𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙺𝙸𝙽 𝚂𝙷𝙾𝚆

12 - MARCUS OR PAXTON

"Fuck. Fuck!" I cursed under my breath, staring at the phone screen. My thumb hovered over the call button, hesitating for a moment longer before pressing it.

Calling Marcus was a mistake. A decision I knew I would regret, but my pride wouldn’t let me back out now.The line clicked, and his voice came through, smooth and waiting.

“So?” Marcus answered immediately, like he had been waiting for me all along. “You’re going with me, aren’t you?”

My heart pounded. I gritted my teeth.

“No.”

There was a pause, then a sigh from his side. I could hear the smugness even through the phone. He’d expected this. Hell, he’d already prepared himself for me to cave, to choose him over Paxton. Why? Because he thought he had power over me. Thought I was that easy to control.

“You know what, Marcus? I hate you,” I snapped, the words tasting bitter in my mouth. “You’re a narcissistic, controlling bastard.”

He chuckled softly. "Yeah? Get to the point."

My grip on the phone tightened. Was I really going to do this? I paused, breathing in.

"The point is," I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. "We are over."

The words hung in the air, but I wasn't finished. No. He needed to hear this.

“You think you can insult me, humiliate me, and I’ll still be chasing after you like some desperate, pathetic slut? You think I’d keep coming back to you, dying for another chance to be degraded?” My voice was shaking with fury, rising uncontrollably.

“Guess what? I’m not that desperate for you. And by the way—” I was just about to drop the bomb, something vicious about his fragile ego—Click.He hung up. Just like that.

“Coward!” I yelled at the phone, tossing it onto the bed. “You’re gonna rot in hell, Marcus. Screw you!”

My blood was boiling, and I buried my face in the pillow, screaming out every ounce of frustration.“Fuuuuuck you!” I screamed until my throat was raw, every muscle tense with rage.The next morning, I woke up with a sore throat. My voice was raspy, barely audible. I dragged myself downstairs, still fuming from last night.

“You sound like a dying rooster,” Gabi giggled as she slipped on her shoes by the door.

“Don’t tell Mom,” I rasped, my voice scratchy.

She raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Why?”

“I’ve been smoking.”

“MUM—!” She bolted towards the kitchen, yelling like a tattletale.

“Don’t you dare!” I laughed, watching her disappear down the hall. I needed to shake off this mood, but Marcus’s voice kept echoing in my mind. That smug laugh, the way he knew how to crawl under my skin.

When Paxton arrived later that afternoon, my heart was already in knots. My house smelled like vegetables and the sound of my mom chopping in the kitchen filled the air. Paxton stood at the door, looking effortlessly handsome as usual, and I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“You ready?” His smile was perfect, casual, but there was something off about today.

I nodded. “Yeah, just a second.”