His friends all laugh, the sound in sharp contrast with the pain in my chest. He’s dating me as a front? To make Silas believe he isn’t the playboy everyone has been warning me he is? I swallow down the sob that threatens to rise up my throat and squeeze my eyes closed. It can’t be. I must have misheard it. Ryan… he loved going to game night at our local senior complex last week. He’s the one that’s constantly suggesting ways for us to give back to the community.
I think back to our relationship, wondering what was real and what wasn’t. Even the music in this place isn’t something I thought he enjoyed. If something as simple as his music taste was fake, then what else was?
“If she’s everything your brother wants, why not just give her to him? That’s bound to get you in his good graces.”
I jump when I hear glass shattering. I turn to peek outside, finding large shards right next to Ryan’s shoes. He’s staring his friend down, his expression terrifying. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s nothing like the sweet man I know.
“Fuck no. That bastard took everything from us. He gained control over all the Sinclair assets to the point that I have to beg him for a fucking job. I’m not giving him anything else. He can’t have her. Never her. I’m never letting anything that’s mine fall into his hands again. Nah. I’m going to use Alanna to gain his trust. Behind that rough exterior, he’s still the same guy I grew up with. He puts family above all else. Once I’m in, I’m taking back everything we lost, starting with our fucking house. I can’t wait to throw him out the way he did with my mother and me. That asshole is going to pay.”
I’m shaking so hard I’m certain someone is about to notice me and ask if I’m okay, betraying my presence. My thoughts are whirling, and I’m barely able to comprehend what I’m hearing. He’s using me? I’m just a way to improve his damn image?
I should’ve known. I should’ve believed everyone that warned me, everyone that told me that guys like Ryan don’t date girls like me. I wanted to feel loved so badly that I ignored the warning bells.
I can’t tell if I’m more angry or hurt. I’m mad at myself for being so blind, for truly believing someone could want me the way Ryan pretended to. By the time I walk out the door, my pain has given way to blinding fury.
That fucking asshole.
I gave him everything. All those evenings we stayed up together, the long talks, the dates. Was all of it fake? How much of the man I thought I knew was even real? To think he couldn’t even bear touching me… I can’t believe he faked it. At least I now no longer have to feel bad for never enjoying the sex.
I pause in the middle of the street, my eyes dropping to Ryan’s beloved car. Out of everything he showed me, his love for this stupid car was definitely real.
I glance at the keys in my hand and back at his car. Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m digging his house keys into the side of car, ruining what I’m sure is an expensive paint job. I take my time spelling out A S S H O L E, but it does nothing to ease my anger.
He used me. He took my love for my community and used it as a fucking PR stunt. He led me on, talking about how I belong in his family, making me think he was serious about me, when all along it was all a game to him.
I turn around, in search of something to throw at his car. I narrow my eyes when I find a couple of decently large rocks near the trees. I grab them and walk back, hesitating for a split second before throwing one of the rocks straight through his window. The glass shatters beautifully, damaging his leather seats, and I smile. It doesn’t make up for the pain he put me through, but it’s a start.
I lean into the car, digging my keys into the leather headrest, keying M I C R O D I C K and M I N U T E M A N into it. I can’t believe I suffered through shit sex over that asshole. I can’t believe I spent so much of my time with him. I ignored well-meant warnings because of him, alienating some of my closest friends. He played his part so well that I was none the wiser. If I hadn’t overheard him tonight, then what? Would he have wasted more of my time? How much of my life did he intend to sacrifice for his selfish, petty goals? For the first time in years, I felt like I belonged with someone, and it was all fake.
I wipe away the tears I hadn’t even realized had fallen and kick his door as hard as I can, denting it. I want him to find his car tomorrow and feel at least a bit of the pain he’s put me through. He clearly doesn’t care about me, but this? This will hurt him.