“Hey, babe! You missed out on an awesome class today. I hope you’re feeling better.”
My voice echoed through my seemingly empty apartment. Odd. I kicked the front door shut while hauling my gym bag, gear and bags filled with groceries into my apartment. The idea was to help my boyfriend feel better and it involved whipped cream, chocolate sauce and a few other delectable treats, if you get my drift.
I dumped my gear and bag near the laundry door, the clipping of my heels sounded on the wooden flooring. I heaved the grocery bags onto the stone countertop and my keys made a metallic clang when they connected with the solid surface. Hmming a tune quietly while I packed away a few of the groceries that needed refrigerating, doors swung shut and my body moved to the soundtrack that played in my mind.
Today was a good day. My students were doing really well picking up the steps of the different dance styles I was teaching, and a few couples had even approached me to ask about the amateur competitions that were coming up soon. The rare feeling of pride swelled in my chest. I never considered myself much of a teacher, but I was really enjoying teaching at the small studio I was employed at. Now, it was time to end the day on a really good note and find that boyfriend of mine.
“Baby, are you here?” I called out again with no response.
I left the desired items out on the counter and ambled through the apartment I shared with my longtime boyfriend and dance partner, Oliver. I peered into different rooms wondering where he could be. The living area was obviously empty, I could see that from the kitchen but so were the spare rooms, including the room we made into a make-shift office. I made my way to our bedroom at the end of the hall, slipping my heels from my feet and letting them dangle from my fingers, he was probably resting in bed. I hoped he was feeling well enough for what I had planned, the less than innocent thoughts flitting through my mind had me biting my lip in anticipation.
I noticed our bedroom door was slightly ajar, the afternoon sun filtered through the small gap and casted a streak of light on the charcoal wall that I hung a decorative mirror art piece on. The light fragmented as it hit the different angles of the piece of art, and the effect created small spots of rainbows dancing on the other walls, ceiling and floor. Before I could push the door open though, faint noises halted any further movements from me. I didn't have to strain my hearing very much, and even though the thundering sound of my pulse pounded in my ears, I could hear the quiet, but very familiar sounds of moaning and creaking coming from the room.
What the fuck?!
As quietly as I could I pushed the door open and a head of long, dead straight, bleach blonde hair greeted me. I was frozen like a statue, I couldn't even tear my eyes away from the spectacle in front of me. My gaze wandered over the pale back that faced me, right down to the plump ass that was being tightly gripped by two very familiar hands. They were still completely unaware of the audience they had, and as their pace picked up speed and the moans got louder, I decided that then was a perfect time to alert them of my presence. There was no way I was going to let either of them finish.
I tried my best to keep my rage in check, but Lord knows it was beyond difficult not to start throwing shit from the get-go. I brought my hand up, still clutching my heels tightly, and connected it with my bedroom door. A loud bang that couldn't be ignored, bounced off the walls and the room fell silent, all sounds of intimacy evaporated into thin air. The pair jolted in surprise and Ollie sat upright, his arm gripping his bedfellow around her waist as they both came to a complete stop.
“Sorry. Am I interrupting something?” I cleared my throat to make sure they heard me. I crossed my arms over my chest, letting my heels land with a padded thump on the soft carpet. His eyes connected with mine as he peered over her shoulder, shock registering on his face as if he couldn't believe that I was actually there.
I stood like a fortress in the middle of the doorway and watched with simmering rage and amusement as my piece of shit ex-boyfriend scrambled out from underneath the blonde, almost pushing her off the bed in his rush to get up. And then, the amusement disappeared, and the rage went from simmering to erupting as I recognised the blonde bimbo. Samantha-fucking-Denvers!
Puta! [Bitch!] What. The. Actual. Fuck!
“Stella, baby. Wait, it’s not what it looks like,” Oliver let the words rush from his mouth, trying his best to placate the situation.
I couldn't help but laugh in his face. It was like I was stuck in some crappy rom-com, it was almost hilarious. Almost. He must've noticed the change in my expression as I looked from a smug looking Samantha and then back to him, because I saw him pale ever so slightly. He was lucky I wasn't particularly violent, though I was tempted to throw all of my Gran's opinions on anger management out of our four-story window, along with a certain naked someone and his whore.
“You’re dick’s still wet Oliver. So do try your fucking best to explain to me what it actually is.” The guilty pair stared at me and then at each other, obviously, they hadn’t ironed out what would happen if either of them got caught in the act and what their explanations would be. My foot started tapping on the floor, my tell, and Oliver knew shit was about to go down.
