Page 129 of Dissolving Prejudice

“I. Don’t. Care. Psycho.”

His jaw twitched, but he looked more annoyed than angry.

“You’re not actually scared I’ll hurt you, are you?” He frowned, and when I kept a straight face, he held both hands in front of him. “For God’s sake, Shay-Lee. I just want to talk. I swear that’s all.”

“Why?” I barked.

“Jeez, I don’t know.” He looked around before going back to me. “Maybe ’cause we’ve been together for two years, and breaking up sucks?”

My eyes locked with his, and even though he didn’t seem intimidating and more like his usual pathetic self, I still had no intention of having a conversation with him. “I will never go back to you.”

Looking at the ground, he huffed. “You think I don’t know that?”

His voice was so sad it almost made me pity him. Almost.

“You think I don’t know I never had a chance to begin with?” He kicked some dirt with his shoe, then raised his head up.

Seeing the clear acceptance on his face was… hard.

“I just wanted to know if we can still be friends?”

“Friends?” My brows pulled close as I recalled a conversation I’d had with Camilo not long after Jordan and I broke up. “Aren’t friends supposed to trust each other?” I challenged him with a raised chin as his confusion grew. “Camilo told me about what you said to him. About how you doubt my dad ever abused me, Jordan. It was one thing to throw a bottle at my face, but finding out you’ve been with me for two years, only to think I lied the whole time?”

His mouth opened and closed several times before he squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed hard. “I should have never said that, but that night—fuck. I don’t think that way. I swear.” He then bit on his bottom lip and shook his head. “If you’d just let me apologize… I’ll be able to explain.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t care about your apology.”

Ignoring the pain on his face, I began walking back to my car. When I reached it, I placed the bags on the hood before pulling out my keys.

“Please, Shay-Lee. There are things I need to tell you, things that weigh on my conscience.”

“Sucks for you, then.” I huffed, opened the door, put in my bags, and sat in the driver’s seat, ready to close the door, when Jordan stopped me by putting his hand on it.

“Please.” His voice was on the verge of breaking.

Furious, I glanced at his hands that clenched to my car before moving my attention to his stressed face.

“If you don’t remove your hand, I promise to break your fingers. And knowing me, you know I’m not joking.”

With his jaw clenched and his lips pressed close, he held my stare for a moment longer before he stepped back. The second he was far enough, I closed the damn door and drove from there.

The whole ride to the studio, Jordan’s words continued to bother me.

There are things I need to tell you, things that weigh on my conscience.

What kind of things? The fact that I was curious about what he had to say pissed me the fuck off. But then again, maybe I was being too harsh on him? After all, I was the one who’d cheated. But he was violent, too. I reminded myself of that small fact only so I wouldn’t feel so damn guilty.

He wanted to be friends, which was fucking impossible. First of all, exes could never ever be just friends. Whoever came up with that lie was a lying asshole who was either delusional or a cheater. Second, Camilo would never agree to it. He hated Jordan and had warned me about him more than once.

These annoying thoughts kept stressing me, making my head heavy, until I reached the studio. Thankfully, the second I looked inside the room through the small window at the door to see Camilo dancing, all that background noise faded away. Standing in the hall, takeout bags in my hands, I stepped closer to the door until my nose was nearly smeared against the glass and watched in awe at how he moved his body. I couldn’t hear the music, as the studio was soundproof, but I didn’t need to hear it in order to know the rhythm. Camilo’s body just spoke the music with each move. The other dancers surrounded him while he stood in the center, probably teaching them the choreography. He just did this spin that ended with him dropping to the floor and doing some intense breakdancing before he rose back to his feet and turned to face the other dancers. My heart missed a beat just from seeing this little, and excited, I walked inside the studio.

The second I entered the room, all eyes were on me, and I immediately held the food bags high.

“I brought lunch.”

Mia and Beau, two of the dancers/models, took the bags from me, and finally, my hands were free to greet my perfect man.

“Hey, Llorón,” he whispered as he came to hug me, and my eyes darted to his shirtless bod.