Page 123 of That's Too Pucking Bad

Maya glances around the room, then smirks. “Oh, I see. You two are finally going to have the big talk, huh?”

I don’t answer her. I don’t need to. I spot him immediately— standing across the room, leaning against the wall, looking out of place. His mask is red, the same from the first night we met, and even from here, I can see the tension in his shoulders. He hasn’t noticed me yet, and I’m grateful for the moment of silence before I storm over to him.

I don’t waste any time. I march straight toward him, my heels clicking against the floor. When I reach him, I don’t say hello, don’t ask how he’s been. I just stare him down.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I snap.

His eyes widen behind the mask, and for a second, I see a flicker of surprise. But it’s gone just as fast as it came. “Remy…” He says my name like a warning, like he knows this isn’t going to end well.

“No. No more of this shit.” I take a step closer to him, eyes narrowed. “Tell me what you said in the text.”

His mouth tightens, and I can see the conflict in his eyes. “I—”

“Tell me to my fucking face!” I yell, but the music’s too loud for anyone to hear. He looks around, like he’s trying to figure out if he can escape this conversation.

I grab his arm, my grip tight, and pull him with me. He doesn’t resist, and we push our way through the crowd until we reach a closed room. He slams the door shut behind us and locks it.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I seethe, shaking with fury. “You think you can just end things with me over a goddamn text? You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to just treat me like that!”

I’m so fucking angry now that my voice shakes, but I don’t care. I want him to understand. I want him to feel how much this is hurting me.

Zane doesn’t say anything for a while. He just stands there, leaning against the wall, his posture slumped. He looks different. There’s something in his eyes that I can’t quite place. But it’s not anger. It’s something else.

Finally, after what feels like forever, he says, “Are you done?”

“No, I’m not fucking done,” I snap, my voice cracking. “Fuck you for making me fall for you. For getting me all twisted up in these feelings and then just leaving me like I’m nothing.”

His shoulders sag, like my words have taken something out of him. “Remy…”

“Fuck you,” I repeat, my lips trembling now. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to just walk away and act like I’m dirt.”

I see him swallow hard, like he’s trying to control himself. I’m still furious, but a part of me wants to reach out to him, wants to comfort him. But no. I can’t. That would be fucking stupid.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

His voice is broken, and I hate it. It makes my heart ache in a way I don’t understand. I don’t want to feel sorry for him. I don’t want to care.

“Don’t you dare,” I whisper, my voice full of emotion. “Don’t you dare tell me you’re fucking sorry, Zane. After everything.”

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he says, his voice raw. “Believe me, Remy. It was all for your own good.”

I shake my head, but there’s this sinking feeling in my chest. The tears are welling up, but I won’t let them fall.

“When I walk out of that door, I’m never coming back,” I warn him, my voice low.

Zane stands up straight, stepping closer to me. “Please, don’t,” he says. “Please, I need you. I fucked up.”

I can see the pain in his eyes, the desperation. He’s not the asshole I thought he was. He’s... he’s hurt. But that doesn’t change anything.

Then, in a move that catches me off guard, he says, “Take off my pants.”

My breath catches in my throat. “What?” I gasp. “Are you fucking serious?”

He’s trembling, like he’s holding himself together by a thread. I look at him, really look at him, and that’s when I see it— the way he shifts his weight onto one leg. It’s subtle, but it’s enough for me to notice.

“Wait… you’re injured,” I whisper, my anger fading for a moment.

Zane doesn’t say anything. He just nods.

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