Chapter 21

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Lyrical~

I didn't want to go to my apartment and wait for Nixon. I didn't want to see him, much less listen to whatever lame ass excuse that he had planned to follow 'It's not what it looks like'.

However, the funny thing about it all?

I wasn't even sure what I was feeling right now. My heart was telling me that it was broken while my mind was telling me to be practical since Nixon and I had never clarified that this thing that we'd been doing was exclusive. As for my anger? My anger was telling me to go back there, then beat that woman until she no longer looked like perfection. It was also telling me to cut off Nixon's dick, then feed it to him until he choked to death.

Christ, how I wanted to listen to my anger.

Luckily, pride stepped up and was telling me to get it together. It was also pointing out that I should really be quite tired of humiliating myself in front of Nixon St. James by now. I also totally decided to ignore my mind when it kept trying to interject that Nixon and I had never established exclusivity between us. Besides, it wasn't like Nixon didn't already know that I was crazy. So, if I decided to go ahead and ignore my broken heart, mind, and pride, and just feed into my anger and go balls-out on the fuckface, he shouldn't be surprised, right?

It was only eight minutes later when there was a knock on my door. I seriously contemplated not answering, but if there was one thing that I knew to be true, it was that people needed closure. You needed the grand finale, or else you ended up with pockets of self-doubt later on down the road. Now, while I might not have an issue living with pockets of insanity every now and again, regret sucked, and so I tried to avoid it as much as possible.

I answered the door, and a very haggard-looking Nixon St. James stood before me. At least, he put on some shoes, which was a good thing since he looked like he ran here. I stepped back, giving him enough room to walk into my apartment, even though what I really wanted to do was slam the door in his overly-handsome face.

When the door shut behind me, Nixon turned around, and he looked like he had so much to say but had suddenly forgotten how to speak English. He looked lost, and I hated that. I hated it because he actually looked like he was the victim in all this.

The asshole.

"Lyrical, I-"

I put my hand up to stop him. I knew that I'd been the one who'd told him that he could come over to explain, but I really just didn't feel like hearing his bullshit. Plus, because I had deep seeded issues, even if there was an innocent explanation for all of this, seeing firsthand the kind of women that he got involved with was a real eye opener.

How in the hell did a pear compete with a shiny, delicious, ruby-red apple? Everyone loved apples. They were so loved that there was even a saying coined after them: 'An apple a day keeps the doctor away'. Have you ever heard any snazzy sayings about pears? No? Yeah...well, I hadn't, either.

"Nixon, can I be real with you?" I asked, even though his answer was nonconsequential since I was going to say what I had to say, regardless.

Nixon let out a deep sigh. "Have you ever been anything else?"

What a fucking twat.

I mean, he was the one that had fucked up here, not me. So, you'd think that the least he could do was watch his words.

I decided to ignore his comment because...well, let's face it, it hadn't really been a question, and I had been about to go full-blown psycho on him. However, my pride rose from the ashes of my broken self-esteem, then whispered quietly in my head, "This will be like the hundredth time you've humiliated yourself in front of this man. Don't do it again, Lyrical. Don't. Do. It."

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