Chapter 33

RULE #32: DURING A HARD BREAKUP, REFER TO RULE #4 — A BURGER AND A COCKTAIL ARE ALWAYS THE ANSWER.

Presh

"Get up," Amahle says, slamming the door to my room as she marches in.

It's been eight days, four hours, and thirty-two minutes since I walked out of Musa Mthembu's house for the last time. And I haven't done much but create a Presh-sized dent in my bed, binge an entire true-crime series, and eat my weight in Astros.

And cry. A lot.

When I look back at the last two months, I feel a sting of grief and shame. I can't help but miss the way things were and the way I felt when I was with him, but it was all an illusion. I literally played a part, and I played it well. The things I did for him just to win his attention — it's humiliating.

But then I remember the feel of his arms around me when I wake up and the look in his eyes when he gazes down at me. That shattering night on Saturday when he confessed how much he cared about me…

It's hard not to feel like I'm throwing that love away.

But he loved Precious, not Presh.

"It's Tuesday. Let's go and fill up on starters and eat until we can barely walk."

I grumble into my pillow. "Are you paying? I don't have a job, remember?"

"If you sneak me a sip of your cocktail, I will."

I force out a laugh. As much as I want to roll over and ignore her invitation, I can't do that to Amahle. It's not her fault I'm a loser who falls for all the wrong men.

"Fine… let me shower."