Bad Boy Rich

Wesley continues to block my exit, staring Mitch down like he had done something wrong. Was I missing something here?

“I don’t think you should be leaving with a stranger.”

I’m confused. It could be the gin and tonic but I’m certain it isn’t. “Mitch is far from a stranger. We’ve attempted to flirt three times. We have a connection. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to continue my attempt at failing with this very nice man.”

I push on his chest, ignoring this warm sensation that pumped my blood and traveled to places that shouldn’t have. It was purely anger. I don’t think I had ever felt this level of anger with any human being before.

“Milana.” Wesley pulls me back into him, his deep stare locking into mine as I try to understand what is happening, what he was doing.

“Hey, leave her alone!” Mitch steps in front, breaking Wesley’s grip from my arm and creating a barrier between us. “I know you, you’re that guy, the one from that show.”

Wesley’s expression turns into rage, like Mitch had offended him by recognizing him. What show? I had never seen Wesley before that day in the café. Was this another one of those moments where I had no clue who someone was?

Then it clicks.

Emerson was on a reality TV show. This must have been their connection.

“You don’t fucking know me, okay?” Wesley spits, pushing past him and penetrating me once again with a deathful stare.

“Mitch, can you give us a moment, please?” I ask softly, calming the tension that lingers around us.

Mitch takes a step backwards, touching the small of my back. I grab Wesley’s hand and drag him past the crowds, ignoring his weight and reluctance to follow me. People are watching, curiosity on their faces and a few following us outside.

The cool air graces my face, instantly bringing my body temperature down. I search the area around us and continue dragging him to a more private spot in the doorway of a neighboring store that was closed. It didn’t stop the onlookers and cameras that flash in the distance. Conscious of the unwanted attention, I raise my arm and cover my face to disguise myself.

I want to tear him apart, fueled by anger and confusion.

“What the hell is your problem? What was that? You can’t just fight people and throw your fist around!”

“You didn’t even know the guy and you leave with him!” His brows pull down together, agitated, his expression full of animosity. “I knew you were naïve but didn’t think you were that dumb.”

His eyes are distracted for a moment, watching people walk past, a bunch of girls that giggle and call his name. That’s it. This, whatever this was, needed to stop.

“Thanks for calling me dumb. You seem to have this knack for making me feel pathetic. Run off to your posse of girls, I can take care of myself.”

I don’t give him a chance to respond, abandoning him and walking at a fast pace in the exact opposite direction with no clue where I was heading. I hear him call my name, once, twice, but ignore him. When a cab drives past, I wave my hand repeatedly until it stops along the curb. I jump in, shutting the door behind me, letting out a breath of air and allowing my head to fall against the back of the seat. The wind sweeps through the cab and the door swings open. The cab driver yells and Wesley has jumped in the back with me.

I straighten my posture, restraining my hands that want to push him out of the cab and onto the pavement.

“What the hell are you doing?!” I yell at him.

He runs his hands along his hair and bites his lip with an irritable twitch. There’s this nervous energy about him, like he wasn’t thinking straight and on complete edge. “I don’t know. You’re…annoying. Frustrating. Clumsy and dress like you belong in a nunnery.”

I stare down at my navy dress. His terrible words made me want to cry, as stupid as that sounds, but I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. I would cry behind closed doors with a tub of ice cream and be that type of girl I swore I would never be.

“Well, you’re a conceited snob that’s probably riddled with diseases from all the hoochies hanging off you!”

“Your mouth…it’s…” He curls his fist into a ball, stumbling on his words.

“What, Wesley?” I laugh out of nowhere. “You have no clue who I am. You don’t know me from a bar of soap. Whatever opinion you’re forming of me, go ahead. I don’t care.”

He raises his head and opens his mouth, my heart beating like a looming thunderstorm from the anger consuming me. I know his next words will be cruel and heartless, so I prepare myself, biting my lip and scrambling for the right words to use against him…

Then I stop.

I’m staring directly into the eyes of a man that hates me.

I want to hate him back.