Chapter Eleven
Pride
T
he air in my chest shifts like someone yanked it out of me. My stomach drops. My moment of peace dies the second her eyes lock on mine. And just like that, it all comes rushing back—the fallout, the betrayal, the girl who my so-called friends chose over me.
She saunters in like she spotted my car and decided sabotaging me is better than eating. I truly doubt she’s here for anything other than to piss me off.
And it’s working.
My jaw goes rigid, shoulders knotting while heat crawls under my skin before she even hits the counter. Each step she takes is executed with the kind of precision that makes my blood boil. Her crooked little smile stretching wider the closer she gets.
She tilts her head like she’s a fucking health inspector, zeroing in on me like I’m her next violation. I can feel my temper clawing up my throat, begging for a way out.
“Hey, Jainey,” she purrs, dragging out my name. Voice sugar, but her muddy eyes shooting daggers. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”
I know exactly what this is—bait.
Fine. She wants me out of character? Then she’ll sure as hell get it.
“What the hell do you want, Samantha?” The words tear out, edged with everything I’m trying to hold back.
She shrugs casually, like she’s not twisting the knife. “To fuck with you, obviously. Why else would I come to this dump?”
She hangs on my reaction, eyes sharp as a flare as irritation burns through me. “Going to the lake with Jordan and Malaysia this weekend. Figured I’d stop by. Bonus seeing you here though—you look so… busy and tired. Poor thing.”
My blood simmers. This bitch.
I should’ve beat her ass back in high school, maybe then she would’ve thought twice before she wormed her way in here. But of course, she’d rather ruin my day than move on with her life. She probably came in here hoping to get fired.
Joke’s on her—I’d walk out of here before I let her have even a glimpse of satisfaction.
“Place your order or move,” I bite out, gripping the register so hard my knuckles ache. “I don’t give a fuck what you’re doing this weekend—or ever as a matter of fact.”
Her smirk only widens. She lifts her chin, eyes flicking down to her freshly done nails—the kind of expensive manicure that clearly gets touched up every week and a half.
“You really need to relax, Jainey. You can’t actually tell me you’re still bitter? It’s not my fault your friends liked me better. Sorry, I mean—like me better.”
The words gut me. Jordan. Malaysia. And, Jessica. All laughing with her instead of me—the sound of it still churns in my stomach. It’s been months, but hearing her say it out loud feels like being kicked in the ribs all over again. I tell myself I don’t care anymore, that I’m better off—but the truth is, it’s still fucking painful.
“You mean the friends I introduced you to, bitch?” My voice cuts through the room, a couple customers looking over. The air thickens between us, every breath laced with rage. “
They ran to you because you were available. You’re nothing but a daddy’s girl playing dress up with mommy and daddy’s money. You ‘re a fucking home-wrecker. That’s all you are, Samantha. But I don’t care anymore. I don’t need them and I sure as hell don’t need you.”
She leans closer, hissing just for me. “Or maybe they saw the real you. You’re dead weight—always whining about your mommy issues. It’s fucking draining. At least my parents have money. I’d never be caught working in a dump like this. And we both know—you care sweetie and it shows.”
That’s it. Restraint gone.
Every nerve in my body lights up like a fuse. All I see is red—her stupid little smirk, her annoying ass voice, and her perfect life she didn’t have to lift a damn finger for. Money she never earned. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to invite her into my circle. I actually used to feel bad for her back then.
So much for me trying to be nice.
I should ignore her. But the part of me that’s done being quiet—the part she’s been begging to see—finally takes over.
“You don’t know the first fucking thing about me,” I explode, voice tearing through the room. “You came in here for what? You haven’t ordered shit, all you’re doing is getting on my damn nerves—on purpose. Order or get the fuck out!”
Her chin lifts, victoriously, like she doesn’t need to say another word—she knows she’s got me by my imaginary balls..
