Chapter 1 #2
The bedroom door opens and she struts out like she owns the place, holding her phone up like she’s recording. “Ethan, baby, tell your crazy ex it’s time to go.”
“The fuck?”
She smirks, lips glossy and fake. “He told me all about you. How you’re obsessed with him. God, it’s sad, really. You need to get a life.”
I take a slow, steadying breath, eyes flicking between Ethan’s guilty face and her half-naked body, standing there in nothing but panties and a bra like she belongs. Something inside me snaps clean in two.
“You’re right,” I say, voice suddenly calm. “I do need to get a life. Fuck you both very much.”
I grab my keys and walk out without another word. The nearest bar I find is a loud, sticky-floored sports bar. Perfect. I don’t give a shit. I need tequila in industrial quantities, stat.
I slide onto a stool and order four shots. The bartender lines them up, watching me warily as I throw them back one after another, the burn chasing away the numbness.
“You alright there, honey?”
I shake my head. “Nope. But I will be.”
An hour later I’m nicely buzzed when a group of girls approaches, giggling and whispering.
“Oh my god, are you Ethan Hayes’ girlfriend?”
“What?” I slur, blinking at them.
They shove a phone in my face. “Is this you? Girl, you are all over TikTok right now.”
I snatch the phone. The video is already blowing up. I watch it twice, then reach across the bar, grab the bottle of tequila, and drink straight from it like it’s water.
The girls’ eyes light up. More people turn toward me. Phones start coming out and I don’t give one single shit. “That little-dick motherfucker has no idea what he just did,” I announce, loud enough for half the bar to hear.
The crowd presses closer. “I’m serious,” I continue, voice rising. “They always say it’s all about the motion in the ocean, but that’s bullshit. His cock is too small for any real motion. It’s not even that thick. Honestly, it felt like fucking a sad little finger with commitment issues.”
Laughter ripples through the bar. I’m drunk and reckless and free for the first time in years. I climb up onto the bar, heels kicking aside peanut shells, and start pacing like it’s my personal stage.
“Oh, and I’ll tell you another thing—” I point dramatically with the tequila bottle.
“He lasts maybe two minutes on a good day. Then he rolls over, checks his fantasy football scores, and asks if I came. Spoiler, I didn’t.
Not once in eight fucking years. The man couldn’t find a clit with a GPS and a headlamp. ”
The bar erupts. Phones are everywhere now, recording my unhinged coronation as the queen of messy breakups.
“But you know what the worst part is?” I shout, spinning around so the whole room can see me.
“I gave up everything for him. My dreams, my friends, my fucking career, because he said he wanted me home. And the second I wasn’t entertaining him 24/7, he stuck his sad little dick in the first Instagram thot who smiled at him. ”
I take another long swig, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
“So here’s my public service announcement, if your man makes you feel small, makes you quit your life for his, and still steps out on you…
burn that shit to the ground, ladies. And make sure the whole internet watches while you do it. ”
The crowd cheers. Someone starts chanting “Fuck Ethan!” and half the bar joins in. I’m laughing, crying, and spinning on the bar like a woman reborn when a deep, amused voice cuts through the noise from the end of the counter. “Damn, sweetheart. Remind me never to piss you off.”
I turn, swaying slightly, and lock eyes with the tallest, most dangerously attractive man in the room. Dark hair, sharper jawline, tattoos peeking from the collar of his black button-down. He’s watching me like I’m the most entertaining thing to walk into this bar all night.
The crowd is roaring, chanting “Fuck Ethan!” like it’s a victory anthem, when my phone starts vibrating in my back pocket. I fish it out, squinting at the screen through the tequila haze. “Uh oh,” I announce to the entire bar, holding the phone up high so everyone can see. “Daddy’s calling!”
Laughter explodes again. I grin like a maniac and answer on speaker, because why the hell not at this point?
“Hiya daddy?” My voice comes out syrupy-sweet and slurred.
His growl is immediate and pissed. “Get your ass off that fucking bar right now. I’ve seen the videos. The whole damn internet has seen the videos. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
I blink, swaying on the sticky bar top. “You’re watching TikTok now? Since when?”
“I already bought you a ticket home. The flight leaves in two hours. There’s an Uber pulling up outside in a couple of minutes to haul your drunk ass to the airport. Get down from there before you fall and break your neck.”
The bar has gone quieter, people leaning in to eavesdrop on the call. I can feel the heat of everyone’s eyes on me, especially the tall stranger at the end of the bar, who’s now watching with an amused smirk.