The Player in Him

Chapter 32: Off to Italy Bitch!

(Edited 7/27/18)
     I'm sitting on the couch.

     Eating a big ass bag of hot Cheetos.

Yeah, I'm healthy.

     Everyone is over the house now, sans Tamara and Cole, and it looks like complete chaos. There are clothes everywhere.

     Since Liam didn't tell the guys that he stays with me, he packed his bag last night and threw it in his truck.

Oh by the way, he's not here. He's been checked out too.

And the only reason I can think of, is his sister. She's still sleeping, and I don't think the doctors are being too considerate, considering there's a 17 year old paying for her medical bills illegally...

Of course, they don't know that Liam fights, which is another reason why he's been checked out ever since Tuesday. He's had that semi-finals shit or whatever.

And he made it very clear that if I showed up to another one of his fights, he would stop mid-fight and throw me out of the place.

Talk about public humiliation.

You passed out one time...

He's been in the gym in the wee hours of the morning, then somehow he manages to get to school on time and then at night he's off to the hospital.

I wish this whole thing could work as a cliché, you know, the ones where the family member is in the hospital and when the guy finally opens up to the girl, she gets the honor of meeting said family member.

But not all stories are one hundred percent cliché I'll tell you that, and mine isn't exactly that, sadly. I could plan out my entire life for you, had it been a cliché.

For starters, I'd already be bailed out by my mommy and I'd be back in school, playing basketball, because we magically made up somehow.

Liam and I would end up being together because the girl always changes the guy right? Oh, the all-of-a-sudden Mr. I'm Ready For a Committed Relationship falls for the Ms. Virgin From a Broken Home type female.

Everyone's problems are solved, Kait magically finds a man that'll stay in her life and not turn out to be a complete asshole, whore, or abuser. I get into UCLA and make it to the WNBA.

Along with my sexy NFL Quarterback of a husband later on down the road. Michael and my mom break it off on happy terms because hey, their children are madly in love with one another and—

Nope!

Sorry to rain on the parade, but it's clearly not happening like that. At least not with me. I've been dealt a very dirty hand of cards...everyone has some kind of battle they're fighting.

It's sick.

     I just wish that somebody would give me a brea—

"Jasmine, babe, hand me my suitcase." Mason calls for me from the recliner, about five feet away from me.

I grunt, getting another chip and chewing it angrily. "I'm not a fucking maid, babe." I roll my eyes then I spot his suitcase, "Really, Mason?"

The suitcase is right in front of him. He's just sitting, reaching out and pretending not to be able to get it. Talk about lazy. Goddamnit, what do I have to do to get just one day without somebody up my ass.

     I walk over to where his suitcase is, I pick it up, and I walk towards the front door. "Hey wait, what are you—fucking hell."

     I threw it outside.