Page 39 of The Other Guy

“Who?” Jeff finally asks. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Sierra, babe, I’ve never met this person in my life.” He points to Whitney and she looks like she’s about to scratch his eyes out.

I bark out a hysterical laugh. “You fuckturd! You called her by name!”

He clamps his mouth shut.

Whitney’s tiny little fists ball. “You. You low down, dirty, little fucker! I cannot believe I listened to your lies! You told me you’d never connected with anyone before like we had! That the person you were with before me was like a dead fish in bed. This girl? Sierra? This is who you’re with?” She points to me with her nose scrunched up like she just smelled something disgusting. Looks at me with repulsion. “She’s… look at me and look at her! You’re living with this one?”

As if I’m the reason Jeff is the Toolbag that’s been using… Jack Cole’s number!

Oh.

My.

Gosh.

This isn’t my life. This can’t be.

Whitney is beautiful. No doubt about it. In fact, she’s almost intimidating with her gorgeous face and sparkling blue eyes and bright blonde hair with a few blue streaks. She’s the opposite of me in every way. From her height right down to the clothes she wears. I look down at myself in my cream colored baggy shirt that falls off one shoulder and black leggings. Little camel colored ankle boots with barely a heel on my feet. Whitney looks like she’s ready for a night on the town, though. Which is odd since we’re in the middle of a sports bar. But her four-inch bright red stilettos and tight leather pants work for her. Obviously, they worked for Jeff, too. Because despite being caught in the act, he’s doing exactly what he said Nick was doing to me earlier. Undressing her with his eyes.

Right.

In.

Front.

Of.

Me.

What a dick!

Once my brain comes full circle, I realize that I am who I am and I’m happy with that. I don’t need to dress to impress. I don’t need the approval of everyone — or anyone — around me to be happy. I love me.

I stand from my seat, barely coming up to her augmented boobs that are right in my face. But I don’t let the height difference continue to intimidate me. I look up at her, my finger pointing. “Listen here, Whitney, I’m a fucking catch. Do not throw that shit down on me just because you got played. And let me tell you something. You’re nothing special. Do you know he’s been doing this for WEEKS? Weeks! I’ve seen some of the messages this Textdoor Neighbor guy has received. And for what it’s worth, Textdoor Neighbor? That’s fucking hilarious. Hil-ar-i-ous. Whoever thought of it is a damn genius, I tell you. And you are nothing more than a one-night stand that this toolbag over here decided to have time and time and time again.

“And for another thing. Jeff? Fucking JEFF? You think he’s worth your anger and insults to me? The person who doesn’t deserve them? Look at him! He’s a nerd! A complete and total nerd. And if he thinks I was a dead fish in bed? It was because he would come in less than a minute so I didn’t even have time to be alive! Foreplay, Jeff. Learn it. Though, by the sounds of it from your other conquests, you took the time to learn for everyone but me. Fuckturd.”

By the time I’m finished ranting and raving, the entire bar is silent and staring at us. Whitney’s mouth is agape. Jeff is standing next to his chair like he’s about to tackle me to get me to shut up.

Nick is standing next to the table, arms crossed over his chest with an angry scowl aimed right at Jeff.

Whitney looks around, seemingly a little embarrassed, but then her eyes land on his plate in front of him. “You’re eating my sandwich. The one I told you that you had to try sometime.”

What a jerk. Sounded good, I guess.

“It’s good,” he says lamely.

Whitney reaches out and snatches his beer off the table, takes a large drink, gags, then dumps the rest of it over Jeff’s head. He stands, drenched in beer and looking completely appalled that this just happened. Mad, too, but the confusion is funnier.

I cover my mouth but it doesn’t hide the fact that I’m laughing. She eyes my beer but I’m too quick and take it before she can. “No way. I want mine.”

Nick smirks.

“You’re a dick.” Whitney stomps away on her heels, ones I would break an ankle on, but she does it with grace. And even though she was rude to me, I can’t help but admire her for it.

“Time for you to go,” Nick says to Jeff. “Your fun has ended. Officially. Don’t come back here, you got me?”

“You can’t kick me out!”

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