CHAPTERONE
Six Years Ago
“I’m not sure what you’re not comprehending, Rosie. You either get a fucking job and throw down on a portion of the rent, or you find somewhere else to stay. It’s not like you’re doing anything else to help us with this fucking house.” Brent slammed the dresser drawer shut, smashing the arm of a t-shirt as he did. My boyfriend was such an asshole—so hot and cold about literally everything.
“You can stay here as long as you need, babe.”
“Don’t worry about rent, babe. Focus on finding a job.”
My plan was never to stay here permanently, but I needed more time to get on my feet. I just moved here because of him. We weren’t serious enough to move in together, but a fresh start sounded like exactly what I needed, so I figured, why not? I’d get a studio, find a job, screw my boyfriend.
Life would be easy.
Except it wasn’t. Finding a job was proving to be a little more difficult than I had initially thought, but it was fine. I just needed to lower my standards of where I was applying.
Once I did, I had three interviews lined up. One of them was bound to hire me.Hopefully.
The grocery store would, no doubt. Who got turned away by a grocery store?
It’d been two months, and I didn’t want to be in Brent’s bed every night any more than he wanted me in it. We had a very… relaxed relationship. And by relaxed I mean, we played the part of boyfriend/girlfriend when we felt like it but weren’t so serious that we were discussing solid plans about our future.
And before you go chastising me and thinking,‘but Rosie, you moved for him’,just remember, I moved forme. He just happened to present me with a place to stay and a crutch to lean against as I got settled.
Brent and I were not headed toward Mr. and Mrs., that was for damn sure.
Sounds awful, right? I did love Brent. I just didn’t see us growing old together. He was my right now, not my forever. There was a difference.
“Why would I help with the house when I'm not the one who makes the mess? I keep my shit clean. It’s really not that hard, Brent. You and your brother should figure out how to do the same.”
“You’re such a fucking bitch sometimes, you know that, right? I think I’ve been more than fair to you, Rosie, and I’m done with you and your games.”
I rolled my eyes and glanced down at my black-painted nails in boredom. “Yeah, yeah, Brent. Done with me until tonight, when you beg me to spread my legs.”
“I don’t beg for shit.”
“Keep telling yourself that. I’ll keep them closed for a while and we’ll see how long you can hold out for.”
“You think I won’t go elsewhere?”
“Don’t care.”
“We’ll see how much you don’t care later when I make your ass sleep on the couch and you have to listen to me pound into someone else through these paper-thin walls.”
“Go for it. I’ll just crawl into your brother’s bed,” I spat, my heart skipping a beat at the very thought of it.
See, while I may have met Brent first, it was hard to deny the attraction I had for his brother.
Brent was your classic all-star, preppy, clean-cut, boy-next-door. The type who was the perfect person to bring home to your parents and start making lifelong plans with.
On the outside.
On theinside, he could be a real-fucking jerk. Like, want to scratch his eyes out and punch him in the nuts, kind of jerk.
It was baffling how he’d somehow wormed his way inside of my heart.
We’d been together for over a year now, if you don’t count the month we were broken up. Ididcare about him. Honestly, what we had worked for us. And when he wasn’t being a raging dickwad, Brent was actually very sweet and attentive. We had fun together. High highs. Low lows.
Toxic, I know. What I just described was practically the definition of a walking red flag.
