Page 5 of The Way I Hate Him
Excuse me, sir!
We don’t stiff-arm each other.
I swat for him to pull me in closer, but he braces his arm, not allowing me an inch closer.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.
“Hattie, we have to talk.”
I straighten up so he’s no longer palming my head. “Why does that sound like you’re going to break up with me?”
He sighs heavily. “Maybe you should come in.”
“Matt,” I say, confused. “Are you breaking up with me?”
“Unless you want the entire town to hear this, you might want to come inside.”
Lips pursed together, my heart hammering in my chest, I reluctantly follow him inside. After we walk up the back steps to his second-floor apartment and enter his living room, he turns toward me.
“I’ve waited to tell you this long enough.” He pauses for dramatic effect—because that’s the kind of man he is. “I don’t want to be with you anymore.”
Well . . . God, that’s a harsh way of putting it.
Couldn’t he have sugarcoated it a bit?
And where is this coming from? Last I checked, we were . . . content. Sure, we haven’t seen each other in a long time—he’s been on tour, and I’ve been in school—but we’ve made long distance work.
“Is this because I live in San Francisco? I . . . I only have one semester left. I mean, I might have to do an extra one because of this last semester, but—”
“It’s because I don’t like you anymore.”
Well, Jesus.
“You . . . you don’t like me?” I ask, confused and caught off guard. Where’s the consideration for my feelings?
He shakes his head. “No, I don’t. I haven’t found you entertaining for the past couple of months.”
Uh . . . what’s that?
Did he just say entertaining? Pardon me, but I wasn’t aware that was part of my responsibilities as a girlfriend.
“Entertaining?” I ask in a low, steady voice. My hurt quickly subsides as anger rears its ugly head. “Oh, I wasn’t aware that, as your girlfriend, my main duty was to entertain you.”
“Don’t do this,” Matt says with an irritated sigh as he turns away.
“Do what?” I ask, tugging on his hand so he’s forced to face me.
“Be dramatic about this. Okay? Let’s be mature adults.”
“Mature adults? Matt, you’re breaking up with me because I haven’t entertained you enough. That’s not being a mature adult. That’s being a fuck wad who expects his girlfriend to dance like a monkey when he demands it.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Then what exactly did you mean?”
“You’ve just been . . . lackluster. Mopey. And it hasn’t been fun to be around you. Or on the phone with you.”
My eyes nearly pop out of my head. Mopey? Is he fucking kidding me?
