Page 32 of Dash

“I don’t care.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

TABATHA

I’m in total bitch mode and everyone knows it. Why am I so bitchy, you ask? Dash! I haven’t seen or spoken to him in two days. Since the day that he wrecked at the track—when he promised to explain everything. He was going to calm my concerns and prove he wasn’t a total lying douchebag.

Once the doctors informed us that he was refusing treatment and checking himself out of the hospital, he had requested to see my father. I was so relieved that he was awake, talking, and rather ready to leave, as the nurse put it, that I didn’t realize he didn’t ask to see me. After my father came out and told us that he seemed just fine and more determined than before to get on the track, Valerie made her way back to see him. When she came out, she announced very loud and proud that he had agreed to go stay with her parents.

What. The. Fuck. At that moment, my mood went from relieved to fucking pissy. I sat there like a fucking idiot for the next hour with Jackie and Blake giving me looks of pity. They knew that he wasn’t gonna ask to see me, and I hoped to prove them wrong. They were right! But what did I expect? She had called him, and he had lied to me about it. You don’t lie to someone unless you have something to hide. He obviously was still seeing her, and I was the side chick. I do believe that he wasn’t sleeping with me to further his career with my father because being with me would just get him fired. But Valerie? I’m still confused to what that connection is.

After I waited an hour and heard nothing from Dash, we left. I stood and walked out without saying good-bye to anyone. Blake and Jackie followed me out. They ended up coming over to my house and hanging out, but they didn’t stay long. They could tell my mood was getting worse by the second. The bastard didn’t even text me to say sorry or even explain why he chose to go to their house. Hell, for all I know, Valerie went there and sucked his dick. Who knows what he sees in her. It’s obviously not her personality, so the bitch has to have some mad bed skills.

I wanted to ask Blake about Dash and Valerie’s history. I wanted to know what their current relationship was, but what good would that do? He wasn’t offering any information, so I decided against it. Why throw salt into the wound?

Now I sit in my first class of the day. No makeup, hair up in a messy bun. I’m wearing yoga pants and a tank top. I didn’t dress to impress anyone this morning. If my mother were to see me, she would tell me to cover up the dark circles under my eyes from the lack of sleep I’ve had over the last two days. To put on a dress and some six-inch heels. But thankfully, I no longer live at home, so I can look as distasteful as I want.

My face must say ‘stay the fuck away from me’ ‘cause no one has spoken a word to me. But I can still hear them talking about who they did or where they went on their Spring Break. You would think that these guys have never been laid before. I mean, come on—mix alcohol, beach, and bikinis, and you’re gonna get lucky no matter how much of a fucking douche you are.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes to try to calm my nerves. I don’t have a class on Mondays. Yesterday, I did nothing but sat around my house listening to every song that resembled hating men. It helped a little. It mainly just fueled my fire to want to punch him even more.

I want so badly to lean over, grab my phone out of my purse, call the fucker up, and give him a piece of my mind. But what good would it do? Just make me look like a crazy bitch who felt more for him than he did me. I’ve been the fool before. Rodger made me that little puppy that followed him around and made him feel superior. I won’t give Dash that satisfaction.

“Miss Knight. See me after class.”

I open my eyes and look down as my professor tosses my test onto my desk. An F is scrawled across the top, and I slap my hand over it. Just fucking great!

I do nothing during class but stare at the wall ahead of me and contemplate what to do to put this anger to good use. By the time my professor dismisses class, I still have nothing.

I stomp my way down to his desk. “An F? How did I get an F?” I demand.

He leans back in his chair calmly and looks up at me. “Miss Knight, what you do outside of my class is none of my business. But I suggest that next time you come with your head on your shoulders and your mind working.”

“Excuse me?”

He sighs and picks up my test. “You know this material. We both know you do, but that day you were not here.”

Of course, I wasn’t. I had a hangover from hell, and I was trying to recall who I had woken up next to. Naked. I climbed a tree to jump the fence. Who in the hell cared what I thought about this stupid class? I sigh. “I was having a rough day.”

“Miss Knight, I don’t consider a hangover being a rough day,” he chastises. He takes a second to look me up and down, and he frowns. “Maybe you should concentrate a little more on school and less on partying.”

Before I can respond, he hands me back my test. “I was once in college and understand how it feels to be young. I will give you one more chance. You will retake the test this Saturday.” He returns to the papers before him, effectively dismissing me.

I shove the test into my backpack and then storm out of the classroom. I look down at my watch and realize that I have thirty minutes until my next class. Thirty minutes? I used to use that time to hang out with Rodger; now I want to spend it in the gym pounding on a punching bag to release my anger.

Looking around the big campus, I decide to head to the coffee shop. Don’t ask me why—I hate coffee—but I need a pick-me-up. The moment that I walk in, I regret it. Rodger stands over by the wall talking to a pretty redhead who I know as Whitney. She’s his best friend. I was never jealous of her ‘cause, to be honest, he’s not her type. She radiates class, the kind you can’t buy. She’s beautiful, but not the kind that has been added on. She stands tall and yet is down to earth. She’s the only woman who I know could run for president and win by just the sound of her voice. When she speaks, people listen. She speaks clearly and is intelligent beyond this world, yet she has a way of making complicated sound so simple. She makes Rodger look stupid. But I never felt that way around her; she made me feel smart at times. She’s not the typical girl who goes shopping and tanning on a Saturday. She spends her weekends in the library with her nose stuck in a book. She doesn’t read romance. She prefers to read about the world we live in and the culture she wants her future children to grow up in.

I honestly only think Rodger is friends with her to learn from her. All he ever does is argue with her. She always wins, and it drives him nuts. She is the only woman in the world who would make him second-guess himself.

“Tabatha,” she exclaims when she spots me.

Shit! “Hey, Whitney.” I greet her with a fake smile as I walk over to them. I can’t ignore her, but I can ignore Rodger.

“How are you doing?” she asks as she pulls me into a hug. Her red hair smells of citrus.

“Great,” I lie.

She pulls away, and her baby blue eyes look into mine. “I was just asking Rodger about you. He said you had been sick.” She frowns as she looks me over. “You should go home and get some rest. You do look awful.”

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