“Okay. Got it. So straight to a mental hospital it is.”
“Jesus. Can you just stop being a bitch for one second?”
“Call me a bitch one more time and I’ll slit your wrists for you,” I snap.
Here I am doing something nice for the guy, and he has the nerve to continue to insult me? I don’t know what kind of night he had, but nothing about his life could be worse than mine right now.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see his lips curving up into a wide grin.
“Bitch.” His voice is full of amusement. I glance over to see him holding his wrists out toward me.
Pulling over, I unlock the car doors as I whip my head toward him. “Get out.”
“Make me. Bitch.” He smirks.
“Asshole.”
“I claim that with pride, baby. You’re going to have to try harder than that if you want to hurt my feelings.”
“Pathetic.” I shoot back.
“I’ve already admitted that. Try again.”
I press my lips together, studying him. He is asking for it. He deserves it even. Since meeting him, he has done very little to earn my respect. Called me a bitch from night one, and hasn’t stopped, even after I gave him an amazing blow job.
Still, I shouldn’t sink to his level. He is clearly going through something. Having a bad night. And he did offer to kick Charles’ ass for me.
“Got nothing?” He raises an eyebrow, his lips almost dropping into a frown.
“You are a sad little boy,” I say. If he wants to be hurt, why should I deny him? I have more than enough reasons to inflict some pain for a change. “I’m so sorry your band is growing up and your mother loves you so much she moved here to be closer to you. You have a wonderful life and you take it for granted. It’sbeyond pathetic. You just want to waste your life fucking girls and playing shitty guitar.”
“Shitty guitar?” His eyes widen, full of disbelief. “You think I play shitty guitar? Have you not listened to any of our albums? You can insult every other part of my personality. Hell, tell me my cock is small compared to your piece of shit ex’s, but you cannot insult my guitar skills.”
“No? Why not? It’s not all that impressive.” I shrug. It’s a lie. He is a very skilled guitar player. Cameron’s goal is to be as good as him, and he is getting there. Ben has a level of skill very few can obtain. But if he is going to call me names, I’m going to push his buttons right back. “I don’t even like Haunting Memories,” I lie again. I’ve seen them live a few times, even when Cameron wasn’t on tour with them. I own a few albums and shirts. You don’t have a brother in a band and not learn to like the bands he likes too.
“You are such a lying bitch.” He laughs.
“Takes one to know one.”
“Nice come back. Did you learn that on the playground?”
“Did you learn to play guitar from the bands on the radio?”
“Oh God. That’s the meanest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“Good.”
“Jesus. You win. I will never call you a bitch again.”
“Liar.”
“Takes one to know one.” He smirks back. “Just take me home.”
Sighing, I let him put his address into my phone and begin to drive toward his house.
He doesn’t speak the rest of the ride. Neither do I. I don’t really know what I should say. What happens when I get him back to his place? Is he expecting me to go in and have sex with him? Was it just desperation that had him calling me tonight?
I glance over at him occasionally. He keeps his head forward but leaning against the window. His fingers grip at the edge of his shirt around his neck. He looks small like this. Harmless even. Like he wouldn’t be able to hurt a fly. Of course, I know better.
