Gia
I stumbled out of the bedroom, my legs trembling like they might give out beneath me. My heart hammered so loud it felt as if it was going to jump out through my heart as I tried to comprehend what I had just seen.
The scene burned behind my eyelids, Preston, my boyfriend, tangled in bed. My bed, with another woman.
"Gia, wait!" His voice cracked, frantic, as he scrambled after me trying to get some form of clothing on, bare feet slapped the hardwood, chasing me down the hall.
I made it to the front door, my hand fumbling for the knob when he grabbed my wrist. "Gia wait!"
I yanked free, spinning to face him, and the sight of him lit a fire in my gut. Shirtless, hair a sweaty mess, lips still swollen from kissing someone who wasn't me. The air stank of her cheap perfume clinging to him like a second skin.
"Gia, let me explain," he pleaded, hands up like I was the one overreacting. "It's not what you think."
A sharp, bitter laugh tore out of me before I could stop it. Did he think I was that stupid? "Not what I think? I just saw you screwing her, Preston! So tell me, what exactly am I supposed to think?"
He flinched, then dragged a hand down his face with a groan, like I was the exhausting one and he wasn't the one just caught pants down. "Come on, Gia, it was just sex. It didn't mean anything."
I stared at him, disgust curling in my stomach like sour milk. "Just sex?" I echoed, my voice trembling with disbelief. "First, you cheat on me with another woman in my apartment, on my bed! And you say it's just sex! Is that supposed to make it okay?"
He sighed again, louder, shoulders slumping as if I'd missed the point. "Look, you haven't …" He exhaled sharply. "You weren't exactly making it easy for me."
I blinked, his words hitting me like a slap I didn't see coming. "What the hell does that mean? So it's my fault now?"
His jaw tightened, and he looked away for a split second before meeting my eyes again. "That's not what I said, but if you weren't so—" He exhaled sharply, a frustrated edge to it. "Gia, if you'd just put in some effort at the gym, maybe I wouldn't have had to look elsewhere. Maybe I'd still find you desirable."
The world went still. My breath caught in my throat. No way he'd just said that. No way he'd turned this, his infidelity into my fault. I replayed it in my head, thinking I might have misheard him, but I didn't, my body, my size, is the reason he cheated. He was blaming this on me.
My hand moved before my brain caught up. The slap rang out, my palm stinging as his head snapped to the side. His eyes widened, shock flashing across his stupid, pretty face.
"The fuck, Gia!" he snapped, clutching his cheek, anger flaring in his glare.
"Get your shit and get out of my apartment," I said, my voice low and steady despite the storm raging inside me. "If your sorry ass is still here when I get back, I swear to God, I'll burn every damn thing you own."
I turned and walked out, leaving him standing there like the pathetic excuse of a man he was. The woman he cheated on me with, was still hiding in the bedroom, and the only reason stopping me from storming back inside and dragging her out by her hair, was because I knew it was no fault of hers. Knowing Preston, he would have lied about being single and the apartment being his.
"Gia, come on!" he called, his tone softening into that fake-sweet whine I used to fall for. "Baby, don't throw us away over something this small—"
The door slammed shut, cutting off his bullshit mid-sentence. I stood in front of my car in the driveway for a second, the silence buzzing in my ears, my hand still tingling from the slap. Tears prickled hot behind my eyes, but I clenched my jaw and blinked them back. He didn't deserve them. He never had.
I wondered how many times he had cheated on me without my knowing. I wasn't supposed to be back home now, but I had to leave work early because I wasn't feeling well. It's a good thing I did, or I would have continued to house a cheat.
Maybe this was my fault, not for the crap he spewed, but for letting him in. For ignoring the signs, the red flags. I could still hear him from our first date, smirking over his beer: "You'd be a knockout if you dropped a few, babe." Eight months I'd wasted on him, shrinking myself to fit his shallow little world, and for what? A cheating loser who couldn't even hold down a job. A walking red flag I'd dressed up as a boyfriend.
I slid into my car, the leather seat cold against my thighs, and fumbled for my phone. My fingers shook as I dialed Zara, my best friend, the one person who I could be vulnerable with.