"I think you and I... need a break. It's just... not working out anymore."
An unintended sigh escapes my lips as I look into Brandon's eyes. He slightly flinches from my unimpressed expression.
It's bad enough he does this on my birthday, in my own apartment, after I caught him cheating with one of my best friends. He has the nerve to look me in the eyes and make it seem like we suddenly just fell out of love.
"Okay,"
I say, no longer interested in anything he has to say.
"That's it?!"
He whines.
"Yeah. Now get the fuck out of my house."
He looks genuinely heartbroken, but as he stares into my eyes, he sees none of the compassion he expected.
He clicks his tongue in annoyance.
"Stop acting like a bitch, Layla. I only fucked her once, and she seduced me. I don't see you being mad at her, but because I'm the guy, it's my fault, isn't that right?"
I take a deep breath and immediately go to my room. I take out a box from under the bed and a key from my drawer, and open it. Inside is a Walther PDP F-Series. It's perfect.
I walk out of the room, already making sure the safety is on. I point the gun at the fucker.
"What the fuck, Layla?!"
I roll my eyes in a dramatic measure, cock the gun—unnecessary, but needed to make my point. I point it back at Brandon.
"I told you to get the fuck out. You didn't listen. Now you're going to fucking pay."
As I say this, his hands are already raised in the air, his pants wet, expression ugly with fear. I smile mockingly and pull the trigger.
Of course, the trigger doesn't move and nothing happens. But with my threat comes a deafening silence, as Brandon falls on the hardwood floor on his butt.
Sweat pours over his face, eyes wide with fear. I take a measure of joy seeing him like this, it's almost cathartic in some way.
"Oh, it seems the safety was on. Let me fix that."
As I go to pretend to turn off the safety mode, he's already up and running out of my apartment like the pussy he is. I don't know what I saw in him.
I don't know what I see in any of these men I keep dating. They're all the same.
I close the door—the idiot left it open—then go to the kitchen and take out a bucket of ice cream from the fridge. I walk into the living room, settle nicely on the couch, and watch my all-time favorite horror films in order as I cry, laugh, and scream at the TV while eating my ice cream.
•••
I groggily wake up to the sound of banging on my door.
"When did I fall asleep?"
I wonder, as I stretch my limbs and walk to the door. Using the peephole, I peek to see who it is and to my pleasant surprise, it's Sarah, dressed like a goth.
I open the door, which I left stupidly unlocked.
"Took you long enough. What were you doing anyway? Do you know how long I've been banging at the door? Too long. That's the right answer."
"It's not my fault you didn't text that you were coming,"
I reply, closing the door.
She turns around and looks at me, shrugging her shoulders in that awkward way she does when she's about to say something uncomfortable.
"Yeah well, I wasn't planning to... until I heard from Kate you caught her and that two-timing bastard on your bed doing the nasty. After that, I punched her and came straight here to see if you were fine. Are you okay?"
She punched Kate? Wasn't she her best friend before being mine?
A swell of warmth spreads through me, and an unconscious smile tugs at my lips.
"Y-you punched Kate... for me?"
I ask, a little emotional.
Sarah walks up to me, a sigh escaping her lips as she pulls me into a tight embrace.
"Of course I did. You know I love you more than anyone in this world. Kate might have been my friend first, but you, Layla Cuddlebun Thorn, are my soulmate. It will always be me and you against the world."
We both instantly laugh at the silly middle name she just gave me. I tighten my embrace, and we stay like that for a while. We let each other go when it starts becoming weird.
"Tell me, where did you come from, looking like you just came from a Wednesday Addams audition?"
I tease her as we make our way to the living room. Sarah is a beautiful woman—extremely pale and in her rebellious phase after moving out of her parents' house.
At the moment, in her quiet defiance, she stands slim, pale, and draped in layers of black. Her jet-black hair falls in sharp bangs streaked with deep violet.
Dark eyeliner frames her warm, piercing gray eyes, while a matte lipstick stains her lips in a midnight shade.
She's wearing a choker, rings on every finger, and a lace corset paired with ripped tights and platform boots.
There's elegance in her gloom, like a shadow dressed for a funeral she secretly enjoys.
Sarah rolls her eyes.
"Ha ha, very funny. Got any more jokes left?"
"Just one. Did the coven accept you as one of their own? Was Count Dracula impressed with your attire? Did the sun not sting? Is this the brooding phase of rebelling? Did—"
"Okay, that's enough. You made your point,"
Sarah says with a pout.
I chuckle as I lay my head on her lap and look up at her from underneath. She looks down at me with a thoughtful gaze.
"What are you thinking about?"
I ask.
"I'm wondering if you're ready."
I raise my eyebrows with faint interest.
"Ready for the Girlfriend Experiment."
Now my interest is truly piqued.
"What's that?"
"It's an online dating app for women who are through with men and are ready to experiment with people of the same playing field."
"You mean..."
"Yes. I mean exactly that. So, Layla—are you ready to taste something... different?"
My mind begins to spin. Not once had I ever thought about... that.
It wasn't about whether I was ready to jump into another relationship after the last one ended. The real question was whether I could actually date someone of the same gender.