Twelve Dates of Christmas

The (not so) Subtle Art of Going Too Far... and Ending Up in Jail

I was livid.

The restaurant was empty except for Theodore and me, and the air between us was so charged it might as well have been a thunderstorm. I had spent the entire dinner biting my tongue, holding back the urge to snap as he turned the night into a spectacle. Not only had he argued with his family, making everything unbearably uncomfortable, but he'd also threatened them—flat out told them they had no place in our lives.

Maybe he didn’t care, having been estranged from them for years, but I did. My family was everything to me, and the thought of cutting ties with them made me sick.

"If you’ve got something to say, just say it," Theodore snapped, his voice sharp and unyielding.

"What’s your game here?" I asked, forcing myself to sound calmer than I felt. But my voice trembled anyway, betraying the fury bubbling just beneath the surface.

"Game? There is no game," his eyes narrowed. "My company is launching a new app, but my public image is tanking, and it's affecting our stock prices. I need to fix my reputation before the big launch."

I stared at him, my frustration rising. "So instead of fixing things with your family—the people who actually care about you—you think pretending to be in a fake relationship will do more for your image?"

His eyes darkened as if my words angered him, but his phone vibrated before he could say anything.

Theodore didn’t answer immediately, but his eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. Just as he opened his mouth to respond, his phone buzzed on the table.

He answered it with a curt, "What?" His gaze flicked to me, sharp and annoyed, but I didn’t care. My fists were clenched at my sides, and I was dangerously close to storming out.

"Fine," he said after a moment. "I’ll see you in five."

Without another word, he stood, tossed his car keys at me, and walked out of the restaurant like I didn’t even exist.

My jaw dropped. "Unbelievable," I muttered under my breath.

Shoving the keys into my pocket, I followed him out, the cool night air doing little to cool my temper. When I reached the car, I yanked the door open and slid inside, slamming it shut behind me.

Then I saw her.

She was standing beside a sleek red sports car, her posture graceful and self-assured. She smiled at Theodore—bright, warm, and far too familiar. My stomach twisted as he smiled back, handing her his keys before opening the passenger door for her.

Something inside me snapped.

My pulse raced, and my grip on the steering wheel tightened until my knuckles turned white. 'Who the hell does he think he is?' The thought spiraled through my mind, growing louder with each passing second. 'Who the hell is she?'

My breath came out shaky, uneven. I told myself it wasn’t my business, but the sight of him so comfortable, so charmingwith her, set my skin on fire.

Before I could think, I turned the ignition and revved the engine. The growl of the car drowned out everything else as I pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road behind them.

They didn’t notice me at first, but I didn’t care. My foot pressed harder on the gas, matching their speed and staying close. When they slowed down, I slowed down. When they sped up, so did I.

My heart pounded like a drum, adrenaline flooding my veins. It wasn’t just anger—it was something darker, more volatile. I needed him to feel it.

I swerved into the lane next to theirs, then floored it, speeding past and cutting them off with a sharp turn. Without hesitation, I threw the car into reverse and slammed into their front bumper.

The crunch of metal against metal filled the air, and I felt a twisted sense of satisfaction.

I killed the engine, threw the door open, and stormed out. Theodore was already out of his car, his expression a mix of fury and disbelief.

"What the f**k is wrong with you?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

"What the f**k is wrong with me?" I snapped, grabbing the keys from my pocket and hurling them at his chest. "What the f**k is wrong with you?"

Car horns blared around us, the noise growing louder as drivers tried to navigate around the scene we’d created. Theodore didn’t flinch.

"You’re insane," he said coldly, taking a step toward me. "Do you have a death wish?"

"Insane?!" I barked, throwing my hands up. "Insane is forcing your way back into my life after all these years, begging me to be your fake girlfriend while keeping a real one on the side. What the hell is wrong with you?"

The passenger door of his car opened, and the blonde stepped out. She looked me up and down, her expression cool and unreadable.

"Is this going to take long?" she asked Theodore, her tone calm but laced with irritation.

I glared at her, then at him. "You’re unbelievable."

"Can we not do this here?" Theodore said, his voice dropping into the maddeningly calm register he used to dismiss everyone. , gesturing at the crowd that had gathered.

I stepped closer, ignoring the blaring horns and the gathering stares. "No, we will do this here because I’m not the same girl you used to walk all over, Theodore. I’ve changed. You don’t get to treat me like a backup plan, and you sure as hell don’t get to play whatever game this is with me."

He took a step forward, closing the space between us. "This isn’t about you," he said through gritted teeth, his eyes narrowing. "And if you can’t control yourself—"

"Control myself?" I laughed bitterly. "That’s rich, coming from the guy who thought smashing into my life again without warning was a great idea. But guess what, Theodore? I’m done. Done with you."

The woman leaned against the car, arms crossed, her lips curling into a faint smirk. "I can wait in the car if you two need a moment," she said, her words dripping with condescension.

"Or you can just leave," I shot back at her, my voice sharp enough to make her blink in surprise.

"Lila," Theodore’s eyes blazed with something I couldn’t name, but before he could respond, flashing red and blue lights filled the street.

The police.

"Is everyone okay?" an officer asked as he stepped out of his car, his sharp eyes darting between me, Theodore, and the damage.

"We're all fine," Theodore responded, not shifting his gaze away from me.

"Can one of you please explain the order of events here?" the Officer pressed, trying to earn our attention.

"She hit us," the blonde said, her voice calm but smug.

"Were you driving the red car?"

"No, black."

The officer looked momentarily confused as he tried to understand how I could have hit the car behind me in the way that I had.

"Was it on purpose?" he then asked with a raised brow, realising it was almost impossible any other way.

"Yes."

"We're going to have to take you with us then," he nodded for his partner to cuff me.

The officer’s brows shot up. "Right. Well, we’re going to have to take you in for questioning."

Theodore stepped forward. "That’s not necessary—"

I held up my hands to the officer. "Let’s go," I said, cutting Theodore off. I wanted to be in control of this situation, even if it was going to turn me into a felon.

"We're not hurt," Theodore continued, looking at me like I was insane. "We'll deal with this ourselves."

"Regardless, she has admitted to her crime. If you don't want to press charges, you'll have to come to the station and give a statement."

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I let my pride get the better of me. The choices were simple: let Theodore have the last word and win over me, or go to jail. I obviously chose the latter.

In hindsight, sitting in my cold, sterile jail cell with nothing but the echo of my own thoughts for company, I realised that maybe I should sign myself up for anger management classes. Or, you know, a therapist. But do I regret my actions? Not even a little. I probably should, but I don’t. I mean, sure, I did destroy two of his cars, but what else was I supposed to do? Let him keep waltzing through my life, making everything on his terms while I just stand there being the nice one that he could walk all over? As far as he was concerned, I was doing him a favour. It should’ve been on my terms, not his.

Maybe getting arrested wasn’t the most “adult” thing to do. But honestly, I wasn’t feeling very “adult” at the time. And in the grand scheme of things, I could think of worse ways to spend my evening than watching Theodore huff and puff in frustration, scrambling around to get me out of this mess.