Chapter 8 New Divide
The silhouette underneath my sheets rustles, causing me to stir. Billie’s lithe body squirms to find me, but I feel wrong holding her when my thoughts are elsewhere. Her blonde hair lays piled in a mess on top of her head, her dark lashes fanning over her cheeks. She’s quintessentially stunning, yet I’m thinking about a particular raven-haired beauty with pretty green eyes.
My stomach tightens at my inner betrayal, so I glance away.
It has been months since I made Billie my girlfriend. She should have her rightful spot in my bed, but still, the only woman who truly belongs here now remains firmly in my past.
I drag in a slow breath and release it as silently as possible. I don’t know why my brain is in a constant fog over this warped love triangle I seem to be in. Billie is everything I should want in a girlfriend. She’s been so good to me, and yet my heart still beats for Amity.
‘Hey, handsome,’ Billie says huskily.
I stretch my arms above my head to properly relieve the tension in my body. ‘Hey, gorgeous.’
Dad is at a conference for a few days, and Jasmine is sleeping at our grandparents’, which finally allows me to have my girlfriend properly in my bed. Initially, Billie was banned from stepping foot inside our home once Dad found out about how things went down with Amity. But the last couple of months, he’s relented. Sleepovers are still forbidden, so I need to take advantage of every chance I get—especially since QCE is starting next week and I’ll be studying my ass off, trying to pass.
‘Have a nice nap?’ She blinks up at me. Behind her, the clock reads just past seven in the morning.
‘Hell yeah, babe.’ I chuckle, remembering what an animal I was a few hours ago. I was mad at myself for letting my mind float back to the first time I had sex with Amity, so I took it out on Billie’s body.
‘Want to do it again?’ Her nails tickle my abs until she reaches my stirring cock.
‘We better not. Dad could come home any minute. He caught the first flight,’ I groan. Shit will hit the fan if he finds out that Billie stayed the night. It doesn’t help that she finds him intimidating, and borderline annoying with how much he manages to slip Amity into conversations. He keeps a shrine of photos of us on our mantel. What girlfriend would be okay seeing their boyfriend’s ex paraded everywhere? I’ve begged him to take them down, but he refuses, stating that this is his house and she will always be like a daughter to him.
Tugging on her black linen dress and retying her hair into a messy ponytail, Billie rolls her eyes. ‘Wouldn’t want Daddy to get upset that I’m not Amity, now, would we?’ she snarks. Her insecurity is the least attractive thing about her, and to be honest, it is becoming a gigantic issue between us. I’ve never given her a reason to doubt me. I’ve been fully committed to her since I broke Amity’s heart, yet jealousy consumes her.
‘Bil, baby, come on. Don’t be like that.’ The sheet falls from my naked waist as I stand to pacify her. I grab her chin, tilt my head and whisper a breath away from her lips. ‘You’re my girl. My only girl.’
I see the simmering rage turn to mush in her eyes.
She dazzles me with a grin. ‘Okay.’ After briefly kissing me on the lips, she heads out the door. All the sex must have made her less bitchy this morning, because usually, we’d have another World War III fight over my ex.
Did I feel bad about getting with Billie? Of course. At first, I felt like the worst cunt who ever lived, knowing I had obliterated Amity. But Billie’s friendship saved me from some of my darkest thoughts when she left. She filled that void. When she made the first move, I didn’t turn her away. Plus, we had a history, with me losing my virginity to her, so I felt like I owed it to her to give us a chance. As our friendship strengthened, so did our attraction. The pain of Amity leaving lessened, and a glimmer of happiness reappeared. I felt guilty when I started ignoring Amity, but I didn’t want to hurt her by falling for her friend. What I didn’t in a million years anticipate was her walking back into my life and finding out about Billie the way she did.
Do I love Billie? Not…yet? It’s more a deep affection for her.
Do I still love Amity? I’ve never said the words out loud, but yes, I think I do.
Eventually, I need to find a way to get over being in love with her, because she has made it crystal clear, to quote Taylor Swift, that we are ‘never ever getting back together’, which is why I have to pour every effort into seeing if Billie can be a permanent part of my future.
