World's Worst Boyfriend: A Romantic Comedy Adventure (Fake It Book 3) by Carina Taylor (books to get back into reading .TXT) 📕

I sat in my car outside the Thai restaurant, planning to wait just a few minutes to see if he would answer because obviously him and text messages didn’t mix. We hadn’t spoken much over the past few days, so I was more than a little surprised when he texted me back right away.

Fletcher: I’d love to see you. I stopped by your house an hour ago, but you weren’t there. I’m at home finishing up a work project if you want to come over here.

Me: See you in a few.

When I pulled up to the small duplex that Fletcher rented, I parked behind his car and walked up the sidewalk. I knocked on the paint-chipped door.

Surprisingly, he answered the door right away. He pulled me inside, planted a quick kiss on my lips—I didn’t even have time to respond to the kiss or attempt to dodge it—then hurried back to his laptop that sat on the kitchen table.

“Sorry, sweetie, I’m in the middle of something and need to finish it up real quick.” He flashed a quick grin, then turned his attention back to his laptop.

One hour later, I’d watched every microblading gone wrong video I could find, and Fletcher was finally done with his work. I also had time to cancel my upcoming microblading appointment after watching those videos, thank you very much. I’d be sticking with my happy little eyebrow pencil from now on. The scar on my eyebrow from when I’d been bit by a dog at six years old was large enough that it left a bald spot if I didn’t fill it in.

Fletcher came and sat on the couch next to me, stretching an arm out behind me. I leaned forward slightly, away from his touch. “Fletcher.”

“Hmm?” He began running his hands through my hair, massaging my scalp. I didn’t move away this time like I should have. I loved when he did this, and I deserved this much from him, at least.

I closed my eyes as his hand moved down to massage my neck. He worked on a particularly sore spot, and I felt the tingling all the way down my spine.

“You’re really tense tonight, is something wrong?”

“Yeah,” I replied, but I couldn’t seem to remember what. We sat next to each other silently for a few minutes while his fingers continued to work their magic.

“So, I know we were planning on getting away to the beach sometime this month,” he started. “But what if we waited until the fall? You know, the weather is so much nicer then. Besides, my work is a little busy right now.”

His phone chimed and he stopped rubbing my neck to answer it.

Icy reality came crashing down around me all over again. No matter how many times he rubbed my neck, it wouldn’t change the fact that I wasn’t a priority in his life. He continually chose work over me. Every. Single. Time.

He chose his phone over me.

He chose his sleep over me.

I was in the dreaded fourth place that the Bee Best podcast had talked about.

Well, not anymore.

“Fletcher, I’m not going to the beach with you.” The words practically scratched my throat on the way out.

“Oh, did something come up for you too?” he asked absentmindedly as he frantically typed away on his phone. It was then that I noticed that he tilted it away from me, as though he were afraid I’d read the screen.

“No. I said I’m not going to the beach with you.”

That caught his attention. He set the phone on his thigh and angled his body toward me. “Okay, I know last time I dropped you in the water. I’m sorry. I won’t do that again.”

“It’s not that. That was actually one of my favorite days I spent with you.”

“Then what is it?” He shrugged his shoulders. His eyes kept darting to the phone laying face down on his lap.

“I’m breaking up with you.”

His phone slid off his lap and fell to the floor with a thump as he turned toward me so quickly. “What?”

I whispered, “I’m pretty sure you heard me.”

“No! Why? Whatever it is, we can work through it!”

I shook my head. “I don’t think we can.”

“What is it? Why?”

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to sit still, even though I wanted to run from the room. I hated confrontation, and this was it at its worst. “You don’t value me. You don’t care about me the way I do about you. We are just in two different places in our lives, and I’m not sure that we’ll ever be in sync.”

He grabbed his phone off the ground and slammed it down on the coffee table. “Is this about dinner the other night?”

“Partly. That was just the final straw.”

“I can explain about that!” he exclaimed.

I flattened my palms against my jeans to keep from fidgeting. My heart beat rapidly as I tried to stop the pounding in my ears. “All right. Then please explain.”

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

My left thumb started tapping. “I’m waiting.”

“I-I-I can’t tell you now, but I’ll explain everything soon. I promise.”

I stopped tapping. “That’s great, Fletcher. I hope you can explain everything to yourself when I’m gone because that’s the only option right now.”

I stood up, picked up my phone and purse, then turned to go.

He stood there staring down at me. “No, we can’t be done. Why? I need at least one good reason why.”

“You’re literally the world’s worst boyfriend and I’ve put up with it as long as I can.” I tucked my phone into the side pocket of my purse.

“What did I do?”

I ticked off numbers with my fingers. “You ignore me, stand me up on dates, expect me to take care of everything for you, but then you’re never there for me when I need you!”

“That’s not true!” He took a step closer and I stepped back. I was always a terrible fighter once he got his hands