CHAPTER SIXTEEN TABATHA

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

TABATHA

I'm in total bitch mode and everyone knows it. Why am I so bitchy, you ask? Dash! I haven't seen or spoken to him in two days. Since the day that he wrecked at the track—when he promised to explain everything. He was going to calm my concerns and prove he wasn't a total lying douchebag.

Once the doctors informed us that he was refusing treatment and checking himself out of the hospital, he had requested to see my father. I was so relieved that he was awake, talking, and rather ready to leave, as the nurse put it, that I didn't realize he didn't ask to see me. After my father came out and told us that he seemed just fine and more determined than before to get on the track, Valerie made her way back to see him. When she came out, she announced very loud and proud that he had agreed to go stay with her parents.

What. The. Fuck. At that moment, my mood went from relieved to fucking pissy. I sat there like a fucking idiot for the next hour with Jackie and Blake giving me looks of pity. They knew that he wasn't gonna ask to see me, and I hoped to prove them wrong. They were right! But what did I expect? She had called him, and he had lied to me about it. You don't lie to someone unless you have something to hide. He obviously was still seeing her, and I was the side chick. I do believe that he wasn't sleeping with me to further his career with my father because being with me would just get him fired. But Valerie? I'm still confused to what that connection is.

After I waited an hour and heard nothing from Dash, we left. I stood and walked out without saying good-bye to anyone. Blake and Jackie followed me out. They ended up coming over to my house and hanging out, but they didn't stay long. They could tell my mood was getting worse by the second. The bastard didn't even text me to say sorry or even explain why he chose to go to their house. Hell, for all I know, Valerie went there and sucked his dick. Who knows what he sees in her. It's obviously not her personality, so the bitch has to have some mad bed skills.

I wanted to ask Blake about Dash and Valerie's history. I wanted to know what their current relationship was, but what good would that do? He wasn't offering any information, so I decided against it. Why throw salt into the wound?

Now I sit in my first class of the day. No makeup, hair up in a messy bun. I'm wearing yoga pants and a tank top. I didn't dress to impress anyone this morning. If my mother were to see me, she would tell me to cover up the dark circles under my eyes from the lack of sleep I've had over the last two days. To put on a dress and some six-inch heels. But thankfully, I no longer live at home, so I can look as distasteful as I want.

My face must say ‘stay the fuck away from me' ‘cause no one has spoken a word to me. But I can still hear them talking about who they did or where they went on their Spring Break. You would think that these guys have never been laid before. I mean, come on—mix alcohol, beach, and bikinis, and you're gonna get lucky no matter how much of a fucking douche you are.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes to try to calm my nerves. I don't have a class on Mondays. Yesterday, I did nothing but sat around my house listening to every song that resembled hating men. It helped a little. It mainly just fueled my fire to want to punch him even more.

I want so badly to lean over, grab my phone out of my purse, call the fucker up, and give him a piece of my mind. But what good would it do? Just make me look like a crazy bitch who felt more for him than he did me. I've been the fool before. Rodger made me that little puppy that followed him around and made him feel superior. I won't give Dash that satisfaction.

"Miss Knight. See me after class."

I open my eyes and look down as my professor tosses my test onto my desk. An F is scrawled across the top, and I slap my hand over it. Just fucking great!

I do nothing during class but stare at the wall ahead of me and contemplate what to do to put this anger to good use. By the time my professor dismisses class, I still have nothing.

I stomp my way down to his desk. "An F? How did I get an F?" I demand.

He leans back in his chair calmly and looks up at me. "Miss Knight, what you do outside of my class is none of my business. But I suggest that next time you come with your head on your shoulders and your mind working."

"Excuse me?"

He sighs and picks up my test. "You know this material. We both know you do, but that day you were not here."

Of course, I wasn't. I had a hangover from hell, and I was trying to recall who I had woken up next to. Naked. I climbed a tree to jump the fence. Who in the hell cared what I thought about this stupid class? I sigh. "I was having a rough day."

"Miss Knight, I don't consider a hangover being a rough day," he chastises. He takes a second to look me up and down, and he frowns. "Maybe you should concentrate a little more on school and less on partying."

