Venmo Me for the Tampons: How My Ex's Penny-Pinching Cost Him Everything Chapter 2

“Babe, you still hurting? Let me make you some hot tea,” he said smoothly. “Oh, by the way, just Venmo me $15. Ten for the tampons, and I bought myself a Coke as a delivery fee. I won’t charge you a service tax though.”

He chuckled at his own joke and turned toward the kitchen. Staring at his back, I felt a wave of dizziness.

My cramps were always severe, and Brandon used to always jump up to make me tea. He even watched YouTube videos on acupressure to rub my lower back when it got really bad.

“Women have it so hard,” he used to say. “Seeing you in pain makes me hurt too.”

Back then, I thought I’d hit the jackpot. I thought I’d finally found a good one. I didn't realize his "gentleness" was a cheap act funded entirely by my bank account.

He handed me the mug, snapping me out of my thoughts. Suppressing the urge to throw the hot water in his face, I took it and forced a pale smile.

“I feel a lot better. You know what? To thank you, let’s go out for a massive seafood lunch. My treat.”

His eyes instantly lit up. He practically hopped over to the sofa, rubbing his hands together with a grin stretching ear to ear.

“Seriously? That’s awesome. Hey... do you mind if I invite a couple of the guys? We haven't hung out in a while. It’ll be fun, and we can all get crab!”

I opened my mouth, then shut it, nodding sweetly.

“Whatever you want! The more the merrier.”

While he turned his back to call his frat brothers, I quickly texted my best friend, Harper.

“Emergency. I’m staying at your place tonight. Pick me up after work.”

Harper replied instantly: “Staying over? Trouble in paradise? Did Mr. Excel Spreadsheet finally snap?”

“I’ll explain later. It’s worse than you think.”

I curled up on the sofa, watching Brandon out of the corner of my eye. He was practically vibrating with excitement on the phone, no doubt calculating how much he could milk out of my wallet today.

By noon, Brandon’s three "bros" from the comment section were waiting outside. They exchanged smirks the second they saw me.

Brandon proudly threw an arm over my shoulder, puffing his chest out.

“Alright boys, order whatever you want today! Don’t hold back. Right, babe?”

I nodded, playing the role of the sweet, clueless girlfriend perfectly. “Exactly! Eat up! Don’t be shy.”

We piled into my Porsche Macan and headed straight for the most expensive waterfront seafood spot in the city. The kind of place where the lobster is flown in daily and you don't get out for less than $200 a person.

As soon as I parked, my phone buzzed. A Venmo request from Brandon.

“Hey babe,” he said, tapping his phone. “The IRS mileage rate is 67 cents a mile. We drove about 10 miles, so I just requested $6.70 for the gas. I don't want to owe you anything!”

The guys snickered in the backseat. “Brandon, you’re wild for that,” one of them said.

“Hey, we keep it fair,” Brandon grinned.

Once inside, the boys flocked to the fresh catches like vultures.

King crab, premium oysters, massive lobsters... they pointed at the most expensive items on the ice. They even ordered imported sparkling water.