snap. A couple other students look up, so I lower my voice to a whisper. “We had sex, and then he decided once was enough. He’s moving on, and so am I.”
“Ruby—” he says with a frown, but I don’t let it go any further than that. I can’t.
Because for as much as I’ve pulled myself together, he’s right. I’m not, in any way, fine.
“Just forget it, Kev. Please. I need you to forget it.”
He studies me closely and then, finally, nods. I take a deep breath and focus back on my computer.
Caplin Hawkins is nothing but a memory.
“I’ll just say this,” Kevin whispers, and I look up from my computer with a scowl. “I feel sorry for all the men in your future.”
The fact that I can’t refute his statement makes my stomach churn.
I hate it, actually, because there’s far too much truth in Kev’s words.
Fuck you, Cap. Fuck you and the handsome, charming, deceiving-manwhore-ship you rode in on. You will not ruin me for all other men. You won’t. I won’t let you. I give myself a scorned woman’s version of a mental pep talk.
I just hope that one day, I’ll actually believe it, too.
Cap
An alarm for book club goes off on my phone, and I shut it down without even looking. I know what time it is, goddamn calendar alert system. I don’t need you mocking me.
My phone hits the sofa table behind my couch with a clatter, and I pull the blanket up higher on my chest. There’s a stain from something right by my nose, but I don’t bother to inspect it.
It’s been eight days since I saw Ruby—since I let her go—and I’m a fucking mess.
Filth, loneliness, and self-loathing. This is my life now.
I grab the remote from underneath a Chinese food container and pump up the volume on Wedding Crashers to an ungodly decibel. The next block over can hear it, I’m sure, but my pain is too loud to back it off at all.
Vince Vaughn is freaking out about being tied to his bed by a hot Isla Fisher, and my face feels wet with shame.
“You don’t love her,” I say at the top of my lungs to Vince. “You don’t even know what love is!”
The remote handy, I toss it at the screen, but my pass is a mess. My hand is covered in grease and the remote something else, and I released it way too soon.
I groan at the thought.
Too soon. I released her too soon.
I am my own waking nightmare. A sad sack of a human being with nothing left but my own useless dick and the memories of the woman I let get away.
Ruby’s face replaces Isla’s in my mind, and I cry out, “Whyyyyy? Why am I such an idiot?”
I jump up off the couch with the blanket wrapped around me and head for the TV in a rush. I’m gonna smash this motherfucker right into the place I wish I were—oblivion.
I stumble in the blanket, unsteady on my feet after spending a week doing nothing but wallowing, and then trip over my own foot.
I land safely with a bounce on the floor next to my coffee table and smile triumphantly at my success. “Ha!” I yell. “Take that, you blanket bastard son of a bitch! You can’t defeat Caplin Hawkins! The only fucker who can bring him down is Caplin Hawkins himse—”
In a flash of light and a blur of ceiling, I accidentally set my other foot down on an empty bottle of vodka and go ass over end. My body twists and twirls, wrapped tightly in the blanket, and land smack-dab on the corner of the coffee table—with my head.
“Is that…is he naked? Oh, what the fuck.”
Voices fill my ears—familiar voices, at that—and I blink open my eyes to find myself cocooned beneath the fucking blanket that tried to kill me.
“Come on, guys, just fucking deal with it. He’s in crisis, and he needs us.”
Jesus Christ. They’ve brought the fucking book club to my apartment.
I don’t have time for your stupid book club games, you bastards!
A sob escapes my throat. I can’t help it. Thinking about books makes me think about Ruby, and fuck everything that isn’t her. Fuck me. Fuck my idiot friends. Fuck it all!
I hear shuffling and more moronic chattering around me, and I sob louder into the blankets. “What are you doing here?” I yell. “And how in the fuck did you get in here?”
“A key,” someone I know to be