Vanessa
The word "furious" doesn't describe how I feel right now. Maximize the emotion by ten, which may be an accurate description.
I text Brent.
He doesn't reply.
I call him.
He doesn't answer.
When I drop by his house, he's lounging poolside. He's changed into a blue and white striped shirt, unbuttoned and black shorts. He's wearing sunglasses and has a drink in his hand.
I wrinkle my nose.
His mood still stinks.
"Brent," I stand a few feet away from him.
He sips his drink.
Okay.
I'm not sure why he's turned into a child. However, I don't care.
He's being rude--too rude.
How old is Brent again?
Yeah, older than me.
The more I think about the situation, the more outraged I become. Am I supposed to be dating Devon?
I just met him.
Brent can accuse me of cheating on him, and it's alright?
Are we exclusive?
"I think you--" I stop.
Brent grabs his phone from the table next to him, looking at it.
I think about Carpinteria.
Two can play this game.