Page 37 of Shut Up and Bite Me

On my way to drop it off.

Within minutes, I’m on my way to the bank to withdraw all of the money I need to get Steven the hell out of my life. We have two months left on our six-month lease, and all I have to do is pay my half of the rent for this month and the next two.

I’m just going to throw the few possessions I still have at the apartment into a duffle bag, and then I’m out of there. I’m not going to even bother taking the furniture with me. He can sell it for all I care.

I arrive within ten minutes, throwing my car in park and rushing up the stairs of the building to unit 4E. After a minute of fighting with the key in the door, I push it open and find Steven watching me from the living room couch. He could have at least gotten off of his ass to let me in when he heard the lock struggling. But I’m not surprised.

“Wow, you’re still alive,” he mumbles, his attention shifting back to the TV.

Wasting neither of our time, I get straight to the point. “I’m moving out. I’m just here to drop off rent and grab my stuff.”

His eyes widen, and he sits up taller, a dumb smile on his lips that is begging to be punched off his face. “You are?”

“Great job containing your excitement,” I grumble as I walk across the floor toward my bedroom, making a pit stop by the couch as I count the two thousand dollars out and drop it into Steven’s lap. “There you go.”

“T-Thanks,” he murmurs as I walk away.

As I throw my bedroom door open, a wave of anger washes over me. Long gone is the patience that I once had for him. “What the fuck, Steven!”

“Shit, I forgot to clean up in there.” He rubs the back of his head, no empathy or regret in any of his features.

Rather, he’s annoyed that I caught it at all.

“Why would you need to clean it? You know the only rule I had was that no one could come into my room. Let alone my goddamn bed,” I groan as I grab my duffle bag from the closet and quickly throw the only things I care about into it before storming out of the room. “The rest is yours. Congrats. Go fuck yourself, Steven.”

He rises to his feet and hobbles over, probably drunk out of his mind from the odor wafting my way. Even though it’s barely six o’clock. “Fuck you, Greyson! Always thinking you’re better than everyone else.”

“I’ve never said that,” I correct him.

“There’s no way your girlfriend isn’t an uptight bitch for having to deal with you?—”

Rearing my arm back, I follow through with my punch, burying my fist into his face. “Don’t.” I hit him again. “Ever.” And again. “Say a word about her.” One final hit is all I need to drop him to the ground.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He holds up his hands, and I can’t help but take a mental image of his helpless gaze and whimper. “Shit, man.”

Scoffing, I grab my bag and throw it over my shoulder before storming out of the apartment, slamming the door behind me as adrenaline pumps through my veins.

Holy shit.I should have done that a long time ago.

By the time I slide into my car, I still have yet to hear back from Vivian. I’m not ready to go back to her place yet. I haven’tdone anything in days except to lounge around. The fresh air is nice.

Besides, Lulu deserves some new toys and treats. I’m going to grab a few things for her and maybe some beautiful flowers for Vivian. I want to put a smile on my girls’ faces.

My trip to the pet store was quick but definitely not cheap. It’s not my fault though; I couldn’t decide what to get her, so I got everything that caught my eye. Now, I want to stop and get Vivian some flowers.

I pull over next to Ambrose Floral and step out of my car, walking on the cobblestone sidewalk to the entrance. The place is bursting with flowers and plants, the aroma almost too refreshing, making me sneeze when I take a quick breath.

“Hi, can I help you with anything?” a sweet older woman asks me. “Bless you, by the way.”

I grin. “Thank you. And I’m looking to get a couple dozen red roses. They’re romantic flowers, right?”

She eyes me sweetly, a twinkle sparkling in her gaze. “Yes, very romantic. They are a favorite for those looking to impress someone.”

Digging my wallet out of my back pocket, I grab my wallet and meet her at the counter. “Perfect. I’ll take two dozen.”

“You got it.” She rings it up and leaves me to pay while she fetches the flowers and wraps them up in a bouquet.

Tapping my card on the reader, I pay and leave a generous tip. “Thank you so much.”

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