Fighting Fate (Fighting #7)(24)

Axelle





When I first started hanging out at Clifford’s place, I didn’t know what GTA5 was. After sitting in his living room for more hours than I can count over the last couple months, I’ve learned it’s a video game where men get to pretend they’re bigger and badder than they really are. They get to role-play the things they’d never have the balls to do in real life.

It’s basically a playground for pussies.

“Dude, a hitchhiker.” John, Clifford’s roommate and all around loser friend, points to the screen. “You gonna pick him up?”

“Yep.” Clifford laughs and jimmies his joystick, or controller, whatever they’re called. “Then I’m gonna drive him up to the mountains and feed him to the coyotes.”

Doesn’t say much about society that we now have games that allow him to do just that.

I’m bored and repulsed and need a distraction.

“You guys hungry?” It’s after nine and I haven’t eaten dinner.

When I got here, Clifford dragged me back to his room with his mouth all over mine. He insisted I put my piercing to use. John came home seconds after we finished and roped Clifford into playing video games, leaving me alone and unsatisfied in his bed.

I shook off the whispers of desire I’d felt when he was telling me how beautiful I was, how talented my mouth is, and how much he enjoyed me. I know it’s not love he feels for me, but it’s something, and like a drug, I’m addicted to it. When my mouth is on him, or he’s inside me, I feel wanted. After years of feeling unwanted, I desperately cling to that feeling of being wanted when we’re together.

“I’m starving.” John clicks the remote, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth in concentration.

“Yeah, why don’t you go grab us some food?” Clifford doesn’t even look at me when he says it, his gaze firmly planted on the big flat-screen.

Better to be useful than to warm this damn chair. I get up and grab my keys. “What do you guys want?”

“Tacos.”

“Pizza.”

They say it simultaneously, and rather than try to decipher which one to grab, I decide hitting two different places means killing more time and hit two drive-thrus instead of one.

Thirty minutes later I push through the front door, balancing a pizza box and a bag of tacos in my hand.

“Food’s here,” Clifford’s voice sounds from the living room followed by two more that are distinctly female.

Girls.

It’s not uncommon for girls to show up here. After all, Clifford doesn’t live here alone, and John’s a decent-looking guy, for a stoner. Knowing that doesn’t keep jealousy from waging war in my chest.

John comes into the kitchen, where I’m pulling out all the tacos and accompanying hot sauces. Clifford is on his heels, trailed by two girls. My stomach turns when I realize it’s the two girls who were talking about him at his party. What the f*ck are they doing here? I stand back as they all huddle around the kitchen counter and fish out food for themselves.

John takes a bite of a taco and moans. “God, I love you, Elle.”

Clifford grabs pizza, and even though he doesn’t offer the girls food, he doesn’t stop them from taking slices for themselves.

He bites and nods toward me. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Did you get this from Stubby’s?” The pretty blonde takes a bite.

“No, I got it from—”

“That place is always so crowded on the weekend,” her equally beautiful blond friend says.

“Come on. Watch me kick John’s ass on this next mission.” Clifford snags another piece of pizza and heads back into the living room.

The girls do the same.

“Kick my ass, yeah, right.” John grabs a taco and goes after them.

It isn’t until they’re all back in the living room that I look down and notice all the food is gone and I’m standing there alone like some f*cking servant while they go entertain their dates.

Shame washes over me in a dizzying wave. I can’t believe after all I offer him, after everything I’ve done to make him happy, he’d treat me like some slut whose sole purpose is to keep him sexed up and fed.

If it walks like a slut and talks like a slut…

My eyes burn and I grab my keys and purse. This is stupid, and the last thing I need to top off this humiliation is to cry in front of them.

I move to leave and remember my backpack is in Clifford’s room. I have to walk through the living room to get it, but chances are those pieces of shit are too involved in their game to notice me anyway.

I stomp through the living room, and other than a quick shout that I’m blocking the screen, they don’t seem to notice me. I shove a few books in my backpack, zip it up, throw it on, and then storm back out through the front door. Tears sting my eyes as I shut the door behind me to the sound of them laughing at the game and not a single mention of my leaving.

Thirst for booze to numb the humiliation flares in my throat, and I hope we have a bottle of something at home because risking a hangover tomorrow is better than feeling this.

I climb into my car, fire up the engine…

And wait.

Scowling at the front door, I don’t move, delaying my escape to see if Clifford comes for me.