Page 10 of Kiss Marry Kill
“But you promised.” She mentally cringed at the slight whine in her voice. She shouldn’t have to beg her boyfriend to be present at the game with her.
“I promised I’d come with you, and here I am. You know how important making partner is for me. Not all of us have parents to pull strings for us.”
This wasn’t the first time he’d thrown that in her face. Sitting back down in a huff, Megan turned her attention to the game.
“Oh my god! Did you see that home run?” She asked a few minutes later, tugging on his shirt.
“Yeah, yeah.” But he was looking down at his phone and pulling his arm away from her grip. She glared at him, even if he wasn’t looking back at her. Sometimes she couldn’t help but wonder why they were together.
Richard was tall, lean, with ink-black hair meticulously brushed in a side part and a beautiful clean-shaven face that showcased his impressive cheekbones and strong jaw. But he looked so out of place at the ballpark, with his jeans and polo shirt, looking like he wished he was wearing a suit. Megan, on the other hand, was a T-shirt and jeans kind of girl, to her mother’s dismay. She wasn’t normally the life of the party, preferring to hang back and listen instead. But Richard was the kind of man that took control of a room by his mere presence. Women unabashedly stared at him and men kissed his ass wanting to befriend him. Even here at the ball game she saw the flirty glances from the women they’d walked past. Megan routinely felt pushed aside and forgotten. But when he was present, really present, he was the embodiment of a perfect boyfriend: sweet and attentive. Lately, however, those moments were few and far between. Sometimes she felt like a wallflower and she was coming to understand that maybe she’d been made to feel that way by being constantly pushed aside by her parents and by Richard. But maybe she didn’t want to be a wallflower. She loathed that she craved his affection so profoundly—the little morsels he threw her way, she’d store and relish and feel grateful for. And that made her unhappy with herself. Somewhere deep inside, she knew she was stronger than that.
The realization hit her hard and fast. She was young, successful, and attractive. She shouldn’t have to plead for him to be with her. Richard wasn’t better than her. No, she was too damn good for him.
Feeling annoyed and suddenly determined, she stood up. “I’m going to grab a drink.”
“I’m good,” he said without bothering to look up or even notice that she didn’t offer to get him anything.
Balancing nachos, popcorn, and a soda, Megan awkwardly made her way back to her seat, deciding she was going to enjoy the day even if she had to do so alone. The poor guy in the seat next to her shifted his legs to the side to give her room as she sat back down and began to stuff popcorn in her mouth. Funny how she had more physical contact with that guy, whose leg bobbed up and down, brushing along her own, then she did with her own boyfriend.
When the guy stood up to cheer, Megan glanced up at him. He was also tall and lean, but unlike Richard, this guy had an all-American look to him with his blondish shaggy hair, jeans, and sweet smile. Where Richard was handsome in a “spends a lot of time in front of the mirror styling his hair” sort of way, the guy next to her looked like he woke up, threw on an old pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and headed out. He looked perfectly comfortable in his casual clothes. Catching herself staring at the way his jeans hugged his impressive thighs, she quickly looked down at her popcorn. She found herself wondering why he was there alone.
It was a close game and everyone cheered and hollered—everyone except Richard, which was making it harder for her to keep to her resolve to have a good day. Right now, she was this close to pouring the entire untouched cup of beer on his head. He’d bought her beer earlier, which was probably the moment her anger began. She didn’t like beer. How did he not know this? Did he know her at all?
“Oh my god! Look!” She pulled on Richard’s arm and pointed up to the screen. “We’re on the jumbotron! You have to kiss me. It’s the kiss cam, Richard!”
She leaned over but he swatted her away and the crowd booed.
“Richard!” she yelled again, again pointing to the screen, hating herself for having to beg.
When he continued to ignore her, she hunched over and looked around, embarrassed. Once the camera was off them she leaned closer and asked, “Why did you bother coming if you weren’t even going to watch?” Normally, she was quiet and reserved and internalized her emotions because Cruzes didn’t show emotions. But right now she wasn’t sad. She was pissed.
“I did it for you because you kept saying you wanted to come. I hate baseball. You know that.”
“Actually I did not know that.” What else didn’t she know about him? He didn’t know she hated beer and she didn’t know he hated baseball. A day at the ballpark seemed silly now, what they needed was freakin’ counseling!
Her parents had been putting pressure on them to marry and Richard seemed completely on board with the plan, although he hadn’t proposed. These days, they barely saw each other. She was sick of it. She understood he had goals, but she wanted to be important in his life. How delusional had she been in thinking maybe they could have fun today, re-spark their relationship before their lives started to get even more hectic. But instead of connected, she felt even more distant.
How many times had she watched some boring political documentary because he wanted to watch it? She’d done it for him without a peep, and the man couldn’t be bothered to at least pretend he wanted to be here.
She sat with her arms crossed over her chest, the game effectively ruined by his sour mood. The bobbing leg of the guy on her left was getting annoying, too. Even though he smelled wonderful—some sort of manly cologne she’d never smelled before. A scent very different from Richard’s exorbitantly priced Dior Sauvage that he liked to douse himself with whenever he left his house. Lately she had been feeling things change between them. It was an overwhelming sense of loneliness that she couldn’t shake off. She felt silly and guilty for feeling this way with a boyfriend at her side, so she’d shut the emotion off, ignoring it and trying to make the best of things. But even sitting there with him, it was as if she was alone.
When everyone began to cheer, she forced herself to look up at the jumbotron again. “Richard! Look!” She pointed up, wiping the scowl off her face, suddenly desperate to prove to herself and the world that there was some spark in their relationship, some romance. “It’s the kiss cam again. Come on, please, it’ll take two seconds.”
Again he brushed her off, and she fought back tears.
What an asshole!
People were whispering and pointing all around the stadium. She groaned to herself, Oh, God, my humiliation is being televised for the entire nation to witness.
She slid lower in her chair and tilted the bill of her cap down. It was a harsh reality to face in front of thousands of people, but one that struck her hard and fast like a bucket of cold water.
This was the end.
Richard was not only a selfish bastard, he was a selfish bastard who didn’t want her. But the real sobering surprise was that she didn’t even care because she didn’t want him either.
* * *
For the second time, the asshole rejected her.
