Page 30 of That's Too Pucking Bad

I don’t even have words. I just grab my stuff and leave. I can’t deal with this right now. I don’t even want to be near him.

“Asshole,” I mutter under my breath as I fight my tears.

Colin would never treat me like this.

I should not let anyone treat me like this.

I’m still fuming when I get back to my room that evening. My hands are shaking, my head is spinning with what just happened. Who the hell does that?

I pace for a while, too angry to even sit down, too pissed to think straight. Every time I replay it in my head, I want to throw something. Hard. Maybe at his head. What kind of guy just smashes a girl’s phone because he feels like it? A psycho, that’s who.

Eventually, I force myself to sit on my bed and just breathe. I need to let it go. I’ll just get another phone. Somehow. Even though I don’t have the money right now.

But when I look up, I see something on my bed.

A box.

No fucking way.

It’s sitting right in the middle of my comforter, neatly placed like it’s been waiting for me. Next to it? AirPods. And I’m already pissed because I know exactly who left it here.

I grab the box, flipping it over, and that’s when I see the scribbled words. Taylor Swift lyrics. I read it out loud to myself, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “‘I swear I don’t love the drama, it loves me.’”

He listened to Taylor Swift?

My jaw clenches. I rip open the box, knowing exactly what’s inside.

The phone. Only now, I notice something else.

It’s red. Just like the mask he wore that night.

I hate how my heart skips a beat at that thought. I hate that it reminds me of that night in the woods when I didn’t know who he was, when everything was dark and exciting and... yeah,no.

I shake off the memory and stare at the phone. I should throw it away. I should. But I can’t.

With a deep breath, I turn it on, my fingers hovering over the screen. As soon as it powers up, I see a contact already programmed into it.

Your favorite dick.

My mouth drops open. He’s un-fucking-believable. How does he even think this is okay? How does he think this is some cute game?

I toss the phone on my bed, grab my pillow, and scream into it.

What the hell am I supposed to do with this?

Because now that he’s left me no choice, I might actuallyhaveto use the damn phone.

The next morning, I’m back at the library because apparently, I have a death wish. I don’t even know why I’m here. It’s like some part of me is waiting for him to show up again, just so I can tell him off properly.

I sit in my usual spot, trying to concentrate on the notes in front of me, but my mind is still reeling from last night. From the smashed phone. From the new one he left. From the fucking AirPods.

God, he’s such a dick.

I hear the chair scrape against the floor before I see him.

Of course.

“Morning, baby,” Zane says, settling across from me like he owns the place. Again.

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