Page 36 of A Little Jaded
“Thanks for coming today, too.”
“Thanks for asking me,” I volley back with a smirk, hinting I can play this game all day.
She lets out a breathless laugh. “Thanks foralmostmaking me forget what we’re doing here.”
Twisting her around, I let her back hit the front door and step closer. Her breath hitches again as I press my front to hers, knowing Drake won’t be able to see us anymore. But it’s almost better this way. Let his imagination drive him insane.
“And what are we doing here?” I challenge.
Another breath catches in her throat before she presses her hands to my chest and smiles up at me. “Getting my things, remember?”
“Right.” My smirk widens. “Because you’re leaving your asshole of an ex.”
Her throat tightens with a gulp and I swear I see a flash of fear hit her eyes. It makes my grin falter for an instant until I force it back into place. I hate that I might not be the one to put the fear in her pretty green eyes, but I’m still the one calling Drake an asshole and poking the bear. I’m also the one giving her the opportunity to do the same. She doesn’t get it though. She deserves this moment, no matter how small it is in the scheme of things. The opportunity to take back a sliver of the confidence he beat out of her.
Don’t be afraid of him, I want to tell her, but I keep my mouth shut, knowing Drake can hear us now.
“Yes,” she finally whispers. “I’m finally leaving my asshole of an ex.” Her chest expands on a cleansing breath. “And I’m never coming back.”
Genuine relief and pride fill my chest as I stare down at her. I don’t know Raine. Not really. But I do know that if Finley was in this position, I’d expect her to give two giant middle fingers to her ex as she ended things. While Raine might not be able to break up with Drake face-to-face, she’s stood up to him now, letting him know she’s leaving and never coming back.
Remembering the facade we’re still putting on, I murmur, “That’s my girl,” praying the words don’t sound as forced as they feel as they roll off my tongue. “Now, come on. Let’s grab your things so we can get out of here.” I reach around her waist, turn the key still lodged in the lock, and slowly push the door open while making sure Raine doesn’t lose her footing in the process. The hinges squeak in protest, and Raine turnsaround, opening it the rest of the way, letting us both inside.
It’s messy.
Not average messy. More like a grown-ass toddler threw a fit without caring about the wreckage, and fuck me, it’s everywhere. Pillows are knocked off the couch. One of the kitchen chairs is on its side. Glass litters the floor, along with a dozen wilted roses and a puddle of water staining the transition from tile to carpet in the small kitchen and family room. A shattered mirror clings to a single nail still pinning it to the wall, and I’m pretty sure if I breathe on it wrong, it’ll clatter to the ground. The clothes and shoes are the biggest mess, though.
Shit is everywhere, and if I had to guess, most of it belongs to Raine.
My attention flicks to her. Molars grinding, she scans the apartment, then marches toward a broken picture frame on the wall. Pieces of paper lie on the ground. She wipes beneath her nose with the arm of her jacket, then bends down and scoops up different items of clothing. Jackets. Shoes. Shirts. Jeans. She’s pissed. She has every right to be. But whatever fear she was drowning in when we walked in here has morphed into something angrier. Something more fierce.
Reaching for the edge of the front door, I close it behind us. “You okay?” I ask quietly.
“This is Drake’s way of being a dick.” She huffs, dropping the collected clothes onto the coffee table, and gathers more scattered items from the kitchen. “He’s probably hoping it’ll give him more time to corner me when I decide to come grab my things. Doesn’t mean he had to rip up my art, though,” she mutters under her breath. “Sonofabitch.”
Striding toward the broken frame, I bend down and pick up the ripped pieces of paper. None of them are much biggerthan a coin, but whatever it was, it meant something to her. Like pieces of a puzzle, I’m given a tiny glimpse of the entire drawing. Is it a…dandelion? A bouquet of dandelions? I tilt my head and try to line up a few of the pieces in my palm.
“Leave it,” Raine murmurs behind me. “We should hurry.”
Avoiding the broken glass, I pick up the rest of the pieces and push them into my pocket, kicking my ass into gear. I gather anything looking like it belongs to a girl, adding the pink sweats and matching hoodie to the pile on the coffee table with the various shit Raine already set aside when a bright red thong catches my attention on the back of the worn gray couch. An image of what it would look like on Raine flashes through my mind, and I freeze. The girl’s so guarded, I half-expected her to be a boyshorts-only type of girl. Nothing wrong with boyshorts, mind you. Fuck, a girl like Raine could pull off anything. But a thong? A red thong? My eyes wander to the owner in question and drift back to the scrap of fabric.
“Is there a—oh.” With red cheeks, Raine snags the thong from the top cushion and tucks it into her pocket.
“You good?” I ask.
“You can wait outside.”
“I can help?—”
“I’ve got this. Go.”
Like I’m the plague, she avoids me, keeping a wide berth between us as she heads to the kitchen, clearly dismissing me.
“Nothing wrong with red,” I point out.
Her gaze narrows, and she folds her arms. “Didn’t say there was.”
“Good, because there isn’t.” I snag a black heel from the ground and toss it onto the growing pile of clothes when my attention catches on a neon yellow lacy bra. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for this color, though.”