Before I can respond, he hands me back my test. "I was once in college and understand how it feels to be young. I will give you one more chance. You will retake the test this Saturday." He returns to the papers before him, effectively dismissing me.

I shove the test into my backpack and then storm out of the classroom. I look down at my watch and realize that I have thirty minutes until my next class. Thirty minutes? I used to use that time to hang out with Rodger; now I want to spend it in the gym pounding on a punching bag to release my anger.

Looking around the big campus, I decide to head to the coffee shop. Don't ask me why—I hate coffee—but I need a pick-me-up. The moment that I walk in, I regret it. Rodger stands over by the wall talking to a pretty redhead who I know as Whitney. She's his best friend. I was never jealous of her ‘cause, to be honest, he's not her type. She radiates class, the kind you can't buy. She's beautiful, but not the kind that has been added on. She stands tall and yet is down to earth. She's the only woman who I know could run for president and win by just the sound of her voice. When she speaks, people listen. She speaks clearly and is intelligent beyond this world, yet she has a way of making complicated sound so simple. She makes Rodger look stupid. But I never felt that way around her; she made me feel smart at times. She's not the typical girl who goes shopping and tanning on a Saturday. She spends her weekends in the library with her nose stuck in a book. She doesn't read romance. She prefers to read about the world we live in and the culture she wants her future children to grow up in.

I honestly only think Rodger is friends with her to learn from her. All he ever does is argue with her. She always wins, and it drives him nuts. She is the only woman in the world who would make him second-guess himself.

"Tabatha," she exclaims when she spots me.

Shit! "Hey, Whitney." I greet her with a fake smile as I walk over to them. I can't ignore her, but I can ignore Rodger.

"How are you doing?" she asks as she pulls me into a hug. Her red hair smells of citrus.

"Great," I lie.

She pulls away, and her baby blue eyes look into mine. "I was just asking Rodger about you. He said you had been sick." She frowns as she looks me over. "You should go home and get some rest. You do look awful."

I run my hand over my messy bun and remember that I look like hammered dog shit. I smile at her. Her words may seem harsh, but that is just how she speaks. She's not mean, just honest. Most women hate her for that—people hate to hear the truth.

I stiffen as Rodger throws his arm over my shoulder. "I called you just a few minutes ago, Tabby."

Tabby! He knows what the name does to me, how it pisses me off. "What are you doing?" I whisper when Whitney turns around to say hello to someone else.

He lowers his lips down to my ear. "You do look awful. You know? How could you leave the house looking like that? Didn't you know you would see me today?"

The words don't sound the same way coming from him. He makes it sound like I'm the scum on the bottom of his shoe that he needs to scrape against the sidewalk.

"Did you forget that I no longer have to look perfect for you?" I snap. ‘No hair out of place' is what he once said to me before we went over to his father's for dinner.

"To the world, you're still mine, sweetheart." He speaks his words softly, but it is meant to be a threat. Our breakup is still not public knowledge, and I have a feeling his father has something to do with that. He probably paid someone a pretty penny. I know that we are not famous actors or singers, but his dad likes to live in the limelight. So he will leak shit or pay to have stuff thrown out there for everyone. No matter how much he hated me, he thought my father's fame was good for him and his son.

I shove him away, and he stumbles over the table behind us. The commotion causes Whitney to turn back and face us. "Are you okay, Rodger?" she asks, her baby blue eyes wide as she reaches out to him. "What happened?" She looks over to me when he refuses her help to right himself.

"Sorry," I say as I fake cough. "You shouldn't get too close, babe. You may catch my cold."

His jaw tightens as I say babe. He hates that word. Actually, I do too, but I like to see that look of anger on his face. I actually give him a real smile.

"No worries," he says before he straightens his suit jacket. Who in the hell wears a suit to college? He does, every single day! It's annoying and unattractive!

"Are you taking your Vitamin C?" Whitney asks Rodger. He rolls his eyes at her. "Seriously, Rodger. You can prevent sickness with a daily consumption of Vitamin C," she finishes with a sweet smile. I can't help but laugh at her.

"Well, it's been fun chatting with you all. But I must go," I say needing to get the hell out of here.

