The Girl Behind His Attitude (Under Major Editing)

Chapter 34: Dinner or 'Dinner'

Cole's POV

Fall 2016.

The day I wished never existed.

Slipping on a black tuxedo into my damn built, I never thought today would be one of the most eventful day in my life. Yet, here I was, standing in front of my dusty mirror and processing what the fuck had happened to me ever since I was left high and dry by that fucking woman. The woman who I thought had given me happiness these past years. Turned out, I was just a coin in her sleeve. Getting rolled up and hidden around her perfect scheme. Somehow, I laughed at that silly thought. Mental.

I had to admit though. I was dumb to think that an elite young man like me would find love or sincerity in the greater extension. Frankly, no surprise that the word 'sincere' wasn't famous in the dictionary for riches. If possible, that word would be put on the last page of the handbook. Besides, riches didn't really need dictionary. They invented words in their own version. For instance, 'money' was exchanged for 'love' and 'business' besides 'friendships'. Oh, one more. I just invented this word's meaning today.

Mourn. Mourning was nothing more than saying goodbye to my stupidity and, later, burnt everything associated with it. Confused? You wouldn't be if you were in my shoes. Let me gave you a fucking summary.

Pearl Felori was gone. My cheating ex-girlfriend was no longer breathing.

Technically speaking, I should be happy for not seeing her cheat face again. In reality, I was fucking far from being delighted. The girl didn't just drive me mad these past weeks but she successfully turned my shit upside down in ways I never imagined. I missed her. So damn much. For once, I wanted to see her for the very last time. Worst case possible, I let my embarrassment ate me alive while crying my remaining tears beside her. A final goodbye. However, I decided not to make that choice. Leaving our apartment took an ounce of my insanity and I wasn't ready to face reality outside of my exit door.

The following days, I knew damn well my physical was still considered living but I was far from bring alive. In fact, I didn't even feel any particular emotion. Anger, sadness, regrets and hate were mixed up like gin, tequila, vodka and whisky. It was too strong to be felt. Up to the point where it all just became numb.

Funny how life still treated me as a laughing cow. One moment I screamed at her on top of my lung and kicked her out for doing things behind my back but then, now, I crawled up hopelessly in our bed over her non-existence.

Silence was what I needed. However, the sound of phone ringing echoed through the room countless time. Calls and messages went directly to my mailbox but I never checked them. There was only one person who dared to slap the fuck out of my brain. Clinton.

Five days after the funeral, he knocked on my door like a mad man. Once it opened, he took me by the collar.

"What the heck, dude?! How long are you planning to stay in this damn caveman?" he shouted while I forcefully pulled his hand away.

"Go away, Clint." I walked back to my room.

"No fucking way. Let's go." he grabbed the back of my shirt, dragging me to the door. I breathed harshly before pushing him backward.

"What do you think you are doing exactly?! Acting like a dad?" A scoff left my mouth like a bitter smile.

Clinton looked at me with his sharp stare before the sam. "Damn right, I am. You better make it easy or..."

"Or what?"

"Unless, you choose the hard way." Another laugh escaped my dry mouth. Clinton wouldn't hurt me. His 'hard way' would only be punching me in the face. That was it.