presence is causing me. I concentrate on my motions and try to zone them out, hearing the movement, and then the refrigerator opens, so I know Dane is looking for something to make them to eat. I am not offering and only took out enough for a singular portion. I’ll be damned if I make them any food.
“Why don’t we order in?” Dane quizzes her, and I silently mouth his words to myself with a screwed-up mocking expression, knowing he cannot see me. I roll my eyes and chew my lip to curb the urge to say something immature.
I am guessing because he knows he isn’t that hot at cooking, having always relied on me when we fend for ourselves, and I am hogging half the kitchen anyway; takeout is safer. I think the most he has ever made alone was toast. And I was the one who showed him how to use the toaster. Dane’s biggest flaw is that he has been waited on hand and foot by women his whole life and wouldn’t last five minutes on his own domestically.
“Sure, I fancy pizza.” Charmaine is oozing with over-the-top smugness and being fake coy when she purrs her words. Her sickening voice gives me a headache.
I should say something to her about the beach yesterday now it’s only the three of us, but my courage evades me. I know she’s enjoying being here and seeing me suffer, whether she knows it or not. I know Dane will stick up for her and make me worse if I start an argument. I should forget it, act like it never happened, and not give her the satisfaction of rising to her in any way. Dane would tell me I was overreacting anyway.
Maybe I should have cooked for them and made it like I was fine with this whole dynamic, and they mean less than nothing to me. Giving him a clear signal that I couldn’t care less who his woman was, even if it was a lie.
I hear Dane on his cell a minute later, ordering his usual topping before he must hand her the cell phone, and her voice takes over to add extras. I wait with a paused breath, wondering if he will ask if I want anything added, but there’s a brief moment of him confirming the address, and then he hangs up.
I know I am cooking, but I might have wanted something. They do desserts and drinks. It makes me madder that he didn’t think of asking. I’m standing right here. It wouldn’t have killed him.
I hate how he can make me feel invisible and bruise my ego when he’s not actually doing or saying anything to me, and I feel stupid. Stupid that I am so overly sensitive to every tiny thing related to him, and I’m pretty tired of it.
I have never let anyone get to me the way he does, and now I have opened up the can of worms of my complicated heart, I wonder how long it’s been because I like him. This growing head mess that seems to worsen as time goes in direct links to my pathetic, unexplainable affection for this jerk.
I like him.