Don't Get Angry

40- Otis: Cheaters Cheaters

I pulled my arm away from Taylor. "I'm not doing this."

She looked at me sitting on the couch. "Come on, Otis. Deep down you knew we aren't really dating."

"What? Are you serious?"

She looked up at me with squinted eyes. "You came over to make out with me after you had a fight with Dalta. Anytime you fight with her, you come to me. And you expect me to believe that whatever this little thing we had was a relationship?"

"Was?"

"Yeah, was..."

I nodded slowly. "So, we're done."

She shrugged. "Can't finish something we never had, can we?"

I shook my head. "This was a mistake-"

"You think?" She sipped her beer. "You only used me because you have your own little issues that you don't wanna face."

"Issues? You call me out on having issues? You sleep around and don't care about yourself-"

"Maybe I don't care about myself, but at least I'm not all I care about. You don't care about anyone but yourself. And you treated me like crap. You think you're such a gentleman, but you?" She shook her head and glared up at me. "You played me. You made me think that we had something... For the first time, I actually thought I'd found someone who cared."

I felt terrible. Not for a second. For a while. She actually looked hurt.

"For a girl who sleeps around," her sad tone turned harsh, "you're the worst guy I've ever dated." She slowly turned away and got comfortable on the couch.

I stared at her.

She took out her phone and started scrolling through Instagram.

I frowned. "Get a ride with your brother... I'm not taking you home."

"Whatever."

I scoffed and lifted my brows then I shook my head and turned away. I walked out of the living room putting my mask back on. For some reason, I felt heart broken. I liked her. Even though I'd used her, which was an unconscious act by the way, I wanted her to like me. I wanted there to be an actual reason for me being with her. It couldn't just be loneliness or stupidity.

The house was beginning to fill up. I pushed my way through the crowd and headed for kitchen unaware that I'd just walked past Dalta as she was walking out. I grabbed a beer off the counter and opened it. I'd gotten drunk before. Four years prior, at fourteen, I'd slept over at Peter's with some of his friends. One of them dared me to take a sip of a half drunk bottle that was left in the fridge. I did. I got drunk...almost instantly. Fell asleep pretty quickly. Peter thought I'd passed out and panicked. My mother was called. She vowed never to let me hang out with Peter again. If she'd kept that vow, I wouldn't be in the mess I was in.

I stared at the bottle. "Issues?" I said my thoughts outloud. "I have issues?" I put the bottle to my lips. Like the fourteen year old kid who'd gotten drunk off just the smell of the beer, it didn't talk long before I fully lost my mind. I mean, my height hadn't grown much since then. I couldn't even handle a sip of alcohol. I walked out of the kitchen and noticed Chad standing with Sutton. I stumbled over to him. "Hey!" I yelled. "Let's talk!"

He scoffed. "What?"

"You must think I'm stupid enough to let you twist Dalta's mind with your...idiocy and...and charm or whatever!" I pointed at him nearly poking his nose. "Where is she-"

He pushed my hand out of his face. "Dalta does whatever she wants. I'm not forcing her do anything-"

"Yes, you are! You drove her here. You're," I waved my hand in his face," manipulating her into joining your...cult or whatever it is that you run here."