🥊 Hate or Fate 💕 {Enemies to Lovers}

.13.

For two weeks, I dealt with the fallout of my relationship's untimely demise from Rebecca's cozy apartment. 

The most recent casualty of our split was my laundry, or more specifically, my underwear.

The washer and dryer set in Elijah's condo never had a problem cleaning my delicates. In fact, I witnessed those spiffy machines perform several sartorial miracles. Like the time it steam-cleaned the mud-soaked uniforms of Elijah's entire work softball league after their game was rained out.

Unfortunately, I just discovered that the antebellum devil boxes in the basement of Rebecca's apartment building had chewed up most of my underpants (and two of my favorite bras). Gentle cycle my ass.

"I'm sorry, chica," Rebecca crooned from behind me. I was sitting on her couch and picking through the tattered material for any survivors. I held up a pair of battered lace boy shorts to find her face through one of the gaping holes. "I should have told you, never put your panties or your bras in those machines. I do all my delicates in the sink."

"This was my favorite pair," I told her, holding back a defeated laugh. "Elijah said they-"

"Screw that guy!" She interrupted me with a saucy swivel of her hip to emphasize her point. "You've been here how long? Why hasn't that boy called you to apologize and beg your forgiveness?"

She wasn't wrong. Elijah hadn't so much as tried to get ahold of me.

Bart and Grady called me several times, but I sent all of their attempts to voicemail. I didn't even bother listening to the messages they left, either, because I couldn't stomach hearing the pity in their voices.

Even worse, I hadn't heard from Elijah's mom at all. That stung almost as much as finding out my boyfriend was having sex with other people.

Even stranger, Gray sent a short string of texts the week after we ran into each other randomly on the street.

'Just remember what Dylan said: When you've got nothing, you've got nothing to lose,' the first one said.

He'd sent it at ten o'clock at night. 

Rebecca and I were watching Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead and gorging on a pint of pistachio gelato when it came through. Unmoved, I rolled my eyes at his lackluster attempt at empathy and went back to the movie. 

'You deserve better than him, or us.' 

His second text, however, made my hands shake.

Instead of replying to him, I threw my phone on the floor and yelled into a couch pillow until my throat was as raw as the skin under my eyes. Rebecca calmly watched my freakout and paused the movie, waiting for me to sit up and continue on with my life.

"I haven't heard from him because Elijah's on a lot of painkillers," I reasoned.

I'd been trying not to think about Elijah's radio silence, but I didn't need to go and make excuses for his bad behavior. 

"So what?" Rebecca tossed her curtain of hair over the smart black and white striped satin blouse she was wearing. "If that boy's medicated then he should be calling you and leaving all sorts of stupid messages. He should be drugged out of his mind and crying like a baby. Has he done that?"

"Not that I can recall," I shook my head and cracked a sad smile.

"So, he's stupid," Rebecca declared, flinging her coat onto her floral recliner before strutting into her kitchen. "You can't be with some stupid-jerk-liar who couldn't even find your g-spot. That makes you look stupid."

"Wow, I really regret telling you about that," I sighed and wadded up the rest of my shredded panties to throw away. "We had great sex, most of the time."

I pushed up off the couch and followed her into the kitchen, which was a tight squeeze for two people.

"That boy was coming over to your house for several years," she turned to give me a deadpan look. "He shouldn't need a map to find your clit."

"Fair enough," I chuckled while she rummaged in the fridge for some of the leftover Chinese food we shared the night before. "Speaking of houses, I have to go to my old place and pick up some more underpants." 

Rebecca straightened up with a feisty sneer on her gorgeous face. "Don't you dare go alone!"

"Woah," I held up my hands in defense to realize that I was still carrying my grated lace underwear. "Noted."

"I'm serious, chica!" She smacked the door of the fridge with her hip to shut it. "You shouldn't go over there at all, and you definitely shouldn't go there by yourself. Think about it, you might run into Elijah! Why not use this as an excuse to buy yourself some sexy new panties? Girl, you don't want your old bloomers. You want slinky lingerie that makes you feel like a confident boss-bitch who can get any man or woman she wants. Screw Elijah and your old drawers!"

"No, I got screwed by Elijah," I winced as the self-deprecating joke flew out of my mouth. "And I still love him. Why do I still love him, Rebecca? He hurt me so much. I should hate him, right? Why don't I hate him?"

My whole body began quivering along with my lip as heat enveloped me whole. 

That had been happening a lot recently. I would have surges of emotions, which felt like riding the surging waves of a panic attack that never really seemed to end. One moment I was brokenhearted and questioning myself, the next I was mad as hell and deleting photos of us from social media to try and erase any evidence of our happiness.

I think subconsciously I wanted Elijah's mom to see that I was scrubbing away those memories and reach out, but she never did. 

"You don't have to hate him," her expression softened as Rebecca realized I was on the verge of (more) tears. "You just can't trust him, chica."

I let the silence settle over us while Rebecca dug through a drawer for a pair of chopsticks to eat her cold noodles.

I wasn't going to say it out loud, but I desperately wanted to talk to Elijah's mom. In the past, she was the person I would call if f I needed someone to talk to or a shoulder to cry on. She was there for me like the mom I never had, but that relationship felt off-limits after my breakup with Elijah.

"I'm serious, chica," Rebecca remarked through her mouthful. "No more granny panties. New undies, equal a new attitude, alright? Besides, you need to invest in some spicy numbers for your future rebound sex!"

"You said no rebound sex on your couch," I reminded her.

"So you go to his place," she rolled her eyes and plucked a hunk of broccoli from the carton. "And then you come home, and you tell me all about it."

I smiled and bobbed my head as if taking her suggestions under consideration.

"I'm going to get you back out there, girl," Rebecca warned, swirling a chopstick at me. "And then you can help me get into Gray's pants."  

"Yikes," I snorted.

Rebecca cackled as she maneuvered around me toward the hallway. I waited until I heard her bedroom door latch before pulling out my phone to stare at Gray's text one more time.