Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I see fucking red.
I throw the box right at his chest. “What is this?” I demand. “You’ve been in my apartment all freaking day, trashed my kitchen, and eaten all my food. I don’t even want to know what my bathroom looks like because I can guarantee you’ve destroyed that too.”
“Fuck, babe. Chill out.”
“I swear to God, Brandon. Tell me to chill out one more time. I dare you.”
“Geez. Alright. I’ll help you clean up.”
“Help?” I laugh. “You’ll clean it all and then you’ll get out of here.”
“What’s your problem? You’re being so uptight tonight. Did you have a shitty day or something?”
I stare at him blankly and watch as he raises from the couch and grabs two of his discarded empty beer cans, then leaves the other six. He waltzes into the kitchen as though I'm not about to lose my shit at him and laughs at the destruction he’s caused. “Yeah, I guess it’s fucking bad, huh?” he says. “But chill, seriously. It’s a good day. We should be celebrating your new job and my new PS5. Thanks, by the way.”
My brows take a dive. “Thanks?” I question as my stomach clenches again, giving me one hell of a bad feeling.
“Yeah,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “Though, if anything, you should be thanking me for taking that task off your hands. I had to wait in that line for fucking hours.”
“What are you talking about?” I rush out, annoyed that I don’t already have my answer.
“My PS5,” he clarifies. “My birthday is next week, and you said just yesterday that you didn’t have a present for me yet because you didn’t know what to get me. So, I went and did it for you. Now you don’t have to worry about getting me something.”
“Present?” I shriek before taking off like a bat out of hell. I race down to my shoebox of a bedroom and fly over the top of my double bed. I drop down onto the worn floorboards and throw my head to the ground, peering under my bed.
I shove my hand right under and start feeling around for the small box. My fingers curl around it, and bile rises in my throat, finding it without the lid.
I tear the box out from under my bed and pissed off tears of rage instantly spring from my eyes as I find it empty. There was nearly a thousand dollars of savings in there that I’d been working my ass off for, and he fucking took it to buy himself a goddamn Playstation.
My blood boils as I scoop up the box and storm right back out of my bedroom, finding Brandon in my kitchen, going through my fridge once again. “WHAT THE EVER LOVING FUCK IS THIS?” I demand, instantly straining my vocal cords and feeling my throat burn with my tone. “YOU TOOK MY MONEY. MY FUCKING MONEY. YOU HAD NO RIGHT.”
He looks at me as though he can’t possibly understand what my issue is. “Yeah, we just went over this. You were going to buy me a birthday present, and I took the job out of your hands. What’s the fucking problem? If you wanted to surprise me, it’s fine. I can close my eyes and pretend.”
“There was nearly a thousand dollars in there,” I say, my voice dropping to a low threat. “We’ve been together for like three seconds. I was going to get you some shitty sweater, not a fucking PS5. That was my fucking rent for next month. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? I’m a student living on my own. I can barely get by as it is.”
He gapes at me, completely offended by the shit spurting out of my mouth. “A fucking sweater? That’s what you were going to get me?”
“Yeah,” I grunt, “And you deserve much less. You’re a shitty boyfriend who can’t respect my privacy. I told you not to come into my apartment when I wasn’t here.”
“I’m your fucking boyfriend. I shouldn’t be told when I can and can’t come into your apartment. I have every right to be here.”
‘“THE HELL YOU DO,” I screech, reaching my boiling point. “You have no right to be here right now. Get your things and get out of my apartment, and NEVER COME BACK. I’m so fucking done with you. KC was right, you’re the worst boyfriend I’ve ever had. I’d prefer to date a brick wall. Now get out.”
Brandon clenches his jaw before his hand snakes out and swipes every last thing off my kitchen counter, smashing my cups and plates as food and scraps fly across the room. “This is bullshit,” he roars before storming into the living room and dropping down in front of the PS5. “I’ve done everything for you. I’ve sacrificed so much for you that you don’t even realize.”