Page 69 of My Turn Petal
His stance seems off, his tone changes its pitch often, and I haven’t seen his face but I’m pretty sure he is a little drunk.
A few minutes of silence fill the charged air.
“Come on, Frankie,” he exclaims, “What does the math teacher know about your body?”
I pace toward her apartment door, if Frankie will open the door, I don’t want her to get hurt because of him.
My steps resound against the floor.
He spins to face me and I reply, “I know her body more than you do.”
“Seems like the teacher has some RAMS BALLS,” he emphasizes the last two words. His hands are fists at his sides, face ticking with agitation, but also amusement.
I don’t find this amusing at all.
Narrowing my eyes, “I wouldn’t do it if I were you.” I quickly warn yet the muscle in his jaw ticks violently. “I could cause serious damage, don’t do it,” I warn again.
In seconds, his fist flies toward my head but I swiftly move to the side.
All of my boxing sessions come in handy right now.
I swing my hand, and my hook is so quick to hit his jaw that nothing is blocking this smooth motion and the sound of us colliding echoes through the hallway. He falls to the floor—as I suspected, he is not entirely drunk but enough to lose his balance.
I can’t say I’m sorry about it, the piece of shit deserved it.
Frankie’s door is wide open, and her eyes bore into mine. “Theo.” Her voice is full of shock and wry.
“The fuck,” her ex says, “Look what he did to me.”
Nothing that he didn’t deserve.
“If you are bored with your life find someone else that is willing to put up with you.” I stroll past him, shielding Frankie. “She deserved better than how you treated her, now go, and don’t ever come back.”
His incredulous eyes look at me, baffled and dumbfounded.
“That’s what you want, Frankie?” He asks her.
“Yes, Jake. I moved on and I’m happy with Theo. This whole thing was unnecessary,” she averts her gaze at me.
I see her for a split second before I look down to the floor.
That was excessive. And not how I do things but I just saw red, knowing he was one of the men who treated her poorly and humiliated her for dealing with a hard condition, pissed me off. And on top of it all, he dares to come here and ask for a second chance.
In the two months of our arrangement, she opened up more about her past relationships. Some were good, some less. She told me the things that are going through her head—many random topics that she thinks are related to her condition. She even permitted me to read her journal which stunned me because I never even thought of asking her to read something so personal but she insisted.
I’m trying to do everything right.
Jake leaves with a bloodied Valentine’s gift from me, but I’m not feeling too happy about it.
“So when are you going to take me boxing?” her question confuses me and pulls me out of the conscience I’m developing for the asshole.
“I thought you were angry at me.”
“That was self-defense,” she wraps her arms around me, “I saw him coming at you first.” She takes my hand—the one I punched him with and kisses my knuckles. “Besides, what the hell was he thinking after two years? That banging on my door will get him inside my pants.” She laughs.
I kiss her freckled nose and reply, “If he only knew that when you truly trust someone you give them the spare key.” I smirk crawls on my face. “And then you get inside their pants every few hours.”
She grins at me. “I’m ready to go,” she says, brushing her lips on mine.
