Chapter 3
GAbrIELA
By the time everyone leaves, I’m almost too exhausted to check my journal. Or maybe I’m too unnerved. The thought of Romeo reading my most vulnerable thoughts to use as ammunition against me—stings.
Regardless, I put on a brave face and crack it open. To my horror, I discover that he left me notes in the margins as I flip through the pages.
Why do they deserve the effort?
Are you waiting for permission? Fine, I’ll give it to you.
It’s not your job to make other people feel comfortable.
Ever considered telling them to fuck off?
No is a complete sentence, Gabi.
I continue to read his observations of my character, how I handle conflict, and what makes me anxious. To my dismