Situationship [Complete]

4 | Not a Good Look

I'm a smart person, I swear. Intelligent, worldly. But this? This is plain stupid.

The bell jingles a familiar sound when I walk into the coffee shop. The smell of freshly brewed espresso and the sound of an acoustic guitar make me sigh with annoyance. As stereotypical as it is for college students to find themselves in a boho-chic coffee shop, this is where I spent most of my time over the past few months.

Lenny stands behind the counter, watching the musician while wiping down one of the espresso machines. I don't want to grovel, but it doesn't feel like I have another option. He is, by many standards, the kind of guy I saw myself with, but our relationship didn't happen by chance. Lenny is the son of my father's law partner.

Both of us are destined to follow in our fathers' footsteps, and eventually,become partners as well. Masters & Hargrove is to become Masters Masters Hargrove & Hargrove in the near future. Or, at least it was. With the company's anniversary party happening this weekend, it won't be a good look to walk in with that kind of distracting news. I can avoid that drama if I can smooth things over now.

Unfortunately, that's not something I'm great at.

Proving all the ways someone is wrong, finding a way out of a lie, arguing a point from both sides—those are my strengths. Coddling a child, or in my case, a man child . . . Definitely not part of my skill set.

"Teagan," Lenny says with surprise when he sees me. "What are you doing here?" The son of a multi-millionaire working as a barista is the quintessence of our fathers' hypocrisy.

Both of our dads said they wanted us to learn what a hard day's work felt like, but I'm not sure they know what that means. Since undergrad, Lenny has worked in this shop, and I have bounced between graduate positions on campus. Both pay well above what a struggling college kid would usually make and come with flexible schedules.

My dad is always on my back about something, using large purchases as collateral while still giving me a four-figure allowance each month. He can go on thinking the hardest part of my life is not being able to fly to the Maldives to hang out with friends, and I'll continue laughing while being a Black woman consistently in white male spaces.

If a hard day's work to them means a redundant part-time job, that pretty much sums up how in tune they are with reality.

"I came to talk to you," I say.

"I'm a little busy right now." He turns away from me and focuses his attention on the machine again.

The muscles of his back flex beneath his polo. My gaze drops to his backside. I'm getting distracted. "I know I came off a bit harsh last weekend. That wasn't my intent." I may have regrets but I refuse to say the words "I'm sorry" to someone like him. He doesn't turn my way. "I'm not asking you to forgive me for what I said, but the party is this weekend."

"So?"

"So . . . We both have to be there."

He glances at me over his shoulder. "And what do you want me to do? Show up with you and pretend we're still together?"

"Well . . ."

"You are unbelievable." He turns back to me and places his palms on the counter as if I were badgering his witness. "You're just afraid to tell them what you did. Our dads are going to be pissed. You know what they wanted—and that's not even including how excited your mom was that you finally got with someone who has career prospects and an IQ higher than 95."

Welp. "That's valid."

"Why don't you tell your mom who you really are? Tell her why I wasn't good enough for you. Tell her you're not interested in nice guys, you're just another typical female with daddy issues, on her way to having a body count higher than her annual salary."

My eyebrows raise. "Are you calling me a slut?"

"I don't know, Teagan. Would that satisfy you?"

I laugh, taken aback by his audacity. "Fuck you, Lenny. I was trying to apologize."

"No, you were trying to save face. Maybe you should learn the difference." He turns back to the machine, forcing my glare to fall on his back.

He hit a nerve he knew was there, just like he knows what drama at the party will do to me. I'll be caught in a shit storm of my parents' disappointment while he'll continue to play the part of the good guy who had his heart broken. His insults make my blood boil with rage, but underneath it, my anxiety controls it all.

Unable to help myself, I push the large pitcher of cream off the counter, spilling it onto the floor behind him. "Dammit, Teagan!" he yells when it splashes onto his pant leg. It looks like my stomach used to after three minutes with him.

The music stops. In my peripheral, I can see people staring. Why stop now that I have an audience? I put my palms on the counter and lean in.

"I'm not a slut, Lenny. And even if I were, it wouldn't make me less of a person," I correct him. "I didn't leave you because you were a 'nice guy.' I left because you're so used to being at the top, you couldn't deal with someone like me proving you don't deserve to be there," I snip. He fixes his lips to say something else, but I don't give him the chance. "I don't care what else you have to say. Check your misogyny at the door, it's not a good look." I cast a glare in his direction and leave the store.

I storm all the way to my car. When I get inside, I scream. I know I've lost even though I've won.

The summer just started and I'm already stressed out of my mind. I just want one thing to be easy. One thing I can rely on to calm me, to ease my anxieties and . . .

My thought ends when visions of Heath come to mind.

I open my eyes in an attempt to push the naked image of him out of my mind, but it doesn't work. He asked me to think about it. I would be lying if I said hadn't thought about it every moment since. As ridiculous as it sounds, I keep finding myself in situations where all I can think about is running back to his apartment and riding him until I can't see straight.

It's just another stupid idea, but . . . Maybe being smart is overrated.

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