Page 5 of Pinky Promises

Chapter 3

Brynn

Slam!

I shut the front door with such a force the frames on the wall beside it rattle. I wince at the noise and pray that no one complains about the commotion. That’s one good thing about the building we live in—most people just keep to themselves.

What a dick. Who takes someone out to dinner just to break up with them—Spencer Abbott, that’s who. Hell, we didn’t even get to order. Why even bother with going to the restaurant? Why not just break up with me before we left the apartment or, better yet, before he even arrived? That way, I could’ve just saved myself the hassle of getting all dolled up for nothing. Not that I mind dressing up, but now all the time I spent getting ready seems somewhat counterproductive.

I hope he goes home with that redhead from the bar, gets some STD, and his dick falls off.

“Ughhhh,” I scream as I clench my fists and throw my purse on the couch.

I walk down the hall, not even bothering to see if Callum is around. I need to calm down before coming in contact with anyone. If we were in a cartoon, steam would be coming out of my ears, and maybe some fire bringing up the rear of my path.

I slam my bedroom door shut, too. I might be acting a little overdramatic at the moment, especially since Spencer and I had only been together for four months. Still, the whole situation is just so fucking frustrating as I replay the entire evening in my mind.

At least it wasn’t a breakup after three years and a shared apartment like one of my other best friends, Lexi, who came home to find her boyfriend in the shower with his secretary. But that was the past, and she then went on to fall in love and get engaged to her boss, Ben. That, though, is a whole other story.

I kick my heels off, the loud clunk of them hitting the inside of my closet. My mother would frown on the messiness of my closet. I can hear her voice in my head:“That is no way for a lady to treat her possessions.”

I attempt to get my top off, but in my haste, I get caught in it, forgetting the clasp at the back that was such an issue getting on that I had to have Callum help me earlier. I struggle to get it back down to unhook it before ripping the entire thing off. I may just burn this outfit so that I don’t have to have it as a reminder of my time with Spencer.

His hands had touched me as we greeted hello. Hell, maybe I should have a bonfire and burn anything that reminds me of him.

I ignore the hamper and toss my shirt in the closet on top of my heels. I can finally breathe once completely stripped from those clothes, now dressed in a black sports bra and an old pair of Callum’s gym shorts that I stole back in college. I climb into bed and pull the covers over my head to shut the world out.

As soon as my head hits the pillow, the emotions flood my brain, and every ounce of anger melts away into something more. It feels like I’m drowning as I gasp for air, and not just from being under my blankets. The tears freely fall, smearing my perfectly done makeup.

Another failed relationship. I seem to be racking them up these days. The only constant in my life is Callum and my girls, the other best friends in my life—Lexi and Hadley. I met them our freshman year at Willow Creek University. Besides Callum, they were my firstrealfriends. It didn’t matter to them that I came from one of the wealthiest cities in the US. It didn’t matter to them if I wore jeans and a ratty T-shirt. They accepted me for me, and of course, with me came Cal. At first, they thought he was gay. What other man would sleep in the same bed with a woman and not make a move? But it isn’t like that with us.Why couldn’t Spencer see that about Callum?Sure, they tease us about flirting, but that’s just our personalities.

We’ve neveractuallycrossed those lines between friendship and more. Any feelings I thought I might have had when I was younger were locked up long ago, never to be thought of again. I may have let fear get in the way, but I would rather keep my heart safe and my best friend by my side.

But now, Lexi and Hadley are both getting their versions of happily ever afters while I am starting to lose hope that there’s someone for everyone.

My body trembles as the tears continue to fall. I’m buried so deep under the covers, hiding in my own little cocoon, that I don’t hear my door open. It’s not until I feel the dip on the other side of the bed that I realize that Cal is still home. Since he wasn’t on the couch and the television was off, I thought maybe he had gone out.

At least this time, he wasn’t on the couchwith a dateto witness my current temper tantrum. Once, I came home somewhat intoxicated from a happy hour event I went to with the girls and was halfway stripped of my clothes in the doorway when a throat cleared behind me. Completely mortified, I spun around and found Cal and his date both staring at me, mouths gaping. She didn’t stick around much longer—not one of my finer moments.

“Hey, what the fuck was all that slamming about? I just got out of the shower, and you scared the shit out of me. What’s wrong? I thought you were out on a date with Spencer tonight. What are you doing home so early? Weren’t your words ‘don’t wait up’?”

I ignore him and roll so my back is to him even though I’m still buried underneath the covers.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

When he pulls back the blanket, I know that I can no longer hide from him. He rolls me over to face him, and I’m sure I look like a wet raccoon with my combination of smeared makeup and sweat.

“Oh shit, what happened.” His voice is full of concern. He brushes the hairs clinging to my face aside. It was getting pretty hot underneath my down comforter.

I push myself up to a sitting position and bring my knees to my chest. “Spencer broke up with me tonight,” I somehow manage to say in between my sniffles.

“I’m going to kill that motherfucker,” he growls, clenching his jaw. Cal presses his lips in a firm line before speaking again. “I knew I didn’t like him from the beginning.”

I shake my head. “No, he’s not worth it. I already lost my boyfriend; I can’t lose my best friend, too. Plus, orange, as in orange jumpsuits in prison, isn’t really your color.”

He throws his head back in laughter. The thick tension in the air is already dissipating. “It would be worth it to hurt whoever hurt you, B. You know that.” When my eyes meet his, I see the sincerity in them that he speaks the truth—always my hero.

I run my fingers through the longer, disheveled locks that are still damp from his shower. He closes his eyes as I gently massage his scalp for a moment, knowing that he loves that. I smirk as it reminds me of my childhood Lab when I would rub behind his ear.

---