Epilogue Rune
"C'mon, Rune, just take a beat, and let's talk about this!" Hayes followed me like the sad, pathetic, cheating sack of donkey balls he was.
I spun on my heel and threw a cross-country trophy at his stupid, pretty, cheating face. "FUCK YOU, HAYES WILLOUGHBY!" I shouted. "We're done talking."
He dodged the trophy, which was probably good since it would've done pretty significant damage to his face, seeing as it was a very large first-place trophy, weighed a lot, and I was an All-State fast-pitch softball pitcher.
"I made a mistake, Rune. Can't you forgive me? It didn't mean anything." He picked up the pieces of the trophy and stared at them. "Also, can you not throw my trophies, please?"
I threw another trophy at him—this one he caught. "Fuck—and I say this with the utmost disgust—you. Fuck you. Fuck off. Fuck all the way off." I took a break from trophy hurling and started yanking his clothes out of my closet and throwing them out the second-story window into the parking lot below.
"I was drunk, Rune,” he said, watching his clothes flutter to the concrete. “It was an accident."
"Oh, it was an accident? And it didn't mean anything?" I adopted a tone so sickly saccharine you'd get diabetes just by listening. "That makes a difference, Hayes. Why didn't you say so before?" I wiped fake sweat off my brow. "Whew. Glad we worked that out. It was just an accident and it didn't mean anything. We're fine. It's all fine now, Hayes."
He looked so hopeful that I almost ruined the bit by bursting into laughter. “Really?" He even laughed in relief. "I knew you'd see reason."
"NO, YOU MORON!" I threw another trophy at his head. "My god, Hayes, have you always been this stupid, or did the cheating skank you fucked in my bed in my condo do something to short-circuit your brain?" I punctuated each statement by throwing another object at him.
"Rune, for fuck's sake, stop throwing shit at me!"
I threw a signed baseball at him. "Did you miss the part where I said fuck off? Because fuck off, Hayes. You come at me with excuses like 'ohhh it was an accident,' and 'ohhh it didn't mean anything,’” I snapped, in a deep, mocking voice. "You accidentally put your dick in another girl's vagina…on accident. You accidentally invited said girl over to—let me repeat— my condo where you live because I am, apparently, the world's most pathetic pushover. You plied said girl with my alcohol, in my condo, and then accidentally took off all your clothes, accidentally got into my bed, and accidentally put your penis inside her, repeatedly. Got it. It was all an accident. Like, what, you were possessed by a horny ghost? You tripped and your dick just sort of ended up in her twat?” I shook my hands. “You know what, let’s say it was an accident, somehow. Okay, fine. Moving on to your next excuse: it didn't mean anything."
"It didn't! I love you, not her!"
My blood, boiling with rage, instantly went ice cold. I very carefully set down the very heavy, very sharp-edged trophy —this man-boy-person-whatever-he-was seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of the damn things. I put it down because if I didn’t, I was liable to brain him with him, and then I’d go to jail, and that didn't sound fun.
I stalked over to him. "What…the fuck …did you just say to me?”
The dimwitted pile of cheating pond scum was not smart enough to recognize his mortal danger. "I don't love her, Rune. It didn't mean anything to me. I lo—"
I picked up one of his balled-up dirty socks from the floor and shoved it into his mouth. "Get out."
He tried to spit the socks out. "Roo—gah, ugh, nasty. Rune, wait!"
I shoved him backward, hard. "Get the fuck out. Get the fuck out before I do something we'll both regret, Hayes."
"But I—"
"No." I was calm—too calm. "Nope. You're done. This is done. In fact—you know what? I’m not gonna waste my time packing your shit. I’ll leave; you stay. You pack your shit. I don't give a single solitary flying fuck where you go or what you do, as long as I never see you again."
"I don't understand—what—what did I say?"
I cackled. "What did you say ? Are you really this dense? For a guy who graduated summa cum laude from Stanford, you sure are a dumbass, you know that?" I put my face in my hands. "Fine, I’ll break it down for you. Number one, you don't accidentally fuck someone. You make a choice. I don't care how wasted I am. I would never, ever have sex with another guy when I’m in a relationship. Because I am in control of my impulses, Hayes. And you know what, I’ll be real with you—I’ve been tempted. I have. Drunk and sober, I’ve been in situations where I’ve met a guy I was attracted to. I’ve even flirted, to the point that if I’d wanted to, I could’ve had sex with him. But you know what I did, Hayes? I chose not to. BECAUSE I’M AN ADULT WITH IMPULSE CONTROL! I don't let my vagina dictate what I do. I make choices, and since I am—or was—in a relationship with you, I chose not to cheat on you. Because I cared about you."
