Everything I thought I knew about Daisy is a lie.
Everything that I hate about this blog, every complaint that I’ve made has all been for nothing because she’s the fucking blogger.
I slam my hand against my steering wheel repeatedly and bite the inside of my cheek hard. I will not cry over this dumb bitch. Pushing my shoulder against the car door, I step out into the rain. The weather is fucking perfect for my mood and I can only hope it continues to rain so I don’t have to leave my house tomorrow, because I plan to get fucking wasted tonight.
“Ethan,” she calls my name out over the rain. I turn slowly to see the girl who I professed my love to standing a few feet away, soaking wet. I look down at my hand, her phone still there and the notifications still coming in.
“I think you lost this.” I toss her phone at her, wanting to keep my distance.
“Let me explain.” She steps forward, her chest is heaving and she brushes her wet hair out of her face.
I shake my head. “I’m not sure there’s anything you can say that’s going to change things right now.”
“Yes there is,” she says, stepping closer. I put my hand out, letting her know I want her to stay back. The resolve on my temper is teetering and I can feel myself about to explode. I feel sorry for anything in my house because it’s about to be damaged. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I never thought we’d meet or even hit it off. The blog is a job from my sports journalism professor. You made it easy, at first, with the things you were doing. Once we started dating, I didn’t know what to do. I need the job, but I need you too.”
“You knew how I felt about the blog and you used me anyway. The first time we stopped talking you should’ve come clean. You should’ve fucking told me who the hell you are!” I growl in anger and frustration.
“I didn’t –”
“You didn’t what? Want to have to write about how you deceived me in your fucked up blog?” I tug at the ends of my hair to keep from hitting something. I’m trying not to yell because the last thing I want to do is draw attention from the neighbors. I’m actually thankful it’s raining right now. The rain drowns out our voices and is keeping people inside.
I feel bile rising when I look at her. She stands there, a shell of the girl I thought I knew. It breaks me to think she used me to gain knowledge of my teammates, my friends. I try to recall any time I gave her any information. I can’t, but I let her into the clubhouse.
“I don’t know what you want from me? Do you finally want your quote? Post this: The Boston Renegades third baseman told me to go to hell.”
I instantly regret the words, but refuse to take them back. I look at her and feel nothing but hatred. “Go back to your apartment and write about how many times I adjust my cup and how Bainbridge’s marriage is falling apart. Go write about how fucking well I treated you, only for you to lie to my face day in and day out.”
“You have no right!” she yells. “This is my job and I need it!”
“All you had to do was be honest with me. All you had to do was give me a chance with the truth, but you didn’t.”
“What am I supposed to do now?”
I shake my head and start walking up my stairs. “Not my problem, Daisy. I don’t care what the fuck you do as long as you don’t do it around me.”
“I gave you everything,” she says, climbing the steps next to me. “You took everything away from me.” Under the porch light I can see her red eyes, letting me know she’s crying even though any tears she has are mixing with the rain.