She gets up on her knees like she’s thinking about touching me, so I take another step back. “What if I do want you?”
I have no idea how much of this is a show for our audience and how much is her manipulating as she does.
“You don’t. And I don’t want you. Not anymore. Not for a long time, Tash, and especially not after this.” I motion between her, the random girl she’s using, and Rookie.
Her smirk fades, like maybe she realizes, finally, that this game she’s playing with me has real consequences. But Tash doesn’t know how to be any other way.
I get that, because before Poppy, I didn’t know I could be another way either.
Tash pulls the shirt over her head and jumps up off the bed. “Whatever. It’s always the same thing with you.” She holds out her hand for her phone.
“Tell me your passcode so I can delete whatever pictures you took first.”
She purses her lips, then smiles, but there’s a waver to it.
“Twenty-one twenty-one.”
“Seriously? Did you change it just for tonight?”
She drops her chin, and for a second I’m sad for her. I understand exactly why I kept going back, over and over again, for the same crap. Because under the psycho bullshit is a broken person. And that was something I could relate to. But I can’t fix her. I don’t know that she wants to be fixed. And I can’t be responsible for changing anyone but myself.
I spend the next few minutes scrolling through her phone, deleting the three blurry pictures she managed to take, and then deleting my contact information. Once I’m done, I go into every single one of her accounts until I find the picture her friend sent and delete that, too. I don’t care that she’s yelling at me, or telling me I’m invading her privacy. I don’t even react when she starts slapping me and Rookie has to pull her off.
I check her browsing history; she’s not lying about stalking Poppy. She has every one of her social media accounts bookmarked. It’s almost creepy. Or rather, it’s super fucking creepy.
“I need a minute,” I say to Rookie. I point to the wide-eyed girl. “You need to take her somewhere.”
“What?” He looks confused.
“I need to talk to Tash without an audience. Go hang out on the balcony or something.”
“Can I have my phone back?” the girl asks.
“Not until I erase all the pictures.”
“I only took one.”
“You know we can have you sign an NDA right now, and if you post anything—any little fucking thing about me or Rookie—you’ll have a lawsuit so fucking fast your head will pop off.”
Her bottom lip trembles. “I-I’m s-sorry.”
“Don’t listen to his bullshit. He’s pissed off that we came up here with his friend.”
I spin to face Tash. “Don’t you ever get tired of the head games?”
That shuts her up, at least for now.
I delete the image from the girl’s phone before I pass it back to her. Rookie takes her by the elbow and heads for the door, which I sincerely appreciate.
“I’ll message when Tash is on her way down.”
He gives me a long, worried look. “If you’re longer than twenty I’m bringing her back up.”
As soon as the door closes, Tash takes a step toward me. I hold out my palm. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me.”
She raises her hands in the air and backs up a step.
I grab my shirt from the end of the bed and pull it on, along with a pair of track pants, because there’s no way I’m having any kind of conversation with Tash until I’m fully clothed.
“Seriously, Tash, why are you here?”
She just kind of wilts. “To see you.”
“This thing you think is between us? That’s done. It’s been done for a long time.”
“Are you still mad about last time?”
I run a palm down my face, trying to contain my frustration, but I can’t. How did I ever think this was worth something?
I wish Poppy was here. She keeps me level. She makes me feel like there’s something good in me that I can actually hold on to. I wish I had her to keep me from exploding like this, but Tash always knows how to push me to the edge, light a match, and set me on fire.
“Yes! Yes, I’m still mad about last time, and the time before that, and the one before that, and every single fucking time you brought me someone else after I kept telling you not to. I don’t know why this is such a goddamn surprise for you.”
“Then why didn’t you say no?”
“I don’t know. I don’t fucking know. Because I thought maybe at some point you’d actually hear me and listen. Because I didn’t think I deserved anything better at the time. Look, it doesn’t matter, because you’re not gonna do this again. I meant what I said. I’m done. And you need to be done too. Stop whatever this shit is.” I hold up her phone and scroll through all of Poppy’s bookmarked pages. “This isn’t normal, Tash.”
“I remember her. She was at your house a year ago. How long have you been screwing her? This whole time?”
“What?”
“Were you fucking her back then?” She vibrates with barely contained rage.
“Jesus Christ. Are you on something?”
“Answer the question!” she screams.
She’s all over the place. I recognize the behavior. And it hits me. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before—the ultra highs, the deep-dark lows, the paranoia, the rage, and the grandeur. She’s manic. Just like my mother is.