13. My Man
1533 Words
Emily
Jack is standing there in the hallway like a bad smell that refuses to leave.
My eyebrows shoot up.
Before I can block the doorway he just pushes his way inside like the entitled asshole he’s always been.
I stare at his back in disbelief as he walks into my room and starts looking around like he’s doing a damn house inspection.
“So this is your room,” he says casually.
He glances at my desk, my books stacked everywhere, my messy notes, my bed.
“No wonder you never wanted me to visit.”
I cross my arms. “What do you want, Jack?”
He finally turns toward me. There’s this weird look on his face. Half annoyed. Half smug.
“Nothing,” he says with a shrug. “I just wanted to see what you’ve been up to.”
My eyes narrow.
“With Damien Ferrari.”
And there it is. Of course this is about Damien.
I laugh. I cannot help it.
It just slips out because the audacity of this man is actually hilarious.
“And that’s your business how?” I say, shaking my head.
Jack takes a few steps toward me.
Too close.
He always does this thing where he invades personal space like he thinks it’s intimidating.
“What do you mean how,” he says, lowering his voice. “Did you forget something?”
I raise an eyebrow.
“I’m your boyfriend.”
I stare at him for a second. Then I tilt my head slightly. “Ex boyfriend,” I correct.
He lets out this dry, irritated laugh and bites his lip. “What the f**k do you think you’re doing, Emily,” he mutters.
I blink at him. “What are you talking about?”
“You think you can just move on like that?”
I actually laugh again. “Jack. You cheated on me.”
His jaw tightens. “Because you weren’t trying.”
My brain pauses.
Did this i***t really just say that out loud?
“Because you didn’t give me attention,” he continues. “And now suddenly you’re all over Ferrari. You’re even going to practice to watch him.”
I stare at him in disbelief. I honestly cannot believe this bastard.
Is he serious right now?
“Are you hearing yourself,” I ask slowly.
But he’s already worked himself up. “Tell me something Emily,” he says bitterly. “I thought you didn’t give a f**k about money. But now suddenly you want Damien because he’s rich and popular.”
That’s it. My patience evaporates. “Get the f**k out.”
He ignores me completely. “Or maybe you just want to get f****d by him,” he growls.
My stomach twists in disgust.
“You acted all righteous when we were together but you’re just a f*****g desperate girl.”
My hand moves before my brain can even process it.
Smack.
The sound echoes in the room. Jack’s head snaps to the side.
For a second everything goes very still.
My palm stings but honestly it was worth it.
“You bastard,” I snap. “Get the f**k out of my room.”
Slowly he turns his head back toward me.
His eyes are dark now, angry, and ugly.
For a moment it looks like he might actually do something stupid.
I point toward the door. “Leave before I scream,” I say coldly.
He scoffs like I’m being dramatic. Then he runs his tongue along his teeth and steps back. “This isn’t over,” he mutters.
He turns and walks toward the door.
The second he steps into the hallway I slam it shut behind him with all my strength. The door bangs loudly, and I immediately lock it.
“Bastard.”
My whole body is shaking with anger.
I start pacing the room like a pissed off lion.
I cannot believe the nerve of that man. He cheats on me. Blames me for it. Then shows up in my dorm acting like I owe him something.
I drag both hands through my hair and groan.
I seriously dated that i***t.
Two whole years. Two years of my life wasted on that fool.Unbelievable.
……
The next day is absolute hell.
I sit through two lectures and absorb exactly zero information because my brain keeps replaying the same stupid scene over and over again.
Damien on top of me.
His stupid emerald eyes.
His stupid perfect face.
And unfortunately his very stupid huge c**k pressed against me.
I drop my head on my desk and groan quietly.
Why is my brain like this.
I should not be thinking about that. I am a nursing student. I am supposed to be thinking about anatomy and patient care and how to keep people alive. Not about the hockey captain’s anatomy which by the way my brain remembers in terrifying detail. Not even the stunt Jack pulled last night could save me.
I slap my notebook shut and drag my hands down my face.
Focus Emily.
Earlier this morning I called Grandpa before my first class just to check on him. He sounded fine which should make me feel better but somehow it doesn’t. Grandpa has always been the type to hide things if he thinks they might worry me.
Even if he was feeling awful he probably would not tell me.
That is just who he is.
He spent his entire life taking care of me and now that he is older he still acts like I am the fragile one.
It makes my chest ache every time.
Which is exactly why I cannot afford to mess up this job.
By noon my stomach is basically eating itself because I skipped breakfast. Mostly because I spent the morning cramming in reading between classes like the nerd I am.
So I head to the busiest cafe on campus to grab lunch.
The place is packed like always. The smell of coffee and toasted bread fills the air and students are crammed into every available table. People are typing on laptops, arguing about assignments, laughing loudly, and trying to survive the semester like the rest of us.
I order some sandwiches and a iced latte then grab a small table near the window.
While I wait I pull out my notebook.
If I am going to survive working with Damien I need structure.
Professional structure.
No chaos. No flirting. No stupid situations where he ends up on top of me.
I flip to a clean page and start writing his schedule.
Hockey practice times.
Workout sessions.
Recovery days.
Massage therapy days.
Ice baths.
Study blocks because apparently athletes here still have to pass classes like the rest of us.
I organize everything into neat little sections. Morning routines, training blocks, recovery hours, meals, and rest periods. The goal is to make his routine balanced so his body does not completely fall apart halfway through the season.
Honestly it feels good doing this.
Planning things is my comfort zone.
People are messy but schedules make sense.
My food arrives and I start eating while working through the routine. I take a sip of my latte and jot down another note about stretching sessions when suddenly I feel it.
That weird feeling. Like someone is standing right in front of you.
I look up…and wow.
A girl is standing at my table glaring at me.
The f**k?
She is tall. Really tall. The kind of tall that makes everyone else feel like a hobbit. Long blonde hair falls down her back in smooth waves and her sharp blue eyes look like they could freeze me. Her face is ridiculously beautiful in that intimidating supermodel way.
She is wearing a fitted pink sleeveless mini dress that hugs every curve of her body and high boots that make her even taller.
Behind her stand two other girls.
One brunette with glossy hair and one with bright red curls.
Both of them are very pretty. But the blonde is on another level.
I blink slowly. Who the hell are these people?
I have never seen them before in my life.
The blonde tilts her head slightly while studying me. “Is she the one?” she asks coldly.
The brunette leans forward and looks at me like I am some weird bug. “Yes,” she says. “That’s her. I’m sure.”
“Okay.”
I am literally about to ask what the hell they are talking about when the blonde suddenly reaches for my drink.
Before my brain can process anything she lifts the glass and dumps the entire thing straight onto my face.
Ice cold liquid splashes everywhere.
My hair. My shirt. My notebook. My dignity.
“What the f**k!” I jump to my feet so fast my chair nearly falls over.
Students nearby start staring.
The blonde slams the empty glass down on my table.
“Why the f**k are you messing with my man, you b***h?” she shouts.
I stand there dripping cold latte like a confused wet cat. “My what?”
“My man,” she repeats sharply.
- Writer
