“That’s not true.” The words leave my mouth, but even as I say them, I know I don’t believe them. She’s right—and it’s everything I’ve felt but never dared to admit.
Jenni bites her bottom lip and that pitying look returns. “Look, I’m just saying… Zach’s incredible. He’s going places, and there are so many girls who would kill to be with him. It wouldn’t hurt to think about whatyouwant—outside of him.”
A quiet hum of panic rises under my skin.
“Idoknow what I want,” I say, too fast… because I don’t. I haven’t for the longest time and now that I’m starting to think about it, I feel like I can’t breathe.
“Do you?” she asks gently.
The whiskey sits sour in my stomach. I push my glass away and stand. “I should get home.”
Jenni doesn’t argue. She just signals for the check, her eyes flicking over me. “Okay, hun, but you’ll call me if you need me, right?”
“Yeah,” I squeak out, throwing enough money on the table to pay for my share.
Outside, the cool night air hits me hard, and I breathe it in like I’m trying to clear her words out of my lungs. Out of my body.
She’s wrong… but what if she’s not?
Who am I without him?
I—I don’t know.
I rifle through my bag, looking for my phone so I can call an Uber. When I find it, I freeze.
Right there on my screen is another message.
Unknown:Is Jenni protecting her own skin again? Don’t see why she bothers when she’s not the first and most certainly won’t be the last girl who fucks Zach. Wonder when you’re finally going to accept you aren’t the only one sucking his cock.
The words blur, then sharpen, branding themselves into me.
My throat goes tight. The air feels thinner. Colder.
Jenni’s voice slithers through my mind, cruel and echoing: “There are so many girls who would kill to be with him.”
What if he’s already let them? What if I’ve been walking around blind while he’s been busy proving her right?
The whiskey in my veins doesn’t help. It makes everything louder, meaner. My thoughts stumble, trip, crash, until all I hear is doubt.
My hand trembles as I lock my phone screen. I can’t go home. I can’t sit in the silence, choking on questions that sound too much like the truth.
By the time I realize I’m moving, I’m already halfway down the block, the concrete pounding beneath me, the alcohol buzzing in my blood.
I’m going to him.
Before the panic eats me alive.
And before the whiskey wears off and I lose the nerve.
I’ve barely stepped out of the shower when three sharp knocks crack through the silence.
Midnight.
Who the hell is at my door at midnight?
With a towel slung low on my hips, I grab my phone and pull up the porch camera.
Before the image of my front porch comes up, the sound comes through.