𝐅𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 [𝟏𝟖+]

20

7.5k words. Comment or I'm going on a hiatus. jk but comment lol

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My eyes ran through the lines of the email for the umpteenth time of the day, an obtuse part of me hoping those words would be taken back or the email would disappear from my inbox as if it had never been in my phone. It had been nearly 20 hours since I had first seen it. Although initially I had clicked the phone off and pretended like nothing had happened, it was becoming frustratingly hard to stay equanimous despite those words.

I almost felt hurt. Almost.

My eyes burned and my chest clenched as I tried to stop the emotional riot inside me. It had taken all my self-respect to not pound on Cyrus' door and demand an explanation. To not call him and curse to the moon and back to my heart's content. To not face him and pester him about his woman.

Was she a brunette? Was she short? Was she smart? Did she have a degree in STEM? Did she earn more than I did? Were there more reasons he would pick someone? Even when every rational cell in my body called me irrotational for thinking about him with her and imagining him holding her hand with his ring on her finger, I couldn't make sense of the tightness inside me. Was he going to marry her? Would I have to watch him fawn some other woman because she was carrying his baby? Did he accidentally knock someone up? Would he kiss someone else in front of me? Would he —

"Cor, what's wrong?" Rosie's careful tone interrupted my thoughts.

Everything. Everything felt wrong. The thought of Cyrus with someone else felt like the sun had abandoned the earth, confiscating all light and warmth, leaving it to move in the dark with utter desultory.

"I need a drink!" I decided, cursing myself for sounding so pained and broken.

No more lamenting over men. Especially not over Cyrus.

Besides, Aphrodite Corrine Halifax wasn't a crier.

"You don't look fine. Do you want to talk about it?" Concerned eyes stared at me.

"A bottle of vodka."

Rosie's eyes flung from my phone screen to the empty tub in my hand. "That's the third tub of ice cream you've eaten. There are other dishes on the buffet too."

One of Rosie's many admirable yet pesky traits was being observant. The girl had X-ray scanners for her eyes. Even when she acted oblivious and otherwise engaged, she was blind to nothing. It wouldn't surprise me if she thought I was wallowing over Cyrus' fondness for his woman.

"How much would you hate me if I only ate ice cream?" I inquired, placing the empty tub back on the table.

"A ton!" She reasoned, "We have Mini Quiches, Baked Ziti, Tapas Platter, Chicken Enchiladas—"

I stopped listening.

Rosie had gone over the top to throw a profligate bachelorette party for Tina in Tyrone's mansion while kicking him out of his house despite inviting half of the city. Every corner of the first floor of the house was filled with women in skimpy red dresses and glittery heels.

Every corner except the room I was brooding in. My sparkly slip dress made me look scrumptious. One look at me and one would think I was open-legged to get a dick. And I had no reason to hide myself except I was. Somehow the ache in my chest made me want to kill Oksana and Cyrus.

I had no recollection of being this devastated by anyone's woman. What has changed now?

"I just need a bottle," I insisted, climbing to my feet. Ignoring Rosie's inquisitive gaze, I strolled out of the room in search of a drink.