Kicked Into Water, I Learned to Leave

I stood outside my door, holding the breakfast I'd just bought, staring at Celine Harper. She looked like she'd come a long way to get here.

She smirked. "Living the good life, huh? Can't even be bothered to come home."

Home? The place that could throw me out like I was nothing? That wasn't home.

Celine had told me more than once that I had no right to act like I owned the place under her roof. But when had I ever done that? Every single time, I had been the one groveling for her forgiveness.

But not this time. Never again.

When Celine saw that I wasn't falling over myself to apologize and that I simply walked right past her instead, she froze for a solid three seconds. Then she grabbed my wrist, her face full of disbelief.

"You're really holding a grudge over that?" she snapped.

Just because Tristan Whitfield wanted to know how long I could hold my breath, she had kicked me straight into the pool. If someone there hadn't known CPR, I might not have made it. And she boiled all of that down to me holding a grudge.

I had nothing left to say to her.

I snapped back to the present. My breakfast was getting cold, so I shook her hand off and headed inside.

Celine followed me in, fuming. She sat there, sulking as she watched me eat.

In the past, I wouldn't even eat a piece of fruit or a snack without splitting it in two and bringing her share over. But Celine always had this look of indescribable irritation whenever I did.

"God, you're so annoying. Stop hovering over me like you're my mother, fussing over every little thing!"

Now I'd finally figured it out. I just needed to take care of myself. There was no point in bending over backward for someone that selfish.

Celine coughed a few times on purpose, but I didn't react. So she kicked the leg of my table.

"Are you coming back with me or not?" she asked irritably.

I stopped eating and actually thought about it. I hadn't quit my job in Anterville yet, and all my things were still at her place.

So I nodded calmly. "I'll go back."

Celine couldn't hold back a laugh. She looked me over with a smug expression and was just about to say something when her phone rang.

It was the ringtone she'd set specifically for Tristan. She glanced at me and said, a little too casually, "One of my employees needs something."

Then she got up and went into the other room.

What she didn't know was that the walls in this old building were paper-thin. Every word between her and Tristan carried right through.

"Celine, when are you coming back? Is Gavin still throwing a fit?"

"Same as always," Celine replied, sounding pleased with herself. "The second I brought it up, he couldn't say yes fast enough. He's probably scared I'll leave him."

"You spoil him too much. Being that soft on a guy is just asking for trouble."

…

The next morning, Celine and I boarded the plane. She held out her hand and looked at me like it was the most natural thing in the world. When I just stared at her blankly, her expression soured.

"Don't play dumb. Give me the motion sickness pills."

That was when I remembered that Celine got severely airsick. I used to always carry her medication on me, just in case she needed it. But after she tossed me into the water like I was nothing, still going out of my way for her would just be pathetic.

"Do I look like your personal assistant?"

I ignored the darkening look on her face and took my own medication. After she kicked me into the pool, I'd had a high fever for three straight days.

Celine's expression went cold. Throughout the flight, she sat with her brows furrowed, cold sweat running down her face.

Eventually, her head lolled to the side and landed on my shoulder. I was about to push her off, but she straightened up on her own before I could, as if to make it clear she was the wronged party and wanted nothing to do with me.