❝Girl, I refuse
You must have me confused with some other guy
The bridges were burned
Now it's your turn, to cry❞

I was six years old when Hannah Montana shoved me into a janitor's closet and stole my lunch from me.

Of course, that wasn't her real name. Or identity. Just the one I'd given that pig-faced bully girl who'd made my elementary school experience a living nightmare.

And now, it would seem the universe had sent me Hannah Montana 2.0.

Well, I was going to Miley Cyrus this bitch.

Or something to that effect.

I'd just about managed to make it in the nick of time as the cashier was about to process her pizza. The guy glance at me with frown lines deeper than my future.

"What?"

"That pizza," I said and pointed to the box in his hands. "That's mine buddy. This spawn of Satan here just assaulted me and took it from me."

Cashier-boy blinked, his mouth falling ajar. He glanced between the comic book he had open on his lap (an X-Men issue, nice) and me, as if trying to make up his mind about what was more entertaining.

Reality won.

F for Wolverine and the X-crew.

"Is that true?"

He pushed his glasses up his nose and turned assertively to face Hannah Montana 2.0. For all the fire she'd smoked up my ass minutes ago, I had to admit she had the shame to look a little bit mortified at my tattling on her. By the pencil-skirt and satin white top she wore tucked into it, I could tell she was one of those hard-working, stickler-for-the-rules types.

I smirked at her and crossed my arms over my chest, not failing to notice her eyes drop to my arms.

That's right you portrait-of-a-devil-on-fire, these guns aren't just for show.

"Absolutely not!"

I froze, my fingers digging into my arms.

"Excuse me?" I raised my voice. Was she really going to blatantly lie?

"He stole the pizza from my cart first. I just got it back!"

"By ramming me over with your trolley!" I countered, voice heated. "In what world is that not assault?"

"Oh please," she scoffed, looking me up and down like I was an ice cream cone she'd dropped on the floor by accident. "You slid on the floor and fell on your own clumsy ass. How is it my fault if you have two left feet?"

My jaw dropped open. Any more and I could practically fit that pizza box right in and walk right on out of here.

"Listen," I hissed, moving up to her past the gaps in our trolleys."You know what you did. Own up to it."

She didn't back down. She threw me a triumphant smirk and stepped right up to bat, her face hovering just a couple centimetres over mine.

"And you know what you did, you no-good pizza-stealing oaf."

Oaf? Was she from the sixteenth century?

I moved in closer to try and intimidate her, not letting it faze me that this was yet another woman I had to slightly look up at to make eyes meet. If anything, my refusal to step down was working. She audibly gulped, and her eyes darted to the side, protectively over the pizza box.

I didn't look away though. I could have but I found myself staring at her skin. This close, I could see the freckles on her cheeks. They seemed to taunt me as well, blaring to life beneath a tomato-like blush.

"Oh, I get it," the cashier spoke up suddenly. "Is this some kind of roleplay thing? Street theatre? Are you two going to make up and go at it on the floor now as a commentary toward porn?"

"What?!"

We both jumped apart and stared at him in shock. He looked at us expectantly, setting his comic book to the side now.

"Go on," he said, grinning and cupping his face in his hands. "This is a skit right? I'm being recorded for TikTok or YouTube or something."

"I'll assure you Casey," she spoke up, voice icy, "This is very real. Now please, bill me my pizza."

"Casey, mano-a-mano here," I spoke up and leaned in over the counter, looking the guy straight in the eyes with a friendly smile, "You look like a guy who's suffered the same afflictions as I have. Women looking down on us, treating us like a joke, taking what's rightfully ours and leaving us nothing but breadcrumbs to survive on."

His face changed and behind those spectacles, I could see his eyes moved by memories. We, men, swum in pools of them.

I hid my smirk and went on.

"Well, this woman right here? She's leaving me with breadcrumbs, Casey. She's taking away that pizza from me, the only thing I wanted to buy, when she's got a cart loaded full of goodies."

Casey's eyes flickered to her trolley and he hummed in silent agreement.

"All I wanted was the one pizza. And she just has to have that too."

"I—"

Casey held up a hand, silencing her high-pitched voice. Her words drowned in her throat and she stared at him, aghast.

"I've heard enough."

I straightened and threw Hannah Montana 2.0 a snarky grin.

The look on her face. Ha.

That's what you get for stealing the A-Man's—

"I'm keeping this pizza for myself," Casey declared.

"Sorry, what?"

What happened to the bro-code? He was supposed to have my back here!

"Yeah, I don't get paid enough for this shit," he muttered, leaning back and pocketing the pizza behind the counter for himself. "You're both clearly deranged. Either way, the pizza is the problem here. So unless you have something else to buy today, I suggest you move on and stop wasting everyone's time here, especially your own."

"But—" I started.

"Casey, I got here firs-"

"Or I could just call security and tell them you two caused a scene on the grocery floor and have you both escorted out?"

Wow. Go Casey.

I was mildly impressed by how he was handling the whole thing. Didn't think a kid like him had it in him, especially not on first appearance, but by the dead-fish stare he gave us both, I could see he wasn't joking.

Raising my hands in surrender, I stepped back and away.

"I'm good here man."

Montana 2.0 didn't say a word, still staring at the pizza from under the transparent counter. Was she going to go ape-shit on him too?

"Okay," she relented and then grabbed the edge of her cart, pulling it forward and damn near hitting me in the process. "Just this for me then."

She grudgingly started unloading the items and shot me a sideways glare that dripped pure hatred.

"I hope you're happy."

I grinned.

"I'm just happy that you're not happy."

She narrowed her eyes at me and opened her mouth to say something further before thinking otherwise.

"Ugh. Leave me alone, you creep."

I was the creep? Wow.

Before I could put her in her place, my phone dinged in my back pocket. I fished it out.

Javier is gonna need your room tonight. You don't mind sleeping on the couch, right?

That was not a question. Behind Megan's faked niceties, I knew this was a power move. Well, I got the signal loud and clear.

I'd make sure this was her last one.

Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I glanced up to find the grocery-bully giving me the stink-eye. She puffed up her chest suddenly, like she was auditioning for a role in the animal kingdom's Next Top Model, somewhere between that famous Lisa Simpson meme wanting to throw hands and a peacock doing its wild strut.

But me? I had bigger fish to fry.

I shoved past her, purposefully hitting her sides in the process as she shouted a "hey!" of protest. As I breezed through the check out counter, I nabbed a bottle of her wine that had already been through the scanner.

"You see that? He's stealing!"

"Uh-huh," Casey muttered, not breaking a sweat, let alone a nail, to intervene.

Payback was a vintage best served chilled, so I popped the cork on the stolen treasure, took a sip in broad daylight, and strolled on like a wine-loving bandit through the street. To be honest, I couldn't give a shit about wine or most alchohol really but I had to leave that store on a win. It would be the last one I'd get in a while.

Packing up my things a day early was not in the books but I had no intention of enduring another night of humiliation. The mid-day thievery was just a consolation prize for surviving the grocery store gladiator showdown.

I glanced at the price tag and felt almost guilty for a second before passing it off with a chuckle. Montano 2.0 was definitely just as broke as me to be buying this.

I almost considered going back and getting her a thank-you card for saving me a few bucks. I could sign the card as the Robin Hood of the bargain aisle.

She'd do more than smash the side of my trolley for that.

"So where are you going?"

I ignored Megan, continuing to fiddle with my phone. I'd been sitting my ass on her couch for the last twenty minutes with not a single Uber or Lyft in sight. At some point during my last hour in her apartment, Megan had slinked into the living room and hopped up on a barstool near the open kitchen, watching me while sipping her juice box in an obnoxiously loud volume.

"Want me to call a cab for you?"

"No thanks," I responded, acknowledging her presence for the first time.

"Javier's taking a nap. I could take his car keys and drop y—"

"Definitely not."

There was no way I was entering that car without disinfecting every inch of it. Plus, I wasn't an idiot to risk revealing my new address to Megan. She didn't let up though.

"You really can sleep on the couch, A. I don't mind."

It sickened me a little just how genuine she sounded. And the fact that she could be genuine in the moment was even more sickening.

Did she truly not realize no self-respecting man would stay a minute longer in their ex's place while the new lay took up their room?

"I'm fine," I snapped, curt.

"You've booked a hotel then?"

Oh God. This girl could terrify the Riddler. The sheer volume of her questions.

"Megan, I—"

Before I could finish, my phone pinged. A cab was on the way.

Without a second to waste, I slid on my 40L backpack, grabbed my duffel in one hand and a trolley suitcase in the other and made a beeline to the door. The clock atop it read 11:30 p.m. I was supposed to have left hours ago but the packing had taken much longer, subjecting me to putting up with the awkwardness of Javier visiting her the entire evening as well.

Megan, however, was oddly emotional and had audibly instructed him to steer clear of my 'space,' or whatever I had left of it. She'd even offered to help pack, looking the tiniest bit remorseful when I put the hard drive she'd decimated back in its case.

The last thing I wanted was more drama but just as I was halfway through the door, she grabbed me by the wrist and tugged me back.

"A."

"That's Aiden for you," I huffed, incensed by the way she still called me that.

"Aiden," she repeated, her voice a tad tender. I looked up from the floor to her eyes, surprised to see they were blurry. "For what it's worth," she said, "I'm sorry this didn't work out."

I looked at her and I saw years of memories flash through her eyes like a movie reel on 1,000x speed. I wish I could say it made me feel something but all I felt was empty.

As empty as the hard drive she'd stomped on.

"Yeah me too," I said.

She blinked and let my wrist go, her lips pressing together. Whatever tears she shed, I did not see as I turned my back on her. The resounding sound of the door closing and the click of the lock was more a relief than a grievance.

As I walked down that hall, hauling my things with me, I felt a weight starting to lift off my chest, creeping up from the depths of my stomach and up through my ribs like an anchor being lifted. I smiled to myself.

This was some form of divine symbolism, signifying the end to my chapter here. It was the universe's way of giving me a hug and telling me it would only get better.

Or not.

Because two seconds later, I let out the longest wine-flavored belch I'd ever had in my life.

Fucking acidity.

And about twenty minutes later, I was assaulted for the second time in a day in the promised comfort of my new home.

The universe was never going to embrace me in its warm arms, no. It was taking one Freudian nightmare-sized dump on me after another.

A dump going by the name of—

_____

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Song: Cry Me A River by Justin Timberlake

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