Page 113 of Brat Baby
This was a fucking mistake.
A huge fucking mistake.
All of it.
Not just coming here.
But chasing after them.
My hands slam into the heavy fucking door, and I quickly start pulling until it opens enough for me to slip through. I don’t even realize I’m crying until the cool air of the lobby hits my wet cheeks.
Scrubbing my face, I approach the front desk, the woman who helped me in the process of scanning tickets for a group of people. She glances in my direction, then does a double-take. “I’ll be—oh, honey, what’s wrong?”
She immediately pauses in helping the group and rushes over to me. “What happened?”
“I just wa-want to leave,” I reply, with a hiccupped sob. “You said I can leave, right? I can just collect my things and go?”
She nods, eyes filled with worry. “Yes, but it’ll take me a minute. I just put your things in a locker. Can I call Master Derek for you?”
“No!” I all but scream it at her.
Her eyes widen, but she nods, giving my arm a pat. “Okay, it’s all okay. Go and take a seat over on the benches. I’ll grab your things, and you can be out of here.”
I nod and trudge over in that direction, aiming for the corner closest to the elevators and a little hidden from the club’s door.
Unfortunately, I don’t make it to the benches before the lobby is flooded with the noise of the club and my name is being shouted across the room.
“Emery!”
My entire body burns with shame and rejection.
Fuck it, I’m leaving without my shit. I’ll figure it out when I get back to campus, even if I have to walk the whole way there. I march up to the elevator and hit the call button.
Footsteps thunder toward me, slapping against the tiles as I desperately jab the button over and over again.
“Emery.” A hand wraps around my bicep and tugs, forcing me to turn. “Emery, wait.”
I rip my arm from Derek’s grip and glare up at him. “Don’t touch me.”
Darcy, Hudson, and Xavier appear on either of his sides, all of them breathing heavily as they stare at me.
Déjà vu hits like a fucking tsunami as they surround me with my back to the elevator doors.
Tears burn my throat. Fuck, I was so goddamn stupid.
They broke it off with me weeks ago.
I pursued them.
They continually turned me down.
But I didn’t give up.
Goddamn. I was a stage-five clinger, like those women in the rom-coms who annoy the fuck out of me.
Every muscle in my body hurts as I wrap my arms around myself.
“Emery, what—” Darcy starts to ask, but I cut him off.