Laying back down, I’m not ready to face the future yet. Reaching over, I open my bedside drawer and pull out a wooden photo frame that I stuff in there every time Billie comes over.
Tracing over the photo inside the jagged frame, I can’t help to cast my mind back to when it was taken. Year ten formal. Naturally, Amity and I went together. It’s a photo of my arm tucked below her waist and her staring up into my eyes, beaming. Dad made us pose for it. At the time, we both were humiliated. Now, I’m so glad he made us pose like that because it is my favourite photo of us. I know Amity has always been self-conscious about her body, but she has no reason to be. Her curves are as if they were carved by Michaeangelo himself. On that day, they were particularly salivating, wrapped in sensual black that clung to her frame. Her chest had far developed beyond all the other girls in the grade, her cleavage tastefully enticing all my senses. She never needed to wear make-up, but God, those fire engine-stained lips were sinful, and I imagined them painting my cock no less than two-hundred times that night.
I wonder if she kept the copy I made her? Probably not. I wouldn’t, if our roles were reversed.
The first few months of her being back were tough on everyone. Me, Billie, Dad, Uncle Mark and especially Amity. The first couple of days, I tried reaching out to apologise, but I was blocked from her life. When it was clear I had incinerated our friendship, I threw myself into my relationship with Billie. Seeing Amity around school made me cry on the inside for how she must have felt. Heinous rumours circulated. I have no idea who the instigator was, but if I ever find out, I’ll rip into them. The worst one was about her weight, that it was the reason I ended things with her. It was the farthest thing from the truth. At some point, I stopped looking for her altogether. I couldn’t stand the embarrassment and dejection on her face when she saw me with Billie. It also wasn’t fair on Billie, for me to be a half-ass in the relationship. It wasn’t her fault that Amity was back.
Hearing the front door slam, I know Dad’s home. His keys clank on the hall table, and the thump of his bag follows on the floor. ‘He’s still asleep, so you’re good.’
‘She’s fucking made it. She’s blown up all over the world, apparently.’ His phone is on speaker, but even if it wasn’t, I’d know that voice anywhere. Uncle Mark.
‘So, wait, Crystal brought her along to the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show, and she just interviewed a bunch of models and singers in some of the sample lingerie?’ Dad reiterates, as if he’s misheard Uncle Mark.
My heart leaps at the mention of Amity. Interviews? Lingerie? Gone viral? What the fuck is going on?
‘Pretty much the gist of it.’
‘And she’s back in a couple of days but has to leave straight after exams? What about formal or graduation? Uni?’
‘Plans change, man. She wasn’t going to formal for obvious reasons.’ Because of me. ‘And she was going to defer uni after…everything that happened with Linc.’
‘And we’re sure it’s all legit?’
‘Uh-huh. Apparently, she’s the world’s next ‘It Girl’. She has an agent and a lawyer has looked over the contracts.’
‘I’m not surprised. Amity has this alluring quality about her that makes you want to be her best friend. I’m so damn proud. I’ll stop by to congratulate her when she gets back,’ Dad gushes.
‘Sounds good. Hey, I gotta go, she’s calling.’ Uncle Mark hangs up, making me quickly extricate my ear from the door and sling myself back to bed before Dad comes looking for me.
I desperately want to ask him what the hell is going on, but I know he’ll only slap the back of my head and tell me to mind my own business. He might talk about Amity all the time, but it’s nothing of substance—more like walking down memory lane. Any new information is off-limits.
Whatever is going on with Amity is big, and I won’t be there to see it. I’ll barely be on the periphery, looking in.
Tomorrow’s her birthday. Eighteen. She’ll be on a plane, spending it by herself. I wonder if she’ll be as melancholy as me? We have spent every single birthday together since we met. We didn’t know her seventeenth birthday would be the last one we’d spend together. Uncle Mark probably has something planned. Something low-key with her friends. If Dad is going, he hasn’t informed me. I guess whatever she ends up doing here will be a double celebration for her new gig.
I’m not really into the whole social media thing, but Billie is. Locally, she’s well-known, but she’s never been offered sponsorships or contracts before, and certainly no one is paying her to jet-set around the world. I hate thinking it, but you could find a Billie on every street corner in the Gold Coast, whereas Amity is a rare find. No wonder she’s been snapped up by the best.
‘Stop staring at your ex and focus on your smokeshow of a girlfriend,’ Joel mutters. I don’t know what his problem is. He’s always had a gripe against Amity, telling me that she’s not good enough, but never actually giving me a reason why.
I turn back in the direction I’ve been unknowingly focussing on. Amity, Lily, Rome and their friends are basking in the sun on the hill. Exams are over, and we’re now all officially waiting for the bell to ring so we can leave the school gates for the last time. It’s the first time in weeks that any of us have actually hung out. It’s like while exams were happening, everything else in the world had completely stopped. Everyone is finally catching up on the last three weeks, half of us in person and others on their phone, trying to get the latest gossip.
I briefly check Billie, whose head is down, fixated on her screen as she scrolls social media. Ignoring Joel, I shrug, as if I don’t care about Amity and her friends. I down my water and covertly chance another glance at my former friends and ex. Seeing her sitting in such close proximity is doing strange things to my head. For the better part of the year, she’s made a conscious effort to stay away from my group, specifically Billie and me.
Amity breaks out in laughter at Rome’s antics. He strips off his shirt before twirling it around his finger and flinging it to the audience gathered around them. Watching in bemusement, I feel a pang in my chest. Rome was my other best mate before I went and stuffed it all up. Amity’s wolf whistle and clap make me smile. Damn, I miss seeing that.
As I conspicuously scrutinise her—now that I have a decent chance—I notice she’s different. For one, she’s lost a fuck-tonne of weight, her baggy jumper swimming on her shrinking frame. Her face is less round and more defined, too. I can see it’s chiselled to perfection, every angle razor-sharp. The curve of her delicate, swan-like neck makes me wish I could kiss her in that secret spot one last time. Usually, her hair is down to hide her insecurities—I never understood why she would mask her perfect beauty—but today, it’s like she’s a phoenix who has risen from the ashes with her high, slicked-back ponytail. She radiates confidence and excitement, like she’s ready for a new beginning.
The blistering heat is becoming unbearable. The majority of us are in our sports uniform and jerseys, but many of us guys have already shredded our tops, leaving us in our shorts. Even the girls have taken to tying their t-shirts into crops.
Out of nowhere, Taylor, another friend of mine, slaps my chest. ‘Jesus Christ, where has she been hiding that tight little body?’ He whistles.
‘Now we know why you were so obsessed with her.’ Joel winks.
I’m still none the wiser about what the hell they’re on about, but if the glacial glare from Billie is anything to go by, I anticipate they’re talking about Amity.
Seeing what all the fuss is about, I force myself to look back at her, jealous that every drooling cunt around me seems to be gazing in the same direction.
My eyes are cartoon comical. She’s removed her skirt, leaving herself in bike shorts that look as if they’re painted on. She’s also removed her jersey to reveal her white sport shirt, fashioned into barely a bra that covers her tits. Which, might I add, are still heavy and luscious, despite her weight loss.
I don’t think my hands would recognise her with the absence of the baby fat that I used to be addicted to. I’ve also never seen her bare so much skin. I don’t even think I saw this much when she was actually naked under me, and certainly never in public. I wouldn’t say she is skin and bone, but I can definitely see her ribs, and there’s no more meat on them. She’s tiny. Blinking, I try to work out whether this is a good or bad thing. I know she has always had her hang-ups about her body, but this seems drastic. It’s too much, too soon, and I can’t help but wonder how the hell she did it without anyone noticing.
‘Looks like fatty got fit,’ Joel leers beside me. I’m disgusted to hear those words come out of his mouth and show my disdain by shoving him forcefully. Amity has never been fat or overweight. It sickens me that this is what my friends think about her. ‘What? You know it’s true. She’s been a fat fuck forever,’ he hollers, but I’m far from laughing.
Before I can deck him within an inch of his life, Billie's shrill voice cuts my attention. ‘She’s such a slut!’ She holds up her phone for the rest of our group to see.
‘What’s going on?’ I ask, pouring water over my head to cool down from my pulse racing over seeing a barely clothed Amity, my fury over Joel’s fat shaming and Billie’s incessant need to put her ex-friend down.
Her squinting blue eyes hone in on me.
‘What, your precious Amity hasn’t told you what she’s been up to in LA?’ she sneers, practically spitting the words out.
She knows I’ve had no contact with her, but I bite anyway, curious to see what she knows.
‘No. She hasn’t. But you seem to think so, so tell me what it is I haven’t told you?’ I try to keep my tone as neutral as possible.
Rolling her eyes, she chucks her pink, polka-dotted phone at me. ‘See for yourself,’ she scoffs.
It takes a minute for me to process what I’m seeing.
My mouth falls open at the YouTube screen. I’m confused, but then I remember Dad’s conversation about lingerie, interviews and some sort of big break.
Amity is in a black silk robe that’s open at the front, and is wearing a delicate, silver threaded see-through bra and panty set with diamond-encrusted heels. Her face is dolled up, no doubt thanks to her mum, and her hair is in sensual waves down her back. In one hand, she’s holding a make-up brush as a makeshift microphone, while her other rests powerfully on her hip. I don’t know who the other Amazon model is next to her, but I’ve definitely seen her face before. She is married to an NFL player, I think.
I’m in a trance as I stare at Amity’s mini waist, flared hips, plump breasts, and much to my utter envy and dismay, her bare pussy behind the sheer fabric. She has a sultry look on her face as she captivates her interviewee, who is giggling in glee at her questions. I don’t even hear the interview, too transfixed on Amity’s aura and how natural she is, like she’s been doing this her whole life. She’s always wanted to be a journalist. I just never imagined it would be like this. At the end of the interview, she blows the camera a kiss, her mouth sparkling with whatever gloss she has on. It’s a mouth that I’ve kissed a thousand times.
Somewhere between us breaking up, me breaking her heart and her breaking through her body issues, she became indestructible. Infallible. Even more incredible.
As I continue to stare in shock at the clip automatically replaying, my windpipe feels like it has just been crushed. If this is what it feels like to see her scantily clad and moved on, I can’t even imagine what it would have felt like for her to see me practically fucking a nearly naked Billie in the flesh.
‘Jesus,’ I whisper. The clip has eighty-five million views and counting, with countless comments from pricks underneath, shooting their shots.
‘Have you even seen her Instagram?’ Billie spits. Wordlessly, I shake my head. I made it a habit not to check, after she blocked me on everything. ‘She’s such a whore! See for yourself!’
There’s a blue tick next to her name, and she has over ten million followers. My thumbs automatically click the first square. A still image of her between all these supermodels pops up, each one of them in fuck-me lingerie that begs to be torn off. Amity’s face is that of an angel. The only thing that sets her apart is her height; she is significantly shorter than the rest.
Just as I’m about to toss the phone back to Billie, I see comments from rockstars, actors, famous sports stars and celebrities, all singing her praises. The one that irritates me the most is from well-known playboy actor, Lewis, who’s more than twice her age. Even so, somehow young girls flock to him.
@AmityHartBrasAndStars Can’t wait for my interview with you, gorgeous 3 Lewis
@Lewis Pinch me that I get to interview you. See you on the yacht soon! 3 AH
Okay, so the fucker is an Oscar winner, has been in no less than five of my all-time favourite movies and is basically a fucking idol of mine. Whatever love I’ve had for him is swiftly replaced with hatred.
I stare sullenly at her caption and am gutted. She thanks her parents, along with her bestie, Lily, for helping her through the toughest year of her life.
It’s only now that I realise that our future will no longer be together.
Today, the end of high school marks the end of an era.
The end of us.