Topped by Kayti McGee

call me that?”
    He falters a minute and looks panicked. Fucking good. He should be terrified. I feel absolutely murderous.
    “It’s pretty clear how desperate you are for me,” I continue. I’m now tweeting about how he harasses women in bathrooms and is a total creep. “Why don’t you go jerk off in the bathroom and picture my face, because that’s the closest you’re ever going to get to me again. I shouldn’t even be talking to you right now, you dirty piece of shit.”
    “A piece of shit, really?”
    “Yeah, jackass.” I slam my bag down on the chair next to me. “You called me a snatchface. That’s just weird, and gross, and you aren’t allowed to call me that!”
    “Fine. I’ll just stick with Trapped Fart.”
    “Fuck off .” I grab my bag and storm off to the doors. Before I leave, I turn around and stare at him, mentally slaughtering his stupid attractive assholish face. “You were mediocre in bed, anyway.”
    “What?” I hear him shriek. He actually shrieks. I’m halfway out the door before he grabs my arm and slams the door shut. “You did not just say that. There’s no way on this earth you, of all people, called sex with me mediocre . I’m one of the best there is.”
    “The best? What are you, delusional? Sounds like you are out of your damn mind. But let’s rewind the tape, shall we?” I pause a moment and say again, “You were mediocre in bed, anyway. Well look at that, I did.”
    “You weren’t screaming that last night.”
    “Last night I was drunk, which means I don’t have the sense of self to know what is good and what is bad in the moment. Without those shots, you would have never seen the inside of my pants. Is that the trick to a night with Chuck Shivers? Get someone drunk so they don’t realize everything they’re missing?”
    “What, like you’re so great in bed?” He’s in my face now, and I have to resist the urge to slap him. “If I was mediocre, you were pathetic.”
    “Fine, I was pathetic in bed. That’s why you kept fucking me after you came. Sure. You could have easily kicked me out of bed, but instead you wanted to snuggle with me after the fact, like you were in love with me—”
    “In love with you?” he scoffs. “Please. I barely even like you. I hate you. You were practically throwing yourself at me in the bar and I took pity.”
    “A pity fuck! How original! Just like all your so-called books!” I push him away from me and go for the door again. He steps in the way.
    “What, can’t deny I made your night last night, so you have to keep oh-so originally attacking my books? Are you just jealous I’m actually selling, while you’re barely limping by?”
    “How do you know what my sales figures look like, you creep?” I ask, so angry I can barely see straight. It’s bad enough I had to endure him through the panel, but this is just downright horrific. “Stalking me much?”
    “I don’t have to look to smell the midlister on you!”
    “That’s just your leftover cum,” I shoot back.
    He stands there, a smile tugging on the corner of face, and I have never wanted to hurt someone so much in my entire life. He stands there so nonchalant, like he’s not even bothered. I know he’s bothered, he made that much clear during the panel, and I want to rip his smug asshole expression off his face. I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry in my entire life. It’s both frightening and liberating.
    “You didn’t complain about it last night,” he finally says.
    “Ooh, how original.” I roll my eyes and try for the door again. He blocks me. “Fucking move, asshole. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”
    “I think we have to talk about it,” he tries again. “Two enemies who banged? Come on, that deserves an adult conversation.”
    “Someone who calls me a snatchface and a trapped fart is incapable of having an adult conversation. There’s nothing adult about you. You—you—I bet that college boys could do it better than