DEMETRIA

“You don’t give up, do you?” I asked, arms folded, glaring at him like the nuisance he was. “I’ve blocked you on everything, Mark. Yet here you are again, like gum on the bottom of my shoe.”

His jaw clenched. “Marion Whitfield? Really, Demetria?”

I laughed. Loud, sharp, and sarcastic. “Oh, so now you keep up with my love life? Funny how you couldn’t even keep up with me when we were together.”

He flinched but pushed forward. “He’s not good for you.”

“And ...