Hispanic people are known for their fiery passion and strong wills and you wouldn't guess that I was only part-Hispanic from the way I was once I got angry. Something I kept tight reins on because, as Gran says, it’s not becoming of a young lady to be screaming at the top of her lungs and breaking things in a mad fit. Even in this situation, Gran wouldn’t give me a free-pass, but you had better believe I didn’t care in that moment. Gran's debutante etiquette was the farthest thing from my mind right now. Double homicide was a lot closer, and what I needed to do to get it done and avoid jail time.
“I - I..." Oliver stumbled over his words, completely lost for something to say to me, and I really just wanted to slap him. I couldn't believe I used to think it was cute how he would sometimes get tongue tied, remembering just how well he knew how to tie a knot in a cherry stem, if you get my meaning. Glancing at his horizontal dance partner I gathered he probably got a lot of practice. Gross.
“I really don’t even want to hear it Oliver," I held my hand up to halt him tripping over his tongue, "and I really don’t want to know how long this has been going on for, because I doubt either of you will leave this apartment alive if I find out.” I gave him a menacing glare and I could actually see him gulp. Good, he should've been scared.
I turned my gaze to Samantha. She's actually our rival, competing against us, with her partner Fernando in several different competitions within the state of California. She was particularly sour when they came in second to Oliver and I last year in the Grand Ballroom State Finals. Unfortunately, she was an amazing dancer, absolutely beautiful and a total bitch. The smug look on her face showed that she knew it too and she was more than happy with what was happening. I couldn't help but think that she was getting some kind of payback. Puta!
Oliver was still standing unashamedly naked, trying to grasp what was going on. I knew he wasn’t the most intelligent guy around but I didn’t think he was that dumb. I couldn't help but think that I dodged a bullet, suddenly more relieved than anything else in that moment.
I reined in my Latina alter ego and managed a calm façade. If there was one thing I learnt from my Gran, it's that there was nothing more terrifying than a dead calm demeanor from someone that is beyond furious. That kind of fury is unpredictable.
“I’ll give you ten minutes to pack up whatever shit of yours you can, and get the fuck out of my apartment. Whatever gets left behind, you’ll find the ashes sent to you gift-wrapped. Countdown starts now." I turned on my heels but paused before getting too far away. "Oh, and be sure to leave behind everything I paid for.”
I could faintly hear Oliver and Samantha talking and rushing around as I made my way back to the kitchen, the cool hardwood floors sent a small shiver from my feet and up my spine. Reaching the liquor cabinet, I yanked open the doors and grabbed one of the crystal glasses my grandfather gave me and then tiptoed for one of the unopened bottles of vodka on the top shelf.
The glass and bottle clinked when they connected briefly, while the liquid pouring into its vessel distracted me from what was going on down the hallway. I tipped back the drink and felt the burn as it flowed down my throat. I suddenly felt warm, now not just from the anger and betrayal I was feeling. I poured myself another but this time decided to dilute it a little with some cranberry juice. I'm not a big drinker, so I needed to make sure I didn't go too hard too soon, or at least not while Oliver and his slut were still in my apartment.
I sipped on my delicious beverage and took a seat on my forest green velvet sofa. I crossed my right leg over my left and bounced it ever so gently, while my fingers of one hand tapped a steady rhythm on the arm of the chair. I kept my expression neutral and unfazed and I'm sure I looked like a boss right then, or I hoped I did.
The first to appear from the hallway was Samantha. I eyed the blonde bitch and despite being caught slutting herself around with someone else’s boyfriend, and in their apartment no less, she carried an air of confidence and elegance that would've had my Gran impressed. I clenched my jaw and dug my nails into the sofa, silently wishing it were her skin.
“Estelle.” She gave me a sickeningly sweet smirk as she slipped through the front door, I would say never to be seen again, but I knew I wasn't that lucky. Oliver followed not long after, rushing down the hallway, his arms overloaded with bags. I smirked and rolled my eyes as he got stuck in the doorway, his bags catching and a laugh escaped me as he stumbled into the living room, falling on top of his things.
His messy blonde hair was sticking up in all directions, both from his bout of passion and the physical exertion as he scampered around the apartment grabbing his belongings. As much as I wanted to castrate him right then, he was still startlingly handsome and I wanted to slap him for being so damn good looking.
