Page 2 of Love Complicated

Brie Baker’s. Myex-best friend.

Something inside me snaps like a rubber band on my heart. A reminder of why all this still hurts. Her. She did this. She destroyed perfection. Okay, perfection might be a loose term here, kinda like Brie’s ability to keep her legs closed, but you get my point, right?

She fucked me and our friendship over.

Guess whose car is parked out front of her house on the quiet dead-end? Brie’s. Okay, maybe I wasn’t justpassingby. I clearly made the turn onto her street.

Thousands of scenarios come to mind when my eyes narrow in on her red mustang. Mostly the ones of them in the backseat of her car, where the first infidelity took place, according to Austin. And how two grown adults even fit in the backseat of a mustang is beyond me.

That thought, one in a thousand, is the one that has me stopping my minivan in the middle of the road, opening the back hatch of said minivan and pulling out a T-ball bat. Not the greatest weapon of choice, but it’ll work.

I’m sure you can guess what happens next, yes? Have you heard that song by Carrie Underwood “Before He Cheats?” My reaction is something similar to those lyrics. Only it wasn’t before he cheated.

With the bat in hand, I take out her headlights, mirrors, and then the windshield. I’m actually impressed with how well I swing a bat for being out of practice.

I may or may not have keyed the word “Whore” into the hood. I don’t remember. In my fit of morning rage, I act on adrenaline and don’t recalleverythingI do in the three minutes it takes me to do it.

I do, however, take a moment to admire my handiwork and the old man out watering his lawn wearing his wife’s bathrobe, smiling at me. “What are you looking at?”

When did I turn into such a bitch?

The man shrugs. “Nothing.”

At least he didn’t call the police.

A few minutes later, I’m back on the road, crying, and attempting to make it to the school in the next fifteen minutes and not wreck my van in the process.

Now take a look at me. Red-faced, heart still pounding, glass on my floor mats, and wondering if I can go to jail for what I just did. What the fuck was I thinking?

This is what betrayal does to your mental state of mind. Makes you batshit crazy.

Literally.

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