Page 22 of Unstoppable You

my bad

that wasn 4 u

I managed to hold in a scream. BARELY.

This fucking fucker busted my heart and then he busted my phone with his mediocre limp dick.

His dick that had never satisfied me, by the way. Not once. Shaking with rage, I managed to type out a response and send it, even with my messed-up screen.

I faked all my orgasms

I could have sent more than that, but that sent a pretty clear message. I stormed up the stairs to my apartment, still trembling with anger at this man who had stolen so much of my time.

My phone chimed with further responses from Connor, but I just turned off my notifications and tore off my clothes, stomping my way to the shower.

I was going out tonight and I was going to look hot as fuck and I was going to get smashed.

Fuck Connor and his fucking dick.

* * *

Two hours later,I didn’t care so much about my broken phone and had made several new friends at the bar I’d just kind of wandered into. It was a grungier place than I’d normally patronize, but tonight I was all about doing shit that I wouldn’t normally do. Like going to a bar alone.

So far, several dudes who looked like they might be in a motorcycle gang had listened to me tell them all about my cheating boyfriend, had done shots with me, and were now giving me their best life advice. Not that I was going to remember it tomorrow. I’d also become besties with the elder lady bartender who had a smoker’s voice and so many blurry tattoos that I couldn’t even begin to tell what they were.

“You doing okay, hon?” she came over and asked as I swayed on my stool. God, I hadn’t felt this good in a long time. Warm and floaty and like I had no fucks left to give. I couldn’t really feel my face, but feeling your face was overrated.

This wasfun. I wanted to have more fun. Not that staying up all night reading a really good romance wasn’t a good time, or having wings with Larison and Jo wasn’t a blast. I wanted different fun. New fun. The kind of fun I’d always held myself back from participating in because I didn’t want to get into imaginary trouble.

Whenever other people told stories of goofy things they’d done when they were kids, I always had to hope they weren’t going to ask me for any of mine. Because I didn’t have any. I had never stolen a piece of candy, never cheated on a test, never skipped school, never stepped one tiny toe out of line. Ever. Not once.

People always called me a “good girl” in a derisive way, and that had hurt, but I had been. I’d been a quintessential good girl. My parents had zero complaints. I cleaned my room and did my homework and never gave them any trouble. Never snuck out, never drank underage, never lied to them.

They’d bragged about me to anyone who would listen, how they wished they’d had another child, but they were worried they wouldn’t get one as perfect as me.

Perfect.

Look at where perfect had gotten me! I’d been the perfect girlfriend too, and Connor had screwed me over. Being good hadn’t made him love me. Hadn’t made him treat me well. Hadn’t given me anything but a broken heart.

“Fuck being good!” I yelled, though all of my words sort of mushed together, but everyone cheered me anyway.

“Fuck being good,” I yelled again, more clearly.

The bartender laughed.

“Hon, I think you’re done for the night. Let’s get you home.”

Somehow, a very nice bouncer at the bar who was built like a teddy bear on steroids got me into a car that took me to my apartment. Digging into my reserves of sobriety, I managed to crawl my way up the stairs and get my door unlocked. Couldn’t make it to my bedroom, but I flopped my way to the couch and managed to get most of my body onto it.

Close enough.

* * *

I wasn’t feeling sogood the next morning, though. There was a price for my night of recklessness, and I moaned myself awake as the sun streamed in through the curtains as if it had a vendetta against me.

“Nooo,” I moaned, throwing my arm over my eyes to try and block out the light. A moment later my stomach heaved, and I had to bolt to the bathroom where my body tried to turn itself inside out. Violently.

Once I had everything out, I slumped on the bathroom floor and rested my cheek on the bathtub. Ohhhh. That was nice.

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