“Tick tock. Tick tock.” I took a long drag from my glass, forgetting that I was meant to be taking it slow on the alcohol until I was alone at least.
“Stella, please. Don’t do this.” He settled his bags on the floor, the zips overflowing and jammed with different items of clothing. I had wondered if he was going to try and beg. I looked him up and down. His shirt was buttoned up unevenly in the rush and his pants hung loose and crumpled on his hips, while his feet remained bare.
“Do what, Oliver?” I cocked my head to the side, irritation radiating off me.
“Let me go. I know you love me, and you know I love you too. It was a mistake. It’ll never happen again, I swear. She means nothing to me.” His baby blue eyes pleaded with me but it had the opposite effect he was hoping for. I wanted nothing more than to throttle him, not let him crawl back into the bed I was now going to have to burn.
“You are so full of shit,” I scoffed in his face, standing toe to toe with him. I jabbed a manicured nail into his chest, my glass of vodka still clutched in my hand and I could feel my temperature rising as the rage fueled me. “You have the audacity to stand here and tell me she means nothing to you, after clearly she means enough for you to invite her to our apartment and stick your dick in her. And I’d love to believe this is the first time it’s happened, but you know I’m not stupid Oliver. So, you can shove whatever you want to say up that stuck up, snobby ass of yours and get the fuck out.” I emptied the rest of my glass in his face, hoping it stung like hell.
Satisfaction bubbled in my chest as he wiped the alcohol from his eyes, his shirt now stained pink and clinging to his unfortunately sculpted torso. I tried my best not to let my eyes linger on his body, I wasn't supposed to be checking him out right then, so I let the sexual frustration I had pent up fuel my anger further.
I pushed past him after setting my glass down. I needed a shower. I opted out of having one after my class, wanting instead to get home as quickly as I could to give my now ex-boyfriend a bit of TLC, and as much as I hated what I saw, I was super glad that I wasn’t a moment later.
"Stella...please. You’ll regret this,” he was still pleading with me, putting a fake apologetic look on his face. It wasn’t a threat, simply a narcissistic statement and making my way to my en-suite, I decided to give him a show, reminding him exactly what he chose to give up once he invited someone else into our bed. He didn’t realise I wasn’t going to be the one regretting anything.
I peeled my tank top from my body and discarded it before removing my tights, leaving my clothes scattered along the hallway and me only in my underwear. I turned towards him once I stepped into my bedroom and pulled my hair from the tight bun atop my head. My light brown waves cascaded down my body and settled against my waist, I was giving him a full look at what he was going to be missing out on, and the idiot actually tried to follow me, probably thinking I changed my mind in the short time it took me to get from lounge to bedroom. Like, literally three seconds.
I mentally smacked myself for letting his over-inflated ego go unchecked for so long, but I let him think he had a chance to win me over. He stepped up to me, only a few inches away standing on the other side of the doorway. He kept his eyes locked on mine. I took in his very handsome features one last time. Was I so blind to everything? Well, obviously I was.
“I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me." A smirk danced on his lips and I could literally hear it in the tone of his voice. You see, during this whole ordeal it didn't escape my notice that out of all the crap he was spewing, he hadn’t once said he was sorry. Not like it would’ve made a difference, but it was all the more infuriating that he was trying to weasel his way back in, thinking he had a chance.
Biting back the retort I had building in my throat, I took his keys from his hand and remove the key to the apartment from his key ring. He leaned in even closer, trying to be all seductive and sexy, and damn, if I wasn’t so fucking pissed with him, and if I hadn’t just caught him cheating on me, then that might’ve worked. I slammed my hand on his chest, pushing the keys into his chiseled pecs and shoving him away from me with a murderous glare set on my face.
“Time’s up. Get the fuck out." I stepped back and before I slammed the door, I saw the complete look of shock and disbelief on his face, making it all the more satisfying. A loud thud resonated on the other side of the door, followed by a yelp of pain and a string of expletives.
“Fuck, my nose! You crazy bitch!”
It seemed someone was standing a bit too close, and I only wished it was a different part of the body, a much lower part of the body, that got hit instead, but I’d take it either way. A wicked grin played on my lips and I waited until I heard the front door slam before I made my way to the bathroom. I let out a loud sigh and finally allowed myself to feel the pain, and not just the anger from today’s events.
“Screw a shower. I need a bubble bath and more vodka.”