“Ji-ah,” Jer corrects with a sharp point of the finger.
“Nu-uh,” I mock on a yank of the cord. “Go to your room and get your ass dressed. It’s karaoke time, bitch.”
To no surprise, it takes him longer to get ready than he initially swears.
Why simply swapping out his basketball shorts for his own nerd patch bearing jean bottoms we worked on and adding a bit of product into his hair takes almost half an hour is beyond me.
But if I had to guess?
He’s probably sexting someone.
Jericho practically lives and breathes pussy during offseason since he abides by a strict, almost completely celibate lifestyle from training camp to finals.
Our eventual migration from our rooms to the activity area is slowed by his texting – hence the idea he was probably sexting earlier – however, it’s my ex that can’t take the hint that ends up blocking our entrance to the endeavor.
“Hey J,” Wheeler slyly states, fidgeting hands finding their way to his pockets. “I haven’t seen you in a minute.”
“She’s beenbusy,” Jer retorts for me, frame leaning a bit forward, towering over the retired singer. “With herboyfriend.”
“Right,” brushes off the male on a step back before finding my gaze again. “Can we talk?”
“Our people are waiting for us,” announces my fraternal half.
“Can we just…” his eyes widen in an obvious imploring fashion, “talk for a minute?Alone?”
This time I offer him a surrendering nod, ready to end this stalking shit once and for all. “Okay.”
Jer’s brow scrunches in displeasure. “Nae-”
“I got this, Jericho.” Delivering his arm a reassuring pat is attached to a request. “Can you tell J.T. I’ll be right in?”
Post one long, skeptical stare, he too nods.
Accepts the situation.
Brushes past the problem in our path with a full body check.
Wheeler fumbles slightly out of the way prior to huffing, “I don’t get why he fucking hates me.”
“Could be because you cheated on me. Could be because you cheated on me with one ofhisexes. Or could be because I’ve politely and impolitely told you to fuck off alike and you won’t.” My arms fold firmly across my jean vest sporting chest. “You are one restraining order away from him legally possessing the ability to drown you in the ocean and call it self-defense.”
“He wouldn’t…”
“I highly suggest you don’t fuck around and find out.”
An undeniable cringe of discomfort crosses his face prompting me to say my peace.
“Look, Wheeler, we’re over. Completely. One hundred and ten percent. Ineverwanna date you again. Ineverwanna sleep with you again. Ineverwant another call or text from you again. We are through. Through, through.”
“Come on, J…Just give me one more chance.”
“There are no more chancestogive. Putting aside the amount of women you let turn your dick into their own personal microphone, you were a shitty boyfriend. You never listened to me-”
“I always listened to you!”
“Oh yeah? What’s my favorite band?”
“Um…Nickelback?”
