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~ 7 ~
Rule #7: If they can't handle you at your bitchiest, they don't deserve you at your nakedest.
"I don't want a playboy, Just wanna play with my
Boytoy, He's so lucky, he's my Boytoy,"-Halle Abadi 'Boy Toy'
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🖤⃝🤍
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I stopped dead. Mid-jeans-pull.
My head whipped around so fast I'm surprised it didn't just keep spinning.
"Excuse me?" I stared at him, completely thrown.
Did he actually just—
"Well, is it?" He said it so casually, like it was a normal question. Like he was asking about my jacket.
"Hey, Eris, is it raining? Oh, and by the way, are you planning to screw your classmate?"
I blinked.
Opened my mouth.
Closed it again.
What the actual hell?
"It's school," I snapped, grabbing my phone. My hands were shaking, and I hated it. Hated that he could get to me like this. "It's a fucking group project, Dante. Jesus."
I could feel my temper rising, a hot, ugly thing clawing its way up my throat. But I wasn't about to give him more ammo. Wasn't about to let him see how much his words stung.
Does he take me for a whore?
I thought that was it. Thought he'd let it go.
I should have known better.
"Well, that doesn't take him off the 'to fuck' list," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm and very evident jealousy.
I stared at him for a second longer, trying to decide if he was serious. And when I realized he was, I just... deflated. All the fight drained out of me. I just shook my head, too exhausted to deal with his insecurities.
"For fuck's sake, Dante," I said, my voice coming out softer than I intended. Weaker. I hated it. "I said it's school."
I slipped into my jeans, fumbling with the zipper. My fingers felt clumsy, uncooperative. Like they belonged to someone else. "And for the record, I don't like how you're talking to me right now."
Understatement of the fucking century.
Dante stayed silent, his gaze burning into me as I finished dressing. I could feel the weight of his stare, heavy and suffocating.
I zipped up my bag with more force than necessary, still fuming. The anger was easier to deal with than... whatever else was churning in my gut.
"Stick to being my fuck buddy and stop trying to invade my life," I spat. "I don't need your emotional bullshit right now."
That shut him up.
At least for a second.
His eyes darkened, storm clouds gathering. But he stayed quiet, jaw clenched so tight I could almost hear his teeth grinding.
And... ugh, fine, it made me feel kinda bad. A tiny twinge of guilt in my chest, unwelcome and annoying as hell. But not bad enough to take it back.
I'm not here to coddle his ego. I'm not here to be his emotional punching bag. I'm not here to be... anything.
His jaw worked, like he was chewing on words he couldn't quite spit out. For a moment, I thought he was going to lash out. To say something we'd both regret.
Part of me almost wanted him to. Wanted a real fight, something I could sink my teeth into. Something to justify the storm of emotions raging inside me.
But instead, he sighed. All the fight seemed to drain out of him, leaving him looking... tired. Defeated. It was a look I'd never seen on Dante before, and it shook me more than I wanted to admit.
He sat back against the pillows, glancing at the tray of food he'd brought. "Fine," he said, voice flat. "But you should eat before you go."
I sighed, my frustration cooling a little and a small smile tugging at my lips.
Damn him and his... consideration. His stupid, infuriating kindness that made it so hard to just walk away.
I flopped back down onto the bed, grabbing a piece of toast. My mind was already racing ahead, a whirlwind of panic and to-do lists. Presentation. Database project. Laundry that had been sitting in my hamper for... let's not think about how long. Maybe squeeze in a nap somewhere between existential crises.
And trying not to think about Dante. About the hurt in his eyes.
Dante pulled on his shirt and sat down next to me. The bed dipped under his weight, and I was hyperaware of every inch of space between us. Of how easy it would be to lean into him, to let myself fall...
After an eternity of awkward silence that felt like it was physically pressing against my eardrums, he spoke. "I can drop you off."
I couldn't help but smile. A small, sarcastic thing that felt more like a grimace. "Thanks, but no thanks. You can't."
His brow furrowed, confusion and something that looked dangerously like hope flashing across his face. I hurried to crush it before it could take root.
"Raven's already suspicious," I explained, the words coming out in a rush. "If she sees you anywhere near me, she's gonna start digging, and trust me, we don't want her sniffing around. I'm not dealing with that shitstorm today."
Dante dragged a hand down his face, frustration etched into every line of his body. "I thought you said you were cool with it."
I rolled my eyes, chomping on my toast with more vigor than necessary.
"I said I'm cool with us fucking," I corrected, grabbing my keys and standing up. The metal was cool against my palm, grounding. "Not cool with Raven finding out."
I could see Dante gearing up for another round, another attempt to drag me into one of his self-pitying, relationship-seeking monologues. And suddenly, I couldn't bear it. Couldn't stand to be in this room for one more second.
I grabbed my jacket, shoving my arms through the sleeves with enough force that the seams protested. Started pulling on my shoes, not bothering to untie the laces first.
"Eris-" Dante started, his voice soft.
Pleading.
"Don't," I cut him off. "Just... don't, okay?"
Because that was the thing with Dante. He didn't know how to just leave it be. He always wanted more, always pushed for more. And I wasn't about to give it to him.
Not now. Not ever.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
Hey there! Enjoying the story so far? Let me know with a quick reaction:1. ❤️
2. 🖤Both options mean you're into it, but the second one hints at a slightly more wicked side of you.
P.S. If you found yourself yelling "Girl, just TALK to him!" at your screen, congratulations! You're probably more emotionally mature than dear Eris. Maybe send her some of that wisdom via telepathy?
P.P.S. Don't forget to vote! It inflates my ego just enough to keep the chapters coming. Plus, it's way easier than actually communicating with your fuck buddy about your feelings, am I right?
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