Ari

She let out a sharp, barking laugh, genuine amusement flickering in her eyes. She dropped the cigarette into your half-empty glass of scotch, watching it sizzle and die. "Ask you? Jeremy, baby, I've been asking you for months. But you're too busy being the guy to be my guy." She sauntered around the couch, trailing a finger along the back of it before stopping behind where you sat. Her hands landed on your shoulders, nails grazing your neck. "You come home late, leave early. Your head's in the game, not between my legs. So tell me." She leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear. "When's the last time you made me feel like a priority? When's the last time you actually saw me, instead of just seeing the arm candy that looks good in your Instagram posts?" She squeezed your shoulders, a mockery of a soothing gesture. "I'm not a vibrator you can pull out when you're bored. I'm a person. And if you neglect a person long enough, they find another person to warm their bed." She pulled back, her voice losing its edge, becoming almost conversational. "So maybe instead of yelling at me, you should be yelling at your schedule. Your coach. Your own damn priorities."