heart rate. “What the hell is the matter with you? You just took five years off my life!”
“Good.”
I quirk a brow. “So you enjoy taking years off my life? That’s wonderful, Roman. Such a stand-up guy.”
He pushes off the column, stepping closer to my side of the yard. Even in the dark, I can clearly see every slab of corded muscle. “And you really think you’re any better than me?”
“Seeing as I don’t dip my dick into anything that has boobs and a vagina, yeah, I’d say I’m a whole lot better than you.”
He smiles at me coldly, and I feel the effects of it like a shot to the chest. I hide my wince. “You’re awfully worried about my sex life, Olivia. What’s the matter?”
My lips thin into a grim line, my frustration with him billowing just below the surface, threatening to boil over. “I’m not worried about anything but my lawn and the state of this neighborhood. It doesn’t look favorable when you have a neighbor that lets floozies leave his house at all hours of the night.”
“If it bothers you so much, don’t look out the window, babe.”
My frustration only grows to new heights at the use of the word “babe.” My hands ball into fists at my sides, causing my nails to dig into the flesh of my palms. “One, don’t call me babe. And two, I haven’t been looking out of the window.”
“Then how would you know I have ‘floozies’ coming and going?” He smirks, clearly thinking he’s caught me.
I roll my eyes. “Get over yourself. And get yourself checked for gonorrhea, while you’re at it, dickhead.” I turn on my heels, stomping back toward my house. I hear his laughter behind me. He’s enjoying this. He enjoys pissing me off.
“Good night, Olivia.”
“Fuck off,” I holler, before slamming the front door behind me.
My cell rings on the kitchen table, dragging my attention away from the asshole next door and our encounter. For that, I’m all too thankful. I answer, forcing a smile into my tone, for my mother’s sake. She’s been calling every week, demanding I give her doctor updates. I’ve lied and told her I’m looking into it, but the truth is, I haven’t even opened the email she sent. I don’t want to face my reality and deal with more appointments and more doctors. More of the same thing.
I’ve had a nice reprieve from all that since moving here to Campbell. I should’ve figured that wouldn’t last for long.
“Make any appointments yet?” she asks, tone hopeful.
“Called two doctors. We’ll see how it goes.”
My mom’s silence prompts me to pull the phone away from my ear, making sure she’s still on the line.
“Mom?”
“Are you lying, Olivia?” she asks, in that tone of voice I’m all too familiar with. It’s the tone of my childhood. The same one she’d always use when she knew I was lying.
“What?” I feign innocence. “About what?”
I suddenly feel like I have cotton mouth, and I’m a lying teenager all over again, fibbing to my parents, so I can go out and party with my friends, after they’d already told me no.
“About the doctors. Who did you call?”
I can practically see her crossing her delicate arms over her ample chest. “I, uh, I called the first two. Figured it was safest to start at the top of the list.”
“Olivia.” The warning in her voice is clear, and it prompts me to roll my eyes.
“Okay, fine, I’ll call tomorrow. Shouldn’t you be asleep anyway? It’s late.”
“Don’t divert. All we want to do is make sure you’re okay. You know that, right? Your health, whether it’s mental or physical, we just want to know you’re okay, sweetheart.”
I blow out a guilty sigh. “I know, Mom.”
“Change Your Life”—Kehlani Ft. Jhené Aiko
After another long day at work, Atticus, one of my friends at the clinic, recommends we all head to the bar for a night out. Cole’s Bar has become a place we frequent after our shifts. Since it’s close to the clinic, and apparently, Atticus is friends with the owner, Cole, it’s the only bar that makes sense. I’ve never been a barhopping kind of girl, but here, with how laidback and chill this place is, I can definitely see its appeal. It’s a kicked back bar that caters to everyone, from all walks of life. I’ve seen men in fancy suits walk in, college dudes wearing jerseys, groups of women having a girls’ night out, and plenty of other stereotypes, too.
Once we