He finally notices. “You packed my stuff?”
I nod. I did. I bought boxes and bubble wrap from the UPS store and packed up his stuff. I even took the time to bubble wrap his precious MLB bobblehead figures. He’s got a million of them, and I swear they’re his most prized possession. I should have just tossed them into a box and not done the nice thing to protect them, but I’m not like that.
When he sees a box I’ve labeled for him: Dylan’s stupid fucking bobbleheads, he mumbles and steps closer to the cardboard cube, “My bobbleheads,”
“Yep. You should take that with you when you go.”Along with the rest of your stuff.
He turns to look at me. “I don’t have a place yet.”
I shrug. I don’t care. “Better find one. I’m moving soon, and I’m not taking that with me.” I point to some boxes of his.
“Don’t be hasty, Red.”
Has anyone ever used a nickname on you that you hated? Well, Dylan knows I hate “Red.” I’ve told him a gazillion times.
“We’re not getting back together.”
He snorts. “I know. Not right now, anyway. But we could still live together.”
“It’s a one-bedroom apartment.”
“Don’t you trust me?” he asks with a smirk.
“No. I absolutely don’t trust you.”You cheated on me, you fuckhead.
“Red.” He’s stepped closer to me, so I step back. “I need a place to live. You can’t afford this place on your own. It makes perfect sense.” He’s stopped moving now that he’s less than a foot away from me. I can’t move anymore thanks to the front door at my back.
“Uh, no.”
“We could be roommates.” He said that last part softly. I know his game. He’s doing his sweet-guy routine. “It’d be fun.” He shrugs. “And maybe we could work on our relationship. Fix what’s broken.”
“What’s broken is your dick found its way inside another woman.”
“Savanna is—”
I hold up my hand. “Nope. Don’t speak of her and you. I don’t want to hear it. It’s over between us. You’re not moving back in here, and we’re not ‘working on our relationship.’”
“Harsh, Red.” He moves closer. I see his arm raise from my peripheral vision. He’s going to try to touch my face. It’s how he kisses. He puts both hands on either side of my face right before he kisses me. I hate it. He controls my head that way, and it pisses me off just thinking about it. Sliding to my left, I move away from him and the door. I’m able to reach the knob, though. Opening the door, I don’t smile. “Not nice to see you, Dylan. You need to go.”
“Red—”
“God. Stop calling me Red!” I shout it this time. “I hate it.”
“You do?” He says it like he’s hearing it for the first time ever when it’s closer to the millionth time. He’s so full of shit. How and why did I put up with his crap for four years?
“Get out, Dylan.”
He chuckles as he steps over the threshold. “Think about it. I’ll be back for my bobbleheads, Red…er, Ginger.”
Ugh, I hate that one too.Originality is one of Dylan’s strong suits.
Without another word, I slam the door shut before he can say another stupid word. “Fuck!” I say loud enough for him to hear because I don’t care. I triple lock the door, then stomp back to my bedroom.
There’s no way I’m going to sleep now, so I grab my computer and decide to write the paper that’s not due for two weeks. “Might as well get something done.”
Tomorrow, classes are going to suck having had no sleep, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.
