Stop Fighting It

14. Daniel Knows

MITCH'S POV:

"Wow, I can't believe I feel sorry for a crazy good-looking, amazingly talented and successful singer." Daniel commented.

"And why exactly do you feel sorry for me?" I said. How dare he!

"I don't feel sorry for you. I feel sorry for Scott."

"Scott?!"

"Yeah, the poor schmuck loves you and you treat him like shit."

"I guess you don't want to fuck me again."

"No, not really. I try not to fuck sadistic or broken people if I can help it."

"Right. Okay then. I'm leaving but before I do. Fuck you. You haven't got a clue about Scott."

"I don't, do I? Is he not devastatingly handsome, talented, successful, and also funny, kind, generous, sweet and always there for you?"

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up!" This time I did push myself off the bed and started gathering clothes off the floor.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. You want me to call you an Uber or want me to drop you off?"

I didn't answer. I was too furious. I picked up enough of my clothes and I could feel the weight of a cell phone in my jeans so I could figure out what to do in the bathroom. Fuck, my battery was dead. I looked in the mirror and I looked properly fucked. So he can fuck my body and then thinks he can fuck my mind?! Fuck him. I finished getting dressed and tore open the door and headed to the hallway. I spotted the front door and walked out.

It must be noon on the dot because the sun was directly overhead and blazing. I walked determinedly down the winding drive and unto a completely deserted street. One story, adobe houses with wrought iron gates and little palm trees and fruit trees sprawling over the gates and onto the sidewalk lined the streets. Just miles after fucking miles of them.

I sighed heavily, bent my head and started to walk west hoping I might find a gas station and maybe borrow someone's phone. Fuck.