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Olivia wants me to descend to her level and make a scene, and she wants that so she can color me with the same brush as her. I’m not sad that I don’t have her as a friend anymore.
The girl who used to stay up late with me, painting our nails and gossiping or reading, is gone. Or rather, I’ve changed. I can see her for who she really is.
I open the door and my cell phone rings in my purse before I can pull it out to call Cash.
Forty-Two
JUNE
I ripmy phone out of my purse, hoping that it’s Cash calling, but it’s another unknown number. I peek into the living room and find Alex lying on the sofa, watching TV. She grins at me, and I smile back before heading through to the kitchen—it has the best view of the front yard.
Olivia and my mother have gone inside, but I’m going to call Cash and Jesse regardless.
I have to put my desire to avoid confrontation second, and Alex’s safety first.
For the first time in my life, it feels easy to do that.
My phone quits ringing, and I lift it to start dialing Cash’s number, but the screen lights up again. Another caller.
“Hello?” I answer irritably.
“Juney baby.” Braydon’s voice is like oil. “Don’t hang up, please! I’m sorry about the other night. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. You’re not boring in bed. And you’re not a fat slut. It was wrong, but Juney, I—”
I don’t remember him calling me “a fat slut” but that just adds to my anger. Not just slut-shaming but fat-shaming too. What a gem of a guy. I can’t believe I fell for his narcissistic bullshit facade.
“Don’t call this number again,” I say, and then I stab my finger down on the screen to end the call.
But Braydon calls back again.
And again.
He’s relentless. He won’t take “no” for an answer, and I’m betting that’s because he grew up with a silver spoon shoved so far up his ass, he tastes metal when he coughs.
“Leave me alone,” I answer. “Braydon, stop calling me. It’s over. You cheated. I’ve moved on.”
“Juney, you can’t just throw away what we have because of one misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstanding? You, and I quote, ‘squirted everywhere.’ That doesn’t sound like a misunderstanding, Braydon,” I hiss, keeping my voice down and checking Alex wasn’t on her way out of the living room.
“That was a one-time thing. Please, Juney, I need you in my life. You’ve always put me first, and I miss that. I miss your support. I know you’re angry about what happened, both with that girl who meant nothing to me. Nothing. And because I got drunk and said a few insensitive—”
“Insensitive? The girl who meant nothing? She meant everything, Braydon, because she cost you our relationship,” I say. “But that doesn’t matter now. Don’t you get it? We were over years ago.”
“Juney, come on.” His voice takes on a whiney quality that irritates me. It reminds me of my birthday party, moments before the sound from his phone cut. “I’m going on the campaign trail this year and I need a woman by my side who shows what type of man I am. That I care about the little people—”
“I couldn’t give a shit.” Apparently, it’s the day for saying how I feel. And man, is it liberating. “I’m done caring about what you want, Braydon. For once, I’m looking out for myself.”
“That’s the thing! That’s the thing, Juney! I can help you. I know how you’ve always wanted to go to college and be, uh, yeah. I have connections at so many Ivy League schools, and universities across the country, honey. I can get you in anywhere you want to go. I’ll pay for your full tuition. Please, Juney baby, I’ll do anything to—”
“What do I want to study? What do I want to major in?” I ask because this is base level knowledge that he should have. “Go on. Tell me.”
“Well, you’ve always wanted to do science. Right? I remember you talked a lot about girls in STEM and—”
“Goodbye, Braydon. Do not call this number again. We are over. We are done. I don’t want to hear your voice or see your face ever again.”
“What, are you going to get that big goon to threaten me again?” Braydon asks.
I head upstairs as he talks, ensuring that Alex can’t hear this conversation. I walk to the window in the guest room and watch my mother’s house for any sign of movement. “Goon? He’s my boyfriend,” I say, even though it’s not true. It’s exactly what Cash said, and I know he’d want me to say it now. “He’s my boyfriend, and he’s fantastic in bed. Like, I can’t even describe how hard he makes me come.” If this guy is determined to make me uncomfortable with phone calls, then I’m going to do the same right back. “He’s got a massive cock. And he—”
