Page 7 of The Trick

“What the fuck, Blair!” he whines, out of breath. “You almost killed me!”

“Oh please. A fucking elbow to the gut isn’t harsh enough to kill you,” I retort. Although, I can definitely think of something that will. I inch towards him, knife still in hand.

“Hold on,” he murmurs, straightening his posture as he curls his gloved hands to where his hideous mask brushes against his skin. “Fuck, I could hardly breathe in that thing.” He huffs, tossing the rubber mask to the pavement before he begins taking his gloves off, pulling the leather up one by one before tossing them onto the ground.

“What do you want?” I ask.

Cocking his head to the side, an obnoxious grin works its way to his chiseled face. It’s as if he’s oblivious as to why I’mnotexcited to see him. “This is what you wanted, right?” he shrugs, seemingly dumbfounded by my question.

Knife, still in my grip, because I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him, I cross my arms in front of my torso, concealing the extended blade. “Excuse me?”

Dragging his foot forward, Ethan closes the space between us. Not in the mood for Ethan and his antics, I hinge my foot backward before slamming it against the loose gravel. I watch in amusement as the earthy debris begins to rise and scatter itself all over his all-white Converse.

Immediately he scoots back, a scoff of disgust sounds before he’s wetting the pad of his thumb with his tongue. Crouching down he begins to rub his wet finger frantically on his shoe. “Low blow, Blair Bear,” he taunts, continuing to give his barely dirty sneaker a spit shine, knowing damn well I hate when he calls me that. “You don’t disrespect a man’s shoes like that. You should know better.”

My eyes roll so hard, it feels like they’re going to get stuck like that. “They’re sneakers asshat. They’re going to get dirty,” I retort pointing out the obvious.

Rising from where he was just kneeling, an oblivious innocence washes over his face. “I was just doing what you wanted.”

“What?” I chuckle, genuinely amused at how he could thinkthisis what I wanted. He tries to advance on me, bringing his hand that was just attempting to clean his fucking shoe to my crossed arms, but I step back. “What part of this lackluster performance of yours could you possibly think I want?” I scoff.

He shakes his head. The look on his face now teetering between bruised pride and embarrassment. “Come on, baby. You know you miss me.” His words are meant to be a statement, but the infliction in his voice errs on the pleading side of things.

I lost track of how many times I asked him to wear a mask or indulge me in a little primal role-play, but he was a missionary position guy through and through. Which is fine every once in a while, but every fucking time, especially when he only lasted a few minutes? Fuck that. Life’s too damn short to settle for an arrogant rich prick who can’t fuck to my liking. Next, please.

“No Ethan, I don’t miss you. I’m not your project anymore. Accept it and move the fuck on.” I lower my head in a nod, my onyx hair falling from my shoulder. “Do yourself a favor and keep it moving before you embarrass yourself any more than you already have.”

“Blair,” his voice quivers, “please, give me one more chance. My dad just got his yacht detailed and we can do a day cruise on the Hudson. We–”

I raise my hand, cutting off his attempt to win me back before I puke all over his shoes.

Holy fuck, what was I on to ever give this douche bag the time of day? He truly doesn’t get it. His money means nothing to me. Money can buy a lot of things but judging by tonight’s piss poor attempt to get back in my good graces, it clearly can’t buy him anything that can truly satiate my sexual appetite.

“We,” I begin, gesturing between us for emphasis, “are nothing. I have that taken care of,” I lie. I didn’t mean to lie, but it kind of slipped out and I figure why not run with it and really drive the point home.

But I should have known how that would get him riled up. Not because he’s jealous of who I spread my legs for, but the idea of me moving on so quickly after I was the one to end things with him is an all-out attack on his already fragile ego. One that will bring out his true colors.

“Who are you fucking?” he demands.

I lift the hand that’s curled against the handle of my knife, bringing it back into view. Just as a friendly reminder that it’s here and I will use it.

“That’s none of your fucking business.”

He groans through a tense jaw, somehow missing the way the steel of the knife reflects the moonlight. “It’s someone from that pathetic Horror Whores site you’re always on, isn’t it?”

Ha, I wish. I bet anyone I chat with on there would know how to wear a mask for longer than five minutes before tapping out.

His hands attach themselves to his hips as he begins to rock back and forth on his heels. “I bet the guys you talk to on there wouldn’t do what I just did, Blair.”

“You’re right. None of the guys—or girls, for that matter— would do what you just did.” I leave it there for a second to let him think that I’m building him up.

He nods, looking surprised yet satisfied with my response, as I knew he would. I take a few steps closer to him so that my free hand is grazing his bent arm before I lower my lips to his ear. It doesn’t matter that there’s no one here but the two of us, I want him to marinate on every last syllable I’m about to mutter into his ear, nice and close. “However, anyone from that site would not only wear the mask, but they would also own it. See what you did here tonight, it was weak at best. You are a boring, entitled, rich asshole, who possesses absolutely nothing I desire. Neither your cock, or your money, or your pretty boy smile can do anything to truly please me.” I watch as the vein in his neck begins to pulse.

“Take it back,” he finally mutters, his voice shaking from the truth I just spilled into his ear.

“No,” I breathe, my lips softly grazing his earlobe.

He stomps his foot, like a child having a tantrum which moots whatever point he might have had. “I will ruin you,” he says through gritted teeth, and in an unexpected move, he wraps his hand around my wrist.

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