“Do you want to talk about it?”
I look in the review mirror, meeting Delanie’s worry-filled eyes and shake my head. “Nothing to talk about.”
“It’s not good to hold in all that rage. I can see it; you’re about to combust,” Mandie says, looking back as I untangle my earbuds.
There is no way in fucking hell I’m gonna sit in the car with these two “talk your feelings out” chicks and make it back home without killing them both. Or myself. So for the safety of my friends, I’m going to completely ignore them and listen to music that in no way, shape, or form reminds me of that son of a bitch, Jayden Sinclair.
Shrugging my shoulders, I say again, “There is nothing to talk about.”
“Are you kidding me? That asshole rejected you and didn’t even have the balls to tell you. Instead, he went and got Mandie. And then he told you your mom didn’t want you!” Delanie shrieks.
“Thank you, Delanie. I forgot all of that, and so nice of you to remind me,” I deadpan, rolling my eyes as I put my buds in my ears. “Nothing like the sting of rejection coming back full force.”
“I’m just saying! You should have nut-punched him or ripped his dick off and stuffed it down his throat,” she suggests with a shake of her head. Sucking in a breath, I look through my phone for something to listen to, hoping she’ll get the hint. But I have a better chance of hoping for world peace because she then says, “But you did leave a mark on his chin. He looked busted, son of a fucking fucker whore.”
“Well, that was a whole lot of fucks,” Mandie says, and any other time I’d laugh, but instead my fingers are moving up to my own chin. Where my mark is. That he caused.
Fucker.
Curling my lip, I sink farther into the backseat and search my phone for something angry to listen to.
“I just don’t get it! How dare he fool around all damn day, making us all think that he’s down to get some, and then when it’s time, he pussies out! It’s insane.”
“I thought we weren’t talking about it,” I say, but Delanie obviously doesn’t hear me.
“I mean Jace was great. I mean, holy shit, he is ripped in ways that are just downright wrong. And I saw Jayden without a shirt on—you would have had so much fun. I mean, his mouth alone was perfect! Could you imagine it on your hoo-ha?”
I had and I bet it would have been magical, not that I’m telling her that.
“Please, Lord, kill me now,” I moan as I will myself to decide on something to drown out her voice. I love Delanie, I do, but the chick dwells on shit. Even when it’s not her shit to dwell on!
“I mean, why aren’t you upset, Bay?”
“—lor,” I add for her.
But she waves me off. “Yeah, whatever, Baylor. Why aren’t you upset?”
Letting out a long breath, I close my eyes, letting my hand drop in my lap. Why didn’t I fly home? Dad even offered to fly me home. But I said no, I’d ride home with my so-called friends, but that was the worst idea of the fucking century.
No. Scratch that.
Ever talking to Jayden Sinclair was the worst idea of my fucking lifetime!
“Delanie, did it ever occur to you that I am upset, but unlike you, where I don’t verbally vomit my feelings, I’m good with just dealing with them on my own?”
Meeting my cynical look, she says, “Who deals with their problems on their own? That’s not healthy.”
“It’s really not,” Mandie adds. “You need to get it out of you before you go on a rampage and start breaking kneecaps.”
“Someone break mine and bash in my head while you’re at it, please!” I yell, at the end of my limits. “I swear, guys, I’m good.”
“No, you’re not,” Delanie yells, smacking the wheel. “You’re scaring me!”
“Why? How? I’m chilling in the back, no worries,” I say confidently.
“You didn’t even cry? I would have sobbed everywhere.”
“Because you’re a little bitch,” I answer, and while Mandie scoffs, Delanie glares at me in the mirror. It may have been a bit harsh, but she’s poking the damn bear here. “When have I ever cried over a dude? I don’t cry.”