Jezebel |h.s|

Thirteen

Isabella

The pounding of a fist on my front door wakes me up from my nap earlier than I intended to. Kat usually isn't home on Thursdays until late, long after I've gone to the club for my shift. I was scared to open the door at first, but once I realized who was on the other side I relaxed. But not by that much.

There was no pretending I wasn't home, which kind of forced me to go and answer the door. I rushed to answer the door while pulling on a hoodie, not wanting to piss Christian off more. He walks in as soon as the door is opened and I close the door behind him.

"Why aren't you at the club?" I ask, since he's always there by this time. It's honestly weird seeing him in my apartment since he pretty much has boycotted the place for as long as I can remember.

Christian wastes no time searching the apartment, "Where is he?" His voice is booming as he demands answers.

My brows knit together in confusion. "Who, Christian?"

"That fucking guy! I know you're screwing him!"

"What guy? And I'm not screwing anyone, Chris. I don't even have time to get myself off, I'm definitely not having sex with anyone." Not in my real life anyways. My dreams though, that's a different story.

Once he deems the apartment clear of any men, he turns his attention back to me. "Don't play stupid, Isabella. I know you sent your little friend back to the club because you thought it would scare me, but it didn't."

It probably shouldn't be that much of a surprise to hear that Harry showed up at the club again. It's not like I told him I was taking a few days off from the club and he clearly has no shame when it comes to showing up to my place of work and ogling at me. I just know the way my heart races and my face starts to burn up is wrong, especially given the circumstances.

Here's my unhinged ex screaming at me and all I can think about is Harry sitting in a booth waiting for me to walk onto the stage.

I do my best to snap out of it quickly, knowing that if I hesitate for even a second, Chris will get even worse. "I didn't send anyone. Honestly Chris, do you think I'm an idiot?"

"Yeah actually, I do. I don't know what games you're playing, but they end now. I'm putting my foot down, this isn't happening anymore. And if this guy shows up to the club tonight again, you're gonna regret it."

"Why? Why do you care so much? We're broken up. We haven't been a thing for weeks now. I told you I'm done with this headache, Christian. I'm not playing games. So who gives a crap if some perv decides to come and watch my set? Isn't that the point? Why is this guy getting under your skin so badly?"

Chris shakes his head, slamming his hand against the small, circular dining table, probably close to breaking the glass. "Stop saying that! I haven't ended this relationship, we aren't over! And when a guy comes in and knows your real name, it's gonna raise some questions."

My eyes involuntarily roll, hating how possessive he is over me. He's always called the shots in this relationship whether I agree or not. Usually I'd be too wasted or high to go against what he wants, which is why he hates my sobriety. "You slept with other girls, you don't get a say anymore. We're done, Christian. I don't want this anymore, I don't want you anymore. And I have a life now, outside of you and the club so people, men, are going to find out my real name."

He's quiet, too quiet for my liking. He looks away from me to the ground, letting out a long, heavy sigh. When he finally looks back at me, he shakes his head. "So that's what this is? You slept with him because you walked in on me? That's so childish, Isabella. You're always so childish."