"Rune, I—"
"Shut the fuck up, I'm not done," I snapped. "Number two—it didn't mean anything. Really? Is that supposed to make it better? I'm supposed to feel better because you had sex with someone, but it didn't mean anything? Do you have any clue how insulting that is? It would be better, to some degree, if it did mean something. Like, I could get it a little bit if you'd fallen in love with someone else and just…I don’t know… couldn’t wait to break up with me or something. That's still shitty and pathetic, but at least you ruined our relationship over something that meant something. But no . It didn't. It was just random pussy for you. Meant nothing. You ruined our relationship over what? A few minutes of drunk, meaningless sex? It's so much worse, Hayes. So much worse. So yeah, fuck you for 'it didn't mean anything.'"
"Rune, fuck, please, I'm—"
"Shut up; still talking. I don't want to hear anything you have to say. Keep your apology, by the way, and shove it all the way up your asshole. It means nothing to me—much like the sex with that bitch meant nothing to you. The last thing you said, and the one that really fucks me up? You don’t love her; you love me."
Finally, he seemed to get it. "Rune, I…I didn't mean—"
"We've been together for two and a half years, Hayes. Since sophomore year. Our lives are all tangled up. Your friends, my friends—they’re all in the same social circle. Two and a half years of my life. And you know what you’ve never said to me, not once? That you love me. I say it. I’ve told you I love you frequently. And you know what you say, every single goddamn time? ‘Me too.’ Not ‘I love you too,’ but ‘me too.’” My throat was tight, and my eyes burned, but this little boy did not get to see me cry over him, so I choked it all down. “And now you say it to me? In that context? You didn’t love the random girl you got drunk with and accidentally fucked in my bed, in my condo. You don’t love her. You love me. As I’m throwing you out—literally throwing your shit out the fucking window—you say that to me? Fuck you, Hayes. Fuck you till the end of time."
"Rune, I'm sorry."
I snarled and had to turn away before I punched him in the face. "I told you—shove your ‘sorry’ up your ass. I'm leaving. Get your shit out of my condo and fuck off out of my life—permanently."
I ignored him as I packed a suitcase, carry-on, and purse with enough stuff to last me for a few weeks.
The last thing I said to him before I walked out was: "My dad has keys. I'll give you the weekend to move out, and then I'll let Dad handle you. And I'll tell him what happened."
Hayes paled—my dad was six-six, a former professional strongman, and a BJJ black belt. And he hated Hayes. If I told him why I was breaking up with Hayes before he got a chance to skip town, there was a very real chance Hayes would spend a few months in traction.
I tossed my stuff in my car and drove away without a backward look. I didn’t call anyone. I just drove. North, out of LA for the first time in my life—not counting vacations, obviously.
I'd just graduated college, had no job, a lot of debt, and now…a broken heart.
I'd loved Hayes. Truly. He was sexy in an adorable way; he could be sweet when he wanted to be, and our lives aligned.
Or so I'd thought.
Two and a half years…and he cheats on me the week after we graduate. Who does that? The ink on our diplomas wasn't even dry yet.
I made it thirty minutes north of LA before I had to pull over and have my breakdown. Or, the first of what I assumed would be several.
This one was for me. A private breakdown, if you will.
Once I was able to get my shit together once more, I set out again, heading for who the hell knows where.
Anywhere but here.
SEATTLE, WASHINGTON; TWO MONTHS LATER
"Linz, let me stop you right there,” I said. “No. Just…no."
My best friend, Lindsey Snelling, let out a frustrated sigh. "It's one afternoon, Rune. You can handle it."
"Absolutely not."
"It's Raquel, babe. We love Raquel."
"We do love Raquel, but it’s not just one afternoon. It's travelling there. Getting a hotel. She'll want to have the bachelorette party the night before." I swallowed hard. "And he’ll be there."
"That's the real reason, Rune, and we both know it. It's been two months. Surely you can stomach seeing him for the duration of one wedding."
"Surely I cannot, Linz. Am I still all sad and heartbroken? No. I'm okay. But I never want to see his ass again. Not even for Raquel."
"You don't even have to see him. Not really. He'll be there, yes, because obviously Raquel's brother is his best friend. But you can avoid him. Better yet, find someone to bring with you, Rune. Let him see you happy."
I sighed. "Linz. Bring someone? Who?"
"I dunno. Go on Farmer's Only or something."
"Funny."
"Rune, you have to go to Raquel's wedding. She and Hamish are wonderful together and you'll regret it the rest of your life if you let Hayes Motherfucking Willoughby's dumb cheater ass keep you out of it. Please. On Raquel's behalf and my own, I'm begging you."
"Where is it again?" I asked. "Juneau?"
"Ketchikan. Supposed to be a really cool place, actually. I've done a little research. She has a bar crawl planned for her bachelorette party, and the crown jewel of the bar crawl is a place called Badd Kitty. It’s supposed to be the place to go for young people our age."
"Badd Kitty? Really?" I let out a disgusted sigh. "What kind of a name is that for a bar?"
"I dunno, babe. All I know is that everything I've read online says it's amazing. The reviews on Insta are crazy. The guys who work there are supposed to be wicked hot."
"Wicked hot, huh?" I laughed. "Your Boston is showing again."
"Shut up," she said, playing up her natural accent. "Just come, Rune."
"And it's when?"
"A week from tomorrow."
"Why so last minute? Is she pregnant?"
“No, they just decided to elope since neither of their parents approve. They don't see the point in waiting. They had this backpacking trip to Alaska planned anyway, so they decided to make Ketchikan the last stop and get married there. It's gonna be small and simple, just our friend group."
"Which is so much worse, Linz—everyone knows what happened, but—"
'But you ran away like a chicken and you haven't talked to any of us about it," she interrupted.
"I talked to you about it."
"Well, yeah. But only me. Everyone else had to hear it secondhand from me."
I sighed. "I don't want to talk about it. That's my condition. No one, and I mean no one , asks me a single fucking question about Hayes Motherfucking Willoughby."
"So you'll go?"
"Yeah, I'll go. But tell them all, Linz." I sighed again. "And I'm going to Ketchikan first. Maybe I can pick up a fake boyfriend or something."
"Or maybe you can pick up a real boyfriend or something?"
I laughed bitterly. "Not happening. I've had four boyfriends in my life, Linz. Four . That’s it. And what do they have in common? They’ve all cheated on me. So, no thanks. No more boyfriends. I'm thinking of joining a nunnery."
"I don't think they call them nunneries, babe. I think that was just a Shakespeare thing." She laughed a little too hard. "Plus, you're not even religious. You swear more than my brother, and he was in the Navy."
"Fuck off, I do not."
She just cackled. "Fine. A fake boyfriend, then, little miss bitter."
"Glad you see it my way."
"What's the name of the bar, again?"
"Badd Kitty,” she answered. “There’s also Badd’s Bar I stole his stool the moment he left, pulled up my thread with Linz, and started texting.
“Welcome to the Kitty," a deep voice said. "What can I get you?"
"House white and Sprite, half and half," I said, not looking up.
"Seven-Up okay?"
"Sure."
A silent pause. I got the impression he was waiting for something, so I finally looked up.
Oh.
Oh shit .
He was fucking hot as balls.
He towered over me—I was sitting and he was standing, but still, he was huge . His arms made my mouth water, and his shoulders were…oof. So broad. But his eyes? And his hair? Fuck.
Brown eyes—molten chocolate. Puppy dog brown eyes that sparked with humor and intelligence and attitude.
His hair was reddish-brown, wavy and messy, but not messy on purpose—messy because he didn't care and it ended up looking like he'd just rolled out of bed. In a sexy way, to be clear.
Permanent just-fucked hair.
Sex hair.
Run-your-hands-through-it-while-screaming-his-name hair.
"What are you doing a week from tomorrow?" I heard myself blurt.
A sly, wicked grin spread across his absurdly gorgeous, chiseled-from-marble face. "You, it would appear."
BADD BABY
Coming soon!