Barbie Bitch (Rejects Paradise 3)

Nic takes a shaky breath and places his hands on my thighs before finding his balls. “I think we should get married.”

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, DOMINIC? On what fucking planet is that a good idea?”

“You’re my girl, O. You’ve always been my girl and you’ve been denying us for so damn long now, but you know it in your heart. You know we’re going to end up together so why are we bothering with all this in between bullshit? Let’s just skip ahead to the finish line.”

I bark out a sharp laugh because surely, this must be some twisted joke. I bet the guys are hiding out in the apartment with a hidden camera, ready to tell me that I’m being pranked. There’s literally no other logical explanation for this other than Nic has finally gone insane.

“Okay, sure. If skipping ahead to the finish line is what you really want, then let’s go ahead and skip to the finish line of this conversation.” I slam the silver ring down on the counter beside me, feeling more annoyed than I have the right to feel. Who does he think he is throwing this shit in my face? “You and I are not happening. I’m not about to marry you and I’m not about to let you talk me into it. I'm seventeen. This is insane. I swore to you that I was never going to be with you after you fucked Carmen Saunders on this very counter. You broke my heart, Nic and that was the biggest mistake you ever made because now I’ve gone and given mine to someone else.”

“That’s bullshit,” he roars, grabbing the ring and shoving it back in my hand, never being one to handle being told no. “How can you deny this? You’re not in love with that rich prick. You just think you are because he can offer you a fucking glamorous lifestyle. You’re acting like a fucking barbie bitch. You need to remember who you are and where you belong.”

My hand slaps out across his face, the sound of the sharp sting echoing through his small apartment. I push him back and jump down from the counter, glaring up at him with venom in my eyes. “I know exactly who the fuck I am and after all this time, I thought that you’d have figured it out as well. I’m not your little whore that you can mold into the perfect gang wife and I'm never going to be that person. Sure, a year ago the thought of being with you was thrilling, dangerous, and exciting, but it’s not anymore. I've moved on. I know my worth and it’s not visiting some dead-beat husband in prison every second week, finding some other women's underwear under my bed, or sitting by your bedside after being shot for the hundredth time. I'm not doing that to myself. I deserve better. I deserve a guy who looks at me as though I’m all that exists in his world, a guy who values me and makes me his priority, and a guy who’s not afraid to sit the fuck down and let me be the ruler of my own damn life.”

“What?” he scoffs. “And you think Carrington is that guy?”

“I fucking know he is,” I spit. “He’s never once hurt me, he’s never once dragged me down three flights of stairs out of pure jealousy. He’s stood back and let me make my own fucking mistakes and then stood by my side, helping build me back up once I realized where I went wrong. He doesn’t hold me back, telling me I belong somewhere I don’t. He doesn’t try to guilt me into loving him, and he sure as hell doesn’t keep me from trying to better myself.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. I’ve been there for you since day one.”

“No, Nic. You’ve lied to me since day one. You’ve kept secrets, made me believe what you’ve fabricated me to believe. That’s not a healthy relationship. You and me together are toxic and I won’t do that to myself, not anymore. I’m sorry, Nic, but there’s no way in hell that I would ever marry you, not after everything that’s gone down between us.”

I turn on my heel and stalk back to his bedroom, taking his stupid little ring with me. He comes tearing down the hall after me. “Don’t fucking walk away from me,” he yells. “We’re not done with this conversation.”

“Ha,” I scoff. “This conversation was done before it even started. There’s nothing more to say. Surely you had to have known what my answer was going to be? How could you ever think that I'd want that? How many times have I told you that I wanted out of Breakers Flats? How many times have I told you that I wanted more for myself? College? A home of my own? A proper life where I don’t have to be worried about drive-by shootings and gang violence?”