Last night was one of them.
What kind of psycho rips roses to shreds with her bare hands while screaming like a lunatic? Shame runs through me.
This . . . is the level I’ve stooped to.
Strangely enough, last night was the first time I’ve slept well in weeks. As if releasing a little of the steam in the pressure cooker has somehow calmed my soul.
I don’t feel guilty for being so mean . . . normally, I would. But Jameson Miles is an enigma all of his own . . . one that I can no longer pity.
“I wouldn’t be friends with a selfish prick like you if you were the last person left on earth,” I said . . . screamed actually. It was a mean thing to say—the worst—but he got what he fucking deserved. The doors of the elevator in my building open, and I step out into the foyer and walk out into the street.
“What the hell happened here?” I hear the woman in front of me mutter under her breath as she stops and looks around at the carnage.
There are yellow rose petals strewn everywhere; flower buds that are squashed and bruised lie on the concrete. Out on the road the carcass of the flattened bouquet with the big cream satin bow lies.
Jesus . . .
I drop my head and stomp past the crazy. I glance up at the ceiling to see where the cameras are. I wonder if anyone saw it on the security footage.
I hope not . . . how embarrassing.
I get on my bus and open my Kindle. I’m not reading my usual rom-com genre. I can’t stand the thought of all that love bullshit. I’m mixing it up and reading Pet Sematary—maybe that’s it. Maybe Steven King is taking me to the dark side. The side where you don’t take shit, and payback on yellow roses is due.
Good for him . . . bring it the fuck on. I swipe to the next page.
Every dog has its day.
Jameson
I sip my coffee as I sit in the café across the street from Miles Media. I’ve been coming here the last few days before work. Alan told me that Emily used to come here with her friends. I’m hoping to run into one of them.
Why? I don’t know.
Emily’s words from last night are playing over and over in my mind.
I wouldn’t be friends with a selfish prick like you if you were the last person on earth . . . I wouldn’t want to be friends with me either if I were her.
I’ve never seen her so angry . . . or thin. She’s lost a lot of weight. I hate that I’ve put her through this shit.
I sip my coffee, and I feel a hand rest on my shoulder.
“Hey,” Tristan says as he sits down beside me on a stool.
“Hi.”
“Looking for Emily?” he says casually.
“Nope.”
“Liar,” he replies with a cheeky grin. “Hey, the boys and I have organized a trip to Vegas for us this weekend. The jet’s all lined up.”
I screw up my face. I could think of nothing worse.
“It’ll be great. Drinking, gambling. Join some beautiful women to the Miles-High Club. You need to snap out of this and get back on the horse. I’m thinking a blonde or two . . . forget about the brunettes for a while, and besides, we need to celebrate your innocence. Elliot and Christopher fly in on Friday.” He winks as he tries to sweeten the deal.
“Yeah, that sounds completely shit,” I mutter dryly.
“I don’t care what you say. You’re coming.”
I stare straight ahead. I’ve lost the ability to get excited about anything lately.
He falls serious. “I’m worried about you, Jay.”
I roll my eyes.
“We all are. You’re acting completely out of character.”
“I’m fine,” I murmur into my coffee. I look around once more, remembering why I’m here.
“Why don’t you just go to her house if you want to see her?” he says.
“I tried that last night.”
“How did it go?”
I puff air into my cheeks. “She went postal and . . .” I pause as I try to explain the situation. “I took her yellow roses, and she smashed the fuck out of them like a madman.”
“Yeah?” He smirks and then smiles broadly as if impressed. “Why would you take her yellow roses and not red ones?”
“I thought . . .” I exhale heavily. “I thought yellow was safe, signifying friendship so that she would talk to me. I just wanted to talk to her.”
“You didn’t tell her that, though, did you?”
“Yeah.”
He gives a subtle shake of the head as if I’m stupid. “How did that go down?”
“That’s about the time she turned into the Hulk.”