Resentment - (18+)

C1

PART I.

The Past

(Don't worry...This won't take too long. It never takes a guy that long to fuck things up.)

MIA

A couple weeks later...

I glance at the clock above the library's door and groan for the umpteenth time.

I told Justin to meet me here at four o'clock, told him exactly where I would be and how important it was for him to be on time. Yet, unsurprisingly, he's late. And it's not even a nice "It's only five minutes" type of late.

I've even texted him about his lateness three times: When he was fifteen minutes late, I messaged "Are you still coming?" and he said he was on his way. When he was thirty minutes late, I sent "Have you somehow gotten lost in the school you've been going to for the past four years?" And just now, at forty-five minutes past the hour, when I sent him an, "I think we need to try this another day" message, he didn't even send me an apology. His response? "I don't. I'm in the hallway."

Ugh! I should've known better than this....

I pack up all my books and push my chair away from the table so I can leave. Just as I'm standing up, Mr. Popular strolls through the door looking unfazed as ever.

"Hey," he says, walking over to my table. "Why is all your stuff packed up? Where are you going?"

"I'm off to see someone who respects my time."

"Who is that?"

"It doesn't matter. You're damn near an hour late."

"So?" He shrugs, looking genuinely confused.

"So? No, not 'so.' We agreed to meet at four o'clock, Justin. You pay me twenty dollars an hour and I've just wasted one of those hours. I'm not going to waste anymore."

"I'm sorry you feel that way." He finally offers. "I mean, don't you have homework of your own? Maybe if you would've been working on that while you waited, it would have kept you distracted from looking at the time. Maybe you wouldn't be so unnecessarily angry right now."

Is he SERIOUS?! "You know what?" I take a deep breath, refusing to let him get me riled up any further. "Thank you for that terrible half-hearted apology. I guess that makes up for everything, doesn't it?"

"No," he says, reaching into his pocket, placing a twenty-dollar bill on the table. "But this does."

"No, this does not." I slide it back.

"Wait, what's the problem here?" He shakes his head. "I said I'd pay you for three hours. You just got paid for one-for not doing a goddamn thing by the way-and once again, as you can see, I'm always looking out for you. But you're mad because we're only going to have two hours to spend together?"

"Oh my fucking God!" I can't hold it in. "That's not the point, Justin!" I'm seconds away from really going off, but a varsity cheerleader steps right between us.

"Hey, Justin." She smiles, batting her long eyelashes at him. Then she looks over at me. "Mia," she says, looking unimpressed.

"I'm leaving." I step away and head for the door.

"Wait, Mia. Don't leave." Justin rushes in front of me and blocks my exit. "I promise to do better next time."

"There won't be a next time."

"Okay, well just give me today. If you honestly can't deal with me after today, then we won't have to do this anymore."

"See, that's the thing, I don't want do this at all. Especially not today."