Page 71 of Apparently, I’m A B!tch

Chapter37

Tristan

Sunday

This wasthe longest we went without speaking to each other. Nikki blocked my number. My texts and calls were left unanswered. She even ignored Lilly’s pleas, and explicitly told her she didn’t want someone acting as a go-between for us. Even I had to admit, Lilly’s plan to text Nikki on my behalf sounded like something from a young adult high-school fiction novel, and I should’ve been embarrassed about how desperate I seemed for wanting to use that option to begin with.

I should’ve been handling this like an adult. I should’ve accepted that she needed her space and went about my life without her. But deep down, while I knew Nikki was stubborn, I didn’t think she would go out of her way to pretend I didn’t exist. We never let more than a couple of days go by without seeing each other, and the last time we did, I went to her office and kissed her.

Her absence, her silence, was like a blast of acidic gas to my senses. I’d never been so numb before. The only thing left was a heavy churning in my chest. It burned my throat and eyes, leaving me to lie awake at night.

How did we get here?

How could she really believe I would sleep with Rochelle?

After all our years together, it seemed unfathomable that Nikki could look at me and think I would do that. But she labeled me a liar before Rochelle showed up, using small omitted truths as proof she couldn’t trust me anymore.

Maybe I never meant that much to her to begin with.

Maybe I scared her by telling her how I felt. Maybe our newfound sexual chemistry terrified the hell out of her.

Whatever it was, she left, and I couldn’t see a way back to her.

So, with the shop closed and Nikki gone, Lilly volunteered to take Uncle Henry to my class.

I had to blink multiple times and take deep swigs from my canister full of espresso and hot water, but I got through the class, and my students managed to finish the trees and cobble-stoned path portion of their paintings.

Uncle Henry shot me sad, withered looks that demanded I tell him what went on between Nikki and me, but I didn’t have it in me to talk about it.

Lilly was tight-lipped, sitting by Uncle Henry and keeping him company, but refusing to touch Nikki’s canvas. Defensive over Nikki’s dismissal of not just me, but all of us, she folded her arms and said Nikki could finish the piece herself.

After my students left, I paced through the two brief alleyways that were walled by my student’s work, and stopped in front of Nikki’s canvas. She was behind now, but that didn’t matter. With things going the way they were, she wouldn’t be back.

I touched a finger to Nikki’s canvas, where the yellow streak used to be, the bit of paint that started this up-and-down spiral that was mine and Nikki’s short-lived romance, and let out a heavy breath.

“Well, you certainly don’t look happy, darling.”

Startled, I looked up to see Rochelle’s pleased-with-herself catlike smile.

She was leaning against the door frame, hands in the pockets of a no-doubt very expensive black trench coat. It was belted at the waist, and as our eyes met, she straightened and strode toward me, chin uplifted and heels tapping on the wooden floor.

It was difficult to keep my voice calm as I said, “I didn’t agree to meet you, Rochelle.”

What the hell was she doing here? She already ruined my art career and any chance I had with Nikki. What else could she want from me? What else could she do to me?

She came close, her expression cocky, her smile too wide. She flattened her manicured hand against my chest and said, “You look good enough to eat, darling. I see you’ve been keeping well.”

“It’s been a week.” I kept my tone flat, fighting the urge to push her hand away as she slid it down my torso. “I can keep myself together for at least that long.”

“Yes well, I suppose having that little coffee shop helps. And this class of yours.” Her eyes were too wide, glittering as if baiting me into something.

“What do you want?”

As soon as the question left my mouth, she reached the hem of my tee and dove her hand underneath.

“Rochelle,” I rebuked, but all she did was laugh.

“You asked, darling. This is what I want.” She inched closer, her hand smoothing along my skin, reaching higher under my shirt. “I’d like to give you a chance to reconsider my offer.”