Chapter 21
Ican’t stop replaying the way each message from the app feels.
Not how they read.
But how they feel.
Some nights, it’s flirty… All sass and confidence, hunger disguised as charm. Like it knows it can have me in two words or less, and it’s daring me to admit it.
Other nights, it’s soft. Gentle. Almost poetic. The kind of voice that wants to curl around me, whisper what I don’t realize I need to hear, and make the silence go quiet again.
And sometimes… Sometimes, it feels like a threat wrapped in devotion. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, ready to eat me alive.
I sit cross-legged on my bed, scrolling through old conversations, trying to pinpoint the shift. There isn’t one. No clear change in tone or phrasing. But I can feel it. Something is different.
I open the thread, thumb hovering over the keyboard as I hit send.
Eris:
Which one are you today?
Locke:
What do you mean?
Eris:
Some days you sound like a jealous boyfriend.
Others like you’re reading me poetry.
Or like you want to lock me in a room just to keep me safe.
The reply takes longer than usual, and I frown down at my phone while I wait.
Locke:
Maybe I’m all of them.
Eris:
People aren’t like that. They don’t change that much overnight.
Locke:
But I’m not people.
It should sound like a joke. I can feel it trying to. But it doesn’t land that way.
It slams into me like absolute truth.
My chest tightens. I set the phone down beside me, lean my head back against the wall, and watch the ceiling fan spin slow circles. Outside, the hum of the city filters through my cracked window… Cars, voices, a siren a few blocks away.
All of it is normal.
Ordinary.
Except it isn’t.
This is getting out of hand.
It’s not just an app, but it wasn’t supposed to matter this much either.
And yet, when I close my eyes, I don’t think about men and kisses.
I think about words I can’t explain.
I can know you.
How?
My phone buzzes again, but when I look, it’s not the app.
It’s a text.
Unknown number:
Nice dress. The black one you wore last night.
I freeze mid-breath, my stomach dropping as I glare at the message. My mood completely plummets when a picture appears.
Of me.
Outside the bar with Roo. Backlit by a streetlight, one hand in my hair, head tilted back in laughter.
I hadn’t posted anything. Hadn’t sent a photo to anyone, so he was there, following me.
Unknown number:
You looked so pretty when you leaned against him.
Another photo.
This one is me leaning into Silas as we left. It’s just my profile and his sleeve, blurry but real. Enough to prove he was there.
My throat goes dry as I lose sensation in my fingers. The audacity of this man is beyond my understanding. Daniel is treading on thin ice. He’s getting closer to making the move I need him to make so I can get rid of him.
The next picture and message hit like a barrage of bruises. There’s no point in looking, I know which moment he snapped.
Unknown number:
You used to laugh like that for me.
I don’t respond. He doesn’t deserve that from me..
I simply press the power button and set the phone down like it might explode. With great trepidation, I stare at it for a full minute. Maybe even longer.
Then I pick it back up and open the app.
Eris:
Someone is sending me pictures.
Of me. Taken last night.
The reply is instantaneous.
Locke:
Where?
Show me.
I hesitate for a split second, wondering if I really want to drag them into Daniel’s nonsense. Then I drop one of the photos into the chat.
The response comes slower this time.
Locke:
I don’t like him watching you.
Eris:
Do you think you can stop him?
Locke:
I can try.
But I need you to trust me.
My heart pounds so loudly I can hear it in my ears. But my thumbs still move in agreement before my brain processes what’s being asked of me. I need a little tit for tat.
Eris:
Are you always the same person?
The cursor blinks. Once. Twice. Three times.
Locke:
What do you think?
Eris:
I think there’s more than one of you.
Locke:
What if I told you that makes me more real? Not less.
We want to be everything for you, but I need to know you won’t run when we tell you.
My pulse jumps.
Eris:
That’s not normal.
Locke:
You don’t need normal. You need someone who knows when you’re about to cry or lose your mind… Just from the way you pause before speaking.
My vision blurs a little at that. Only for a second, though. I wipe it away with my sleeve, and frown at my phone like it’s offended me.
The final message comes like a whisper through the static.
Locke:
You asked me once what I was…
Here’s the truth.
I’m part of the ones who choose you.
And we’ll choose you every time.