Tripping (Iced #2) - Kristine Allen Page 0,55

happen! You jocks are all the same! Everything is about you! Whether it’s the game, the money, or your damn entitlement! I knew getting involved with you was a mistake.” I pushed around him to head inside.

“You’re being ridiculous!” he called after me. His footsteps neared, and I spun. It caused me to wobble on my feet, but I held up a hand, telling him to stay back.

“No. I think it’s best you leave.” My tone was sharp and my words clipped. His eyes widened in surprise.

“Are you serious? We’re fighting about your stupid stereotype of athletes again? I thought we were past that. I can’t believe you want me to leave because I asked you to go out of town with me. You’re overreacting and being ridiculous.” His demanding questions and the way he minimized my feelings set my teeth on edge.

Maybe I was being unreasonable, but my drunken interpretation of his response was that my feelings were stupid. That ripped through my emotions and left me raw.

“It’s not a ‘stupid stereotype.’ It’s what I know. I’m sorry you think my feelings and beliefs are stupid. I guess I’m glad we figured this out before we got too far into our relationship!” Inside my head, my subconscious was screaming at me to stop running my mouth. Yet the corner of my heart that I hadn’t yet surrendered demanded I protect it. The alcohol wasn’t helping anything either. If anything, it was cheering on my crazy behavior.

“What? Bleu, what are you saying? You can’t seriously be breaking up with me because I want you to go to my games this weekend.” He was incredulous, but there was a flicker of hurt in there before he extinguished it. I saw the anger blaze in his eyes as his nostrils flared.

“No,” I calmly replied. “I’m breaking up with you because you refuse to accept no for an answer and you refuse to see that my feelings matter, whether you agree with them or not. I care about my kids. They rely on me. I won’t let them down, and you can’t buy everything you want.”

“This is un-fucking-believable!” He pulled at his short hair before he threw his hands out in disbelief.

“Goodbye,” I said with finality and hurried into my house, tripping up the stairs in my haste. My heart was pounding, and my throat closed up as I realized what I’d done. By the time I’d decided I’d been a little rash—okay, a lot rash—it was too late. His door slammed, and I cringed as I heard the gravel fly from his expensive tires.

I’d give him time to cool off and then I’d talk to him tomorrow, I decided. He needed to understand that my feelings were valid.

Then again, maybe this was for the best. He’d shown me that I was right. He was just as egotistical and self-centered as I’d initially expected him to be. Our argument might’ve been over something trivial, but in my mind, it proved that my initial worries were justified.

Brick by painful brick, I built the wall back up around my heart.

“Driven Under”—Seether

The entire way home, I seethed. Angry at Bleu’s ridiculous reasoning and at my own response, I blared the hardest shit I could find through the speakers. The bass and death growls of one of Straight Wicked’s heaviest songs blasted through the high-tech sound system.

Goddamn it, I hadn’t been trying to throw my money around; I’d honestly been thinking of doing something nice for her. Granted, I’d also selfishly wanted her there for the weekend so I could spend Valentine’s Day with her.

That backfired like a motherfucker. Happy fucking Valentine’s Day to me.

When I got to my place, I stormed inside and slammed the door. One glass of whiskey went down in a single shot. I’d been careful at the bar because I tried not to drink a lot during the season—and I was driving. Now I didn’t care. Anger foolishly drove me.

After pouring a second generous glass of whiskey, I went to my room. I toed off my shoes in my closet and tossed my clothes in the hamper.

My phone rang, and I saw Kris’s name on the screen. I frowned. “Everything okay?” It was unusual for him to call me this late. Well, at one time it wouldn’t have been but he’d gone reclusive.

“No.”

“What can I do? Where are you?” Without hesitation, I set my glass down, ready to dress again and take an Uber to wherever he was. Our friendship may have