Page 4 of Boyfriend From Hell
Gracie’s eyebrow cocked up again as she shifted to stand.
“I’m serious! No sarcasm! I really do appreciate it.” I nudged her foot with mine beneath the table. “Bestie.”
Gracie cringed, “Ew, you know I hate when people say that! I’m serious though Deer, Felixisa dick andyouneed some dick. Seriously, that neighbor. Or Vince’s coworker?” She eyed me and winked.
I gave a soft laugh. Honestly, it was a relief Vince needed her to run around after this, that gave me a perfect excuse to call an end to this little coffee date so I could go home and rot on the couch in solitude. I sure as hell am not going to—what? Waltz over to my neighbor’s door and say, ‘Hey it’s my birthday and my ex-boyfriend is ghosting me, wanna come over Mr. Stranger-I’ve-Never-Spoken-To?’—Yeah, no.
“Last call for any sad bitches that don’t want to be alone on their birthday,” Gracie offered.
“I’m good, I promise. It’s just a birthday, and you already treated me to a coffee. Besides, I have a hot date tonight with a bottle of wine, a marathon of shitty rom-coms, and my laptop.” I shifted in my chair, scooting back just enough to insinuate that I was ready to leave too.
“Okay.” She reached behind her and adjusted her purse. “Just, text me if you change your mind or if you want to do somethinglater, alright?”
After a year in this city, I had to admit it wasn’t much different from home—chaotic, swarming with people... just less organized. Speaking of less organized, in the entire year I’d been staying here, this was the first time I’d managed to lock myself out of my apartment. I cracked my neck, pulled my shoulder blades together in a stretch, and sighed. The last-minute holiday I’d decided to take had better be worth it, considering I now faced the option of sleeping outside my door tonight, or knocking on the doors of my neighbors to see if anyone would be open to helping me out.
Come to think of it, that might not be such a bad idea. It would be the perfect excuse to meet the cute redhead who moved in across the hall.
I flipped a metaphorical coin—heads, I took this dumb little error on the chin and slept in the doorway; tails, I take a leap of faith and use this as an opportunity to meet my neighbor.
Deer? Was it?
I was pretty sure that was her name, I remembered when the blond came by to help her move in. That girl's loud mewling grated against my brain with talons I hadn’t known existed.Her voice was so high-pitched and shrill. I shuddered just remembering the caw of her words.
‘Deer, oh my god, look at this space! It’s too cute! It’s perfect!’ I grimaced at the memory that flashed through my mind of how that woman’s voice breached the paper-thin walls of my apartment that day to punch me right in the ear drum. I’d made it a point to sneak down the hall as unnoticed as possible that day—but I failed miserably.
It was like that blonde’s eyes were a heat seeking missile! The moment I stepped foot outside my tiny space; I could feel her hungry gaze raking over my body. I didn’t need to look at her to know what that succubus-like woman was thinking. In fact, I made an aggressive point to shun her thoughts from my mind. Instead, I tuned into the somber thoughts of her friend.
Some asshole had wrecked that girl’s heart and left it with hardly a pulse. I had never heard or sensed such pain from something that wasn’t even close to the brink of death. To be fair though, I had been listening in on her thoughts for a while now and every part of me was convinced I could fix her—that I could be the glue that bound that broken heart of hers back together.
“That settles that,” I mumbled to myself and ran my fingers through my hair, hoping the strands cooperated. I had been nervously awaiting this moment.
Today’s the day I meet the girl of my nightmares, formally of course.
After all, it was no coincidence I chose Portland to spend my vacation. I had made it a hobby of watching Deer from a distance for quite some time.
I kicked my shoes off and left them by the front door, then made a beeline for the kitchen. Now that I was home safe and in the seclusion of my own space, my heart ached and my mind wandered to trying to call Felix again. Was he really not going to send me any type of message or anything to wish me a happy birthday? That’s the bare minimum a person could do! I’d think after spending years with someone, they’d at least have the decency to reach out. It’s not like he was an ex from years ago; it’s only been a few months!
The whole apartment was dark—which was odd because I typically leave at least one of the lights on when I go out in the evening. My mind wandered to my ex for the thousandth time that day and it felt like an iron fist gripped my insides. The feeling was enough to make me want to hurl. Who knew sadness could actually make you feel physically sick!
No matter how hard I tried, day in and day out—I couldn’t help but wonder, did he even miss me? The iron fist in my gut seemed to squeeze tighter and it honestly felt as if I’d eaten an entire batch of spoiled oysters. I lazily dragged my hand across the light switch that sat on the wall just outside the kitchen. The ceiling lights flickered on immediately. At least here, in myshabby apartment, I didn’t feel the need to put on a brave face and pretend that all was “A-okay in Deer-land!”.
I knew he didn’t miss me.
Of all the things that relationship taught me, living in solitude was unfortunately one of them. I really didn’t mind being home alone so often. Our house—Felix’s house—stopped feeling empty not long after he started leaving on work trips. Now, this didn’t feel much different—just about 2,000 square feet smaller.
I walked the short distance to the kitchen and swung open the fridge where my wine (and its half-drunk friends) lay dormant, and hopefully perfectly chilled. I snagged one without bothering to look, then checked the door with my hip, closing it with a rattle. My eyes lingered on the pastry I bought myself yesterday for today—sad, I know.
With a sigh, I reached over the island from where I stood near the fridge and snatched the crinkled brown paper bag. It was heavier than I had remembered (I probably didn’t need to get the largest cupcake in the case, but dark times called for darker measures). I reached into the bag, already salivating and ready for the sweet release of sugar when my hand brushed something hard and cold.
I cringed, reaching my hand further into the bag as the scratchy paper chewed at the crook of my elbow with its rough edges.What the hell is that?
I pulled out a small to-go box, before I cracked it open—to make sure it was safe, of course. The large pale pink frosted cupcake sat perched in gleaming golden foil, with a flower of white icing dolloped on top. I had bought two, but one barelysurvived the night. Something about sugar turned me into a dessert fiend.
I snorted at the sight, but the decadent smell of confection infiltrated my nostrils, immediately making my mouth begin to water again.
What else did I even buy?I only remembered buying the cupcake.
Shoving my arm back into the bag, I fumbled for the object that gave it all its weight and pulled it out. The bag crinkled loudly, as if in revolt. A delicately wrapped rectangle—heavier than I expected—had been pressed to the bottom. Pulling the wrapped thing from the bag, I took a second to marvel at the wrapping paper. It had a thin, almost satin-y feel, small swans were etched in gold along the gleaming creamy surface. A slow smile crept across my lips, shoulder checking my sadness.
