I reel back, my feet falling back onto the floor and head shaking comically. “Damn. I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at once.”
It definitely is.
There’s no time for me to worry about whether Locke thinks I’ve just insulted him, because he laughs instantly.
“It is, isn’t it?” He nods. “That’s good.”
He doesn’t have to explain.
Over the duration of two and a half films, he’s laughed, started conversations, extended his speech and most of all, hasn’t fidgeted with his glasses once.
I think we’re officially friends.
“It is good.” I agree, letting the dread of negativity be replaced with this. Having someone in the engineering program who doesn’t think the worst when they see me. If I’m generous to myself, maybe he’s one person who will actually take me seriously.
It’s that hope I hold onto when I ask, “Who was this guy? Do you know his name?”
Morbid curiosity, again.
Locke shakes his head, reaches for the popcorn, and frowns when he realizes it’s empty.
“No. Never spoke to him before. He’s always asleep in class. He must have some connection to get this far in Brookstone’s software engineering program.”
Lazy and connected to the software world?
I throw my head back in a groan. “Did he have curly red hair?”
“Yes.”
“Of fucking course it was him. Fucking bitch. That’s my ex’s little brother.”
This is what always comes after the humiliation. This is the emotion that gets invalidated by every guy who gets to see it, regardless of why or how it came to be.
Red-hot, pulsing anger.
My hands yank at my hair and I raise my voice unintentionally. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! I dated his brother in undergrad, for fucks sake, for no more than a semester.”
I can’t help myself. The frustration is radiating off me, throwing my body up to pace back and forth in front of the couch.
“And he broke up with me, mind you—and him and his brothers are still shit talking?!”
It’s me who can’t make eye contact now. My eyes jump between one wall to the other every few seconds, while I furiously dig my heels into the carpet.
“He did mention brothers.”
“I’m not even surprised.” I laugh at the absurdity of it. “Which one was it? Did he have an eyebrow piercing?”
“Uh. No. He had a nose piercing, though.”
“It was Trent! Did he make a comment about my ass, too?”
“Well. Yes.”
“Of fucking course!” I’m panting when I stop, from the flames of anger heating up every part of me. Hands on my hips, I stare at him. “This is why he’s my second least favorite ex. Because he was a package deal with his damn brothers, and they all sucked, and they never stopped making gross comments about me.
“You know it all started because I—I was his girlfriend, just to remind you—told him princess was a cute nickname and he thought it was so weird. But instead of telling me that, he wentand shit talked me with his brothers. Like, just say something? I didn’t know it was going to be such a big deal!”
“It started… because of a nickname?”
