DEMETRIA
“You don’t give up, do you?” I asked, arms folded, glaring at him like the nuisance he was. “I’ve blocked you on everything, Mark. Yet here you are again, like gum on the bottom of my shoe.”
His jaw clenched. “Marion Whitfield? Really, Demetria?”
I laughed. Loud, sharp, and sarcastic. “Oh, so now you keep up with my love life? Funny how you couldn’t even keep up with me when we were together.”
He flinched but pushed forward. “He’s not good for you.”
“And you were?” I arched a brow. “Please. Spare me the revisionist history. You were only consistent at one thing: excuses.”
Mark stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I saw you at the gala. On social media. That dance, that kiss… You really think he’s serious about you? He’s Marion Whitfield. The man probably has women lined up i
