Hellion, a New Adult Romance Novel(102)

“I thought he’d be at your place by now. I didn’t realize it was for all night. Don’t get mad at me.”

 

“I’m not. I have to go.” I’m about to hang up, but I hear her voice.

 

“What?”

 

“I said, don’t go flying off the handle and losing your shit on him, okay? This is all new for him. He needs time.”

 

“What?” Now I’m pissed. “You think I’m some kind of clingy bitch or something?”

 

“No, no, not at all. It’s just … Rebel has told me a lot about Mick and his history with DJ Foxx and all that, and I just think that this stuff with you is a bigger commitment than he’s ever made before and he needs to ease into it so it’s not so overwhelming. That’s all. No big deal.”

 

I can hardly breathe. I inhale and exhale a few times slowly to contain my anger. “DJ Foxx? Do you mean that chick spinning discs at the club?”

 

“Yes. Mick told you about her, right?”

 

“Nope.” I want to punch something but the only thing available is air. I swing a few times anyway, but it’s not very satisfying.

 

“Oh. Well. That sucks that I just said something, then, doesn’t it?”

 

“Might as well let the cat’s ass out of the bag too while you’re at it.” I sit down on the stairs, waiting for the death blow to my best-ever relationship.

 

“Listen, it’s no big deal. They just dated for a while and now they’re not.”

 

“A while? How long is a while?”

 

“Mmmm. A year maybe?” Her answer is barely a squeak but I hear it loud and clear.

 

“Gotta go. Talk to you later.” I hang up before she can say anything else. And then I turn my phone off so I can’t talk to anyone for the rest of the night. I hate the world and I really despise Mick right now. All I can see in my head is visions of him and DJ Twatbreath twerking it out on the dance floor. It makes me want to vomit. My heart feels like it’s shattered into a thousand pieces, maybe more.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

 

 

 

 

 

I SPEND AN HOUR TRYING to cook up excellent break-up scenes in my mind but nothing is working. Every scenario ends with me having a broken heart and Mick being an ice-cold d-bag. I can’t stand not knowing what’s happening to my life as it unfolds behind my back.

 

It only takes me thirty minutes to get dressed and made up, ready to break some hearts on the dance floor. I hate games. Ain’t nobody got time fo’ dat.

 

My dad is dead asleep, exhausted from taking care of my mom and Jersey, so I leave a note on the kitchen counter in the house we’re renting and take off. I’m at the club in less than a half hour, walking through the door like I own the place. That’s right, y’all. I got my butt lifters on. Gravity cannot touch my jiggly parts tonight.

 

The beat is familiar. This DJ Twatmonster or whatever her name is sucks. She just plays the same crap over and over and hopes nobody notices. Well, guess what cooter-breath! I noticed!

 

I scan the dance floor, the bar, and the empty DJ booth, but I don’t see anyone I recognize. I chew my lip as I consider what my next move should be.

 

“Hey there, gorgeous,” says a familiar voice.

 

I turn around and see Mark standing there, the sexy Paco Rabanne magazine model. I can’t help but smile. It’s so nice to see a familiar face when I’m this stressed out. “Hey there, Mark. What’s up?” He and I give each other a quick kiss on the cheek.

 

“You remembered my name. That’s a good sign, right?”

 

“Absolutely.” I keep smiling. He’s like a life preserver for me right now.

 

“Feel like dancing?” he asks.

 

“Sure. Lead the way.” I allow him to guide me to the floor, and together we find a spot under the flashing lights.

 

I try to stay interested in what he’s saying about the weather or some stupid shit, but I’m too busy looking around, wondering if coming here was a mistake. Maybe Teagan was wrong. Maybe Mick’s not here. I’m going to feel really stupid if he’s at my house right now waking up my dad. Guilt sneaks in, slithering like snake up my leg. It’s almost made it to my chest, ready to strangle me around my neck when I spot a familiar face.

 

Grrrr. Asshole alert.

 

Mick’s in the booth with DJ Fuckface and they’re wrapped around each other way too tightly for my taste. Chest pains. I have seriously bad chest pains.

 

“Are you okay?” Mark asks, following my gaze up to the booth above us.