14. His Ex
1495 Words
Emily
My brain tries to catch up with the insanity happening right now.
I wipe liquid out of my eyes angrily and glare at the three girls.
“Listen,” I say, trying to keep my voice level even though latte is literally dripping down my chin, “I don’t even know you. I think you might be mistaken or something.”
Her eyes narrow dangerously. “Don’t play dumb.”
“I’m not playing anything,” I snap. “You just threw a drink in my face like a f*****g psycho.”
The brunette behind her crosses her arms. “We saw you leaving his room yesterday.”
Oh hell no.
Realization slowly crawls into my brain.
Damien.
These lunatics are here because of f**k ass Damien.
Or maybe this one is the so-called ex he mentioned.
That would explain the attitude.
I stare at them for a second.
Then I start laughing.
I cannot help it. The whole situation is so ridiculous that the laugh just bursts out of me before I can stop it.
The blonde looks deeply offended.
“What’s so funny?”
“You,” I say, grabbing a stack of napkins and wiping my face. “You’re assaulting random women in public over a man who probably doesn’t even know you exist.”
The redhead gasps like I just kicked a puppy.
The blonde steps closer to my table.
Her eyes are blazing now like she is ready to throw hands in the middle of a cafe. “You think you’re funny?”
“No,” I say calmly while dabbing my soaked shirt. “I think you’re embarrassing yourself.”
Gasps ripple through the cafe. I guess everyone decided lunch comes with free drama today.
The brunette mutters something under her breath but I ignore her.
The blonde leans forward slightly, towering over me. “Stay away from Damien,” she says slowly.
I stare right back at her. Then I shrug.“Tell him that.”
Her jaw tightens. “He’s mine.”
I snort.
“Girl,” I say, grabbing another napkin and patting my hair, “if Damien Ferrari belongs to anyone it sure as hell isn’t you.”
Her face turns red so fast it is actually impressive.
The cafe has gone completely silent now.
Every single person in here is watching us.
Fantastic.
Exactly how I wanted to spend my lunch break. Wet, sticky, and arguing with a crazy ass stranger about a man who has personally brought nothing but chaos into my life.
My life is truly amazing.
“I’m warning you,” she says sharply. “The next time you won’t be so lucky. Stay the f**k away.”
I scoff and shake my head slowly.
She flips her hair dramatically and turns around, marching out of the cafe.
The brunette and the redhead follow right behind her like loyal little bodyguards.
For about three seconds the cafe is completely silent. Then the whispers start.
I slowly sit back down in my chair and stare at my empty glass.
“Wow,” I mutter to myself. “That was refreshing.”
A guy at the next table snorts into his coffee and immediately pretends to be very interested in his laptop when I glance at him.
I grab a handful of napkins and start wiping my face again.
My hair is sticky. My shirt is sticky. My dignity is also a little sticky.
This is fantastic.
I look down at my notebook where Damien’s schedule is still open.
His name is written right at the top of the page.
I stare at it for a long second.
“You,” I tell the notebook quietly, “are officially a problem.”
Because in less than twenty four hours this man has managed to pin me to a bed, make my brain malfunction, and now apparently summon a jealous ex to publicly attack me with beverages.
I rub my forehead.
This job is going to kill me.
I try using the napkins to clean my shirt but honestly it does absolutely nothing. The sticky stain just spreads around like it owns the fabric now.
Great.
My clothes are officially ruined because of that crazy blonde witch.
I stare down at my shirt and sigh.
This is all Damien’s fault.
If that man did not exist in my life right now I would be peacefully eating lunch instead of looking like I got attacked by a fruit juice tornado.
I pull out my phone and dial his number.
The phone rings. And rings. And rings.
He does not pick up. My eyebrow twitches.
What the hell?
I try again. But still nothing.
I lower the phone slowly and stare at the screen like it personally betrayed me.
I cannot believe this man.
I glance at the time and immediately groan.
My next class.
I grab my notebook, shove everything into my bag, and rush out of the cafe while still trying to wipe my shirt like a desperate i***t.
This is unbelievable.
I now have to sit through class looking like someone poured a drink on me.
Which someone did.
By the time I reach the classroom people are already seated.
And yes. Everyone notices.
The second I walk in, several heads turn. Some people stare while some whisper.
One guy straight up squints at my shirt.
I lift my chin and walk past them like a queen who definitely did not just survive a beverage assault.
Mind your business people.
I take my seat and open my notebook, pretending everything is normal even though I can still feel the sticky patch on my shirt.
Thankfully the class is short.
The professor talks for what feels like five minutes and suddenly we are dismissed.
Finally.
I pack my bag quickly and head out.
Now I have another problem….Hockey practice.
I pause in the hallway thinking. Maybe I can run back to the dorm and change.
No.
If I do that I will be late.
Nicole would have helped me bring a spare shirt but she is stuck in class right now.
I sigh.
Guess I’ll just suffer.
So I head straight to the rink looking like a slightly sticky disaster.
When I walk inside the arena the sound of skates scraping across the ice fills the air. The cold hits my face instantly and the place smells like ice, rubber, and asshole athletes.
Lovely.
Several of the hockey players are already there near the benches.
And unfortunately one of them is Jack.
He spots me immediately. Of course he does. Like a mosquito sensing fresh blood.
He nudges one of the guys beside him and then walks over with that annoying smirk on his face.
I sigh internally.
I really do not have time for this jerk today.
“What happened to you?” he asks, eyeing my shirt.
“Not your business.”
He laughs and looks back at his teammates.
“Damn Emily,” he says loudly. “You can’t even afford clean clothes now?”
A couple of the guys chuckle.
I stare at him. “You done?”
Jack shrugs. “I mean seriously,” he continues. “Did someone spill their drink on you or did you just forget how laundry works.”
More laughter from the group.
One of them mutters something about charity.
My patience is hanging by a thread.
“Wow,” I say slowly. “You boys really peaked in high school huh.”
Jack grins like he thinks this is hilarious.
“At least we’re not walking around campus looking homeless.”
“Relax,” I reply. “Not everyone’s personality revolves around a locker room.”
A couple of the guys stop laughing.
Jack’s smile tightens. Then something catches my eye.
I glance past them toward the entrance of the rink.
A group of girls is walking in. They are wearing matching cheerleader outfits.Short skirts, bright colors, and perfect hair.
And right at the front of them is a very familiar blonde.
My eyes narrow. “Oh hell no,” I mutter.
Jack notices my expression. “What?”
I nod toward the entrance. “What is she doing here?”
He turns his head and immediately smiles.
“Oh,” he says casually. “You mean Damien’s girlfriend. Bianca.”
My stomach does a weird little flip.
He smirks. “She’s the head cheerleader.”
I watch as she walks confidently toward the rink with the other girls trailing behind her.
Of course she is the head cheerleader.
Jack whistles under his breath. “Well look at that,” he says. “She’s heading this way.”
Fantastic.
Exactly what I need right now.
Another round with the crazy ass blonde.
Jack glances at me with a wicked grin. “Looks like you’re about to learn not to mess with Bianca’s man.”
Oh, really?
Well this time…I'm not backing down.
- Writer