"Okay," Whitney says and reaches out to hug me once again.

"I don't want you to get sick," I say taking a step back.

"No worries. Unlike your boyfriend, I take my precautions for this kind of event." She pulls me into a hug and then lets me go. I try not to cringe at her calling Rodger my boyfriend. We say our good-byes, and I don't even bother to say another word to Rodger.

I go about my day, sit in my classes, do my work, and try not to fall asleep. I yawn as I exit my car once I pull up to my house. Jackie has been blowing my phone up today checking on me and I haven't responded. I don't want to hear what a dick Dash is. That's what best friends do when a guy dumps your ass. They make them sound like dirt to put a smile on your face. But I also know that she and Blake are going out tonight—she told me that in one of her text messages. But right now, I need sleep more than I need alcohol.

Hmm. Never thought I would say that.

I put my key into the lock and hear the sound of a motorcycle engine. I turn around to see one of the bikes that was in Dash's garage the other day when he took me for a ride.

I stand frozen as I watch the guy get off it. "Tabatha," Dash says the moment he removes his helmet.

"No," I say shaking my head. "I don't wanna hear it, Dash," I announce before I spin back around and finish opening the front door. I rush through it and turn to slam it shut, but he shoves it open.

"I need to talk to you."

I laugh. A laugh that makes my blood boil. How dare this fucker show up here? I continue to walk toward the kitchen. He grabs my shoulder from behind and spins me around. "Don't walk away from me," he demands. For the first time since I've met him, I see him literally pissed. His gray eyes narrow. His nostrils flare, and jaw is tight. Too bad for him. I couldn't care less how mad he is.

"Don't you fucking dare!" I shout back.

"Please," he pleads, softening his voice, "let me explain."

I shake my head. "Your actions told me everything that I needed to know."

He finally releases me and sighs heavily. "You're wrong." He takes a step toward me, and I take a step back to match it. He reaches out once again and gently pulls my body into his. "I've been at your father's."

"No, you haven't," I reply immediately.

He gives me a small smirk. "I have, I promise you. You can even call him. That is who I went home with from the hospital."

I shake my head slowly not wanting to believe his words. "I heard her parents. They said that they had talked to yours and offered for you to stay with them. Valerie came out after seeing you and said that you were going to their house."

He places his hands on my face. "She asked me, yes. I told her that I would. I needed her to believe me."

"So, you lie often." I meant it as a question, but I said it as a statement.

"Yes," he sighs, "I lie to her often. She's is an annoying little bitch, and I can't stand her knowing what I'm up to or where I'm at."

"Geez," I breathe. "I'd hate to hear what you say about me when I'm not around," I huff sarcastically.

"All I do is talk about how great you are. How much I want you."

"Always about sex," I reply.

"No," he says but I can't miss the smirk growing across his face. "Sex is great with you, though."

"If this is how you plan on buttering me up, it's not gonna work." I pull back and cross my arms over my chest.

"I'm not here to butter you up. I'm here to tell you the truth."

"Why should I believe you? You haven't called me. It's been two days, Dash."

"I'm sorry. I went home with your father, and although I'm still somewhat sore, I've spent every waking moment with your father going over our plans. We needed a new one, and we are running out of time."

"I'm sorry that you're still hurting." I can only imagine what the crash did to his body. He's very lucky that nothing was broken.

His head starts to come down to mine. I reach out and softly place my hand on his chest and push him away from me. "Did you really think that you could show up here and expect me to just lie down and spread my legs for you?" I ask in all seriousness.

"What do you want from me?" he asks, taking a step back to give us even more space.

"The truth," I snap, finding my anger again. "I'm pretty sure that is what you promised me at the track."

He runs a hand through his hair with frustration. "What do you wanna know? That Valerie and I were engaged."

"Engaged?" I squeak. "How have you failed to mention that to me?"

"It was a long time ago." He shrugs as if it's no big deal.

"It couldn't have been that long ago," I snap. "You're only twenty-two years old," I remind him, in case he has forgotten.

"Okay. It was three years ago."

I release a long breath. Just fucking great! So this bitch is expecting to marry him. So much for him and I having any chance together.