CHAPTER 4: Running Late

This day was supposed to be perfect.

I was supposed to wake up, hit the gym, maybe grab a coffee, and then, the best part—meet up with Anonymous69. In the flesh. Finally.

Instead, here I was, standing outside my apartment, staring down at a sniveling mess of a person I really didn’t have time for.

"Please," he begged, voice cracking like a cheap phone screen. "I swear it didn’t mean anything!"

I groaned, dragging a hand through my hair. "Why today of all fucking days?"

Like, seriously. I hadn’t heard from him in months, and now, the second I had somewhere to be, he decided to pop up like a goddamn fungus?

He clutched my wrist, looking up at me with wide, tear-filled eyes. "I miss you. I swear I’ll do anything, just—just give me another chance. I’ll make it up to you."

I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply through my nose. My patience was hanging by a fucking thread.

I pried his fingers off me one by one, shaking my head. "Listen, dipshit." My voice was sharp, cutting through his pathetic little sobs. "I was never with you in the first place, okay? You were a fling. That’s all. A distraction. You wanna know what actually pissed me off? Not the fact that you got your ass fucked behind my back, but the lies. I don’t like liars. Never have."

He flinched, lower lip trembling. "But I—"

"No." I took a step back, making sure there was zero room for negotiation. "Go cry to someone who gives a shit."

His face twisted into something ugly. "You’re such an asshole!"

I snorted. "Yeah? And yet you’re still here, begging."

That shut him up.

With one last glare, I turned and walked away, my blood still boiling. Fucking ridiculous.

I checked my phone as I headed toward my car.

Anonymous69: Almost ready?

My irritation vanished instantly.

Me: Yeah. Be there soon.

I yanked the car door open and slid into the driver’s seat, still shaking off the annoyance clinging to me.

Fucking unbelievable. Of all the goddamn days for my ex to show up, he picked this one? The day I was finally meeting Anonymous69? It was like the universe was personally trying to piss me off.

I shoved my key into the ignition and turned it.

Click.

I frowned.

Turned the key again.

Click-click.

What the fuck?

I tried a third time, gripping the wheel as the engine made a pathetic choking noise before dying completely.

I blinked at the dashboard, as if staring at it hard enough would somehow make the car magically fucking work. "Oh, come on."

I twisted the key again, this time jamming my foot on the gas, praying to whatever higher power existed that the piece of shit would turn over.

It didn’t.

"You’ve got to be fucking kidding me," I muttered, slamming my head back against the seat.

Of course. Of fucking course.

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. "Okay," I told myself, "don’t lose your shit. There’s a logical explanation for this. Maybe the battery’s dead. Maybe—"

I tried one last time.

The car remained as dead as my patience.

"FUCK!"

I smacked the steering wheel, gripping it like I was about to rip it off. "Why today?! Of all fucking days, why today?"

I popped the hood and got out, trying to remember all the useless car shit my dad had told me years ago.

I had a feeling this was going to be a long fucking morning.

After trying fucking this and trying batshit that, I wiped sweats off my forehead with the back of my hand, stepping away from the open hood of my car.

The fucking thing was finally working again.

I don’t know whether it was the random wires I jiggled, the curses I threw at it, or sheer dumb luck, but after nearly half an hour of messing with it, the engine finally sputtered to life.

I slammed the hood shut, breathing out a sigh of relief.

Now I could finally get the hell out of here.

I slid into the driver’s seat, adjusted my mirrors, and checked my phone real quick.

No new message.

I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat, threw the car into reverse, and sped out of my apartment complex like I was in a Fast & Furious movie.

Nothing was going to stop me now.

Or so I thought.

Because the moment I hit the main road…

Traffic.

Fucking. Traffic.

I slammed my hand against the steering wheel, groaning so loud I probably scared the driver in the car next to me. "You’ve got to be shitting me."

A sea of unmoving cars stretched out in front of me, brake lights glowing in the early afternoon sun. Honking filled the air, people yelling out their windows, all of us collectively suffering in this bullshit.

I thumped my head against the headrest, staring up at the ceiling of my car like it had the answers to my miserable existence.

This was the universe punishing me, I knew it. First, my ex shows up to beg for a second chance. Then my car refuses to start. And now? Now I was stuck in this.

All I wanted was to get to the goddamn hotel and meet the one person who actually made life interesting. But no. Instead, I was here, crawling forward at a pace so slow I could’ve walked faster.

My fingers tapped impatiently against the steering wheel as I glanced at the time.

I was already running late.