Chapter 4 – You Are a Better Slut

Nicole’s POV

“Put the cup up.”

“All right.”

Rowan’s voice echoed from the far end of the bar, followed by the usual chorus of his teammates laughing like middle-school bullies on a field trip. I could barely hear the words at first, but I knew that voice.

I didn’t bother to look in his direction. I was too focused on delivering drinks to the rowdy customers up front, trying to keep my smile pasted on. Inside though, I was exhausted. My feet ached, my palms were sweaty from the nonstop rush.

Rowan showing up here? Of course, he would and probably would get back to me with regards to the humiliation he must have felt.

I know that he wasn’t just here to drink. I knew why he brought his little pack of jackals because he must have wanted a show. Who knows, he came to watch me struggle and to remind me of just how disposable I was.

“Okay, another round is here,” one of his buddies said as I made my way over, carefully balancing a tray of five foamy beers. But from the way they were holding their half-empty cups and banging the table like overgrown toddlers, I already knew five wouldn’t be enough.

“Hey, Nicole,” Rowan called, loud enough for everyone near to hear. He dragged my name out like it was gum on his tongue. I stopped beside the table, bracing myself.

“Why don’t you be a good girl and go get us another round? Five wouldn't be enough.”

I blinked. “But… you guys said five.”

He leaned back in his chair like he owned the place, smirking. “How is that my business? Just go get the fucking beer. Or do you wanna lose the only job that puts one square meal on your table, hmm?”

The threat hung in the air like invisible sour smoke.

I bit my bottom lip and turned away before the heat behind my eyes could boil over, because there was no need arguing with him. Besides, one of his rich-boy friends actually owned the bar, so what could I possibly say? I headed back toward the bar counter, passing customers who barely glanced my way.

“Three glasses of…” I paused, thinking, “…give me three Bud Light Platinums.”

“Coming up,” the bartender said.

As I was waiting for the bartender to get the drinks ready, I could hear Rowan's and his friend’s voices, getting louder and rowdier.

“Yo, dude, how’d you get Nicole so whipped?” one of Rowan’s friends asked, laughing. “She’s like your personal butler.”

Another joined in, louder. “Bro, I still can’t believe she stayed with you after you were sucking Sophia’s face off in front of half the damn stadium.”

The clink of cups followed with mock cheers. I stood stiff behind the bar, unconsciously having my fists clenched at my sides.

Rowan’s voice rang louder than the rest. “I don’t know, man. Guess my dick is just that good, you know?”

Then I heard cheers, laughter and smacking hands from them.

And I just stood there, trying so hard to hold back everything I wanted to scream.

The funny thing is — we never even slept together or even got intimate. Not once. The worst part? He knew I wasn’t the type to just throw myself at anyone, and he used that. Used it to paint me however he wanted.

‘Why is he like this?’

I closed my eyes for a second, hoping to steady myself from the hurt I feel deep down.

The bartender slid the drinks across. I grabbed the tray and turned to walk back toward them, feeling a lump form in my throat.

As I neared their table, a sudden pressure caught me from behind. I felt a foot deliberately stepping on the back of my ankle. And immediately, I stumbled forward, unable to catch myself. The tray slipped from my hands and had the drinks crashing down with a loud, gut-wrenching shatter.

The entire bar seemed to freeze for a second.

I was on the floor with my knees throbbing and my palms bleeding, the sharp edge of broken glass cutting into me. My breath hitched in my chest as I looked up and there she was.

SOPHIA.

She was smiling like a devil in glitter, mot even an atom of remorse was written on her face.

“Oh no,” someone gasped. “Poor girl.” But nobody moved as they all just watched.

I blinked down at my knees with blood oozing in thin lines. My palms stung like hell, and I could already feel tiny pieces of glass stuck under my skin.

Rowan stood up, and for a brief moment, my stupid heart hoped he’d come help me up.

But nope.

He walked past me and went straight to Sophia like I was nothing more than a cracked tile on the floor.

“What’s the hold-up?” he asked her, like he hadn’t just witnessed her assault me. “Thought you weren’t coming.”

Sophia tilted her head sweetly. “I was getting pretty, all for you.”

Rowan grinned and grabbed her ass right in front of everyone. “I like that.”

I felt my stomach turn. This couldn’t be real, you know.

My hands were bleeding and my cloth was soaked in beer. I was on the fucking ground and they were flirting?

“How could you do this to me?” I finally choked out, struggling to get my knees under me.

Sophia turned around like she didn’t know what I was talking about and Rowan spoke instead, and I felt his voice laced with venom.

“Nice try,” he said. “I saw the way you were looking at that new guy-Brad, today.”

So this was why?

“You set this up?” I asked, slowly rising to my feet. “All of this just because I talked to someone else?”

Rowan didn’t even blink in response to my question and rather blurted. “I said it before. We’re done. You slut.”

The word hit like a slap. But what made it worse was how calm he said it. Like it was just a fact.

I stood there, bleeding and humiliated, with a thousand things I wanted to say but no strength left to say them.

He leaned closer with his voice lower. “Don’t act like some saint. I’ve seen the way you throw yourself around.”

That’s when something inside me finally snapped.

“Slut?” I repeated, louder this time. The whole table went quiet. “Slut? Look at you two. Grabbing each other like wild animals in public, drunk off attention. Tell me, which of us really fits that word?”

Rowan’s grin faded while Sophia’s smirk twisted into something uglier.

And just then, I knew that Rowan wasn't letting me have the show.