Page 36 of Fated Shot

I take off the sweatshirt, immediately feeling chilled without it, as I fold it carefully and set it on my bed. I throw my shirt, bra, jeans and still-soaked panties in my hamper. As if dressing comfortably will have any impact on the uncomfortable situation I’m willingly walking into, I settle for black leggings, a sports bra and my green oversized pullover.

There’s still enough time for me to wash my face, brush my teeth, and sink down onto my bed, counting down the minutes like I’m waiting for a jail sentence.

You’re strong, Mia. Be strong.

***

As soon as I walk into Java, Seb spots me, motioning for me to join him at the tiny table in the back. I slowly make my way over, noticing his grin as he looks me up and down. It’s weird how so much can change in such a short amount of time. He’s always looked at me like that, it’s nothing out of the ordinary, but now under his gaze, I want nothing more than to cover myself and walk the other way.

“I got you a coffee. An iced vanilla latte, your favorite,” he says with a flashy smirk. He’s looking like he’s waiting to be praised.

“Oh, thanks,” I mutter as I take the seat across from him. I’m always cautious around him, pushing down my own feelings to stay neutral. It’s like my awareness spikes—I’m on edge, careful that my words don’t provoke an extreme reaction I just can’t handle right now. But it irks me as I struggle to maintain my composure. Three years together, and I’ve never once ordered an iced latte.

He’s smiling happily at me as I try to push down my irritation and focus on the task at hand.

“You look good, baby.”

Ugh.The word draws a chill down my spine. My nerves make way for the aggravation growing in my stomach, and I’m almost grateful for the new emotion.

“Please don’t call me that,” I ask as politely as I can muster.

All he does in response is give an obnoxious laugh, leaning forward to rest his hand on mine. I carefully pull back and continue. “Seb, I don’t have a lot of time. You said you wanted to apologize?” My tone is a lot less pleasant than he’s used to, but I’m no longer someone he’s used to, and my patience is wavering.

There’s surprise in his eyes, but he forces it away as he plasters on a disingenuous smile.

“I just wanted to see you before I go back to New York. It was really nice being at the game with you, just like old times.”

The old times I remember would be him trying to get tickets to every home game, bringing friends, getting drunk, and living for every moment the cameras would pan to him. Even with my mom sitting between us last night, it just wasn’t enough space from him and his ego. All he went on about was how excited he was for season tickets, hanging out with Mom and Dad, and all the events we’d go to together once he moves.

The world revolves around him, and keeping up appearances seems to be his primary goal in life. It’s like he thinks nothing has changed. I just grinned and bore it, but I’m done.

“I can’t do the friends thing anymore, Seb. I want a clean break.”

It comes out a little shaky as I brace for his inevitable response, my body tensing in anticipation. I can’t believe I ever thought it was normal to feel this way.

He brushes off my words with another smirk, taking a slow sip of his coffee. His eyes are warning me, but his lack of retort gives me the added confidence I need. Less hesitation this time, I add, “I’m here as a courtesy to you because we haven’t sat down and talked about what happened. But I’m not interested in talking about anything else.”

His smile wavers as he narrows his eyes at me. In a second, though, he looks around the coffee shop and regains his fake, pleasant demeanor. Thank gosh for public spaces.

“Fine, I’msorry.” The way he draws out the word lands like sour milk.

“That’s it?” I say, taking a frustrated breath before repositioning myself in my seat.

“Look, we were together for a long time and I got scared, okay?” There’s an emptiness to his words. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“I don’t want to hear anything but the truth,” I add, surprising myself. I don’t know where this newfound confidence is coming from, but I’m freaking grateful it’s appearing. I want answers for myself. I gave him everything, stressed every day about being the girl he wanted me to be—the girl he said he deserved. He always made me feel so small; it was all I ever knew. It didn’t hit me until I left, got out of that headspace, and realized just how messed up everything had been.

I guess I did a lot more growing over the summer than I’d thought. I didn’t want to hear apologies before, and I wasn’t ready to have this conversation. I don’t even know if I’m ready now, but I need to close this chapter for good, and this is the first step.

“I got it all out of my system, and I’m ready to settle,” he says coldly.

“Settle,” I repeat in mumbling disbelief. There’s silence as I try to process his words. I stare blankly at him, so he continues.

“I just needed to fuck around a bit, ya know? Test the waters, get a little crazy.” He laughs like he’s reliving memories of his glory days. When I don’t break my glare, he gets the hint.

“And I’m ready now,” he says, changing to a more serious tone. Everything with him is so disingenuous. His mood can shift mid-sentence, every action is exaggerated and performative, and he very rarely lets his mask slip in public. I’m just so tired of it. I stay blinking at him through the rage that is now threatening to break out.

“Ready forwhat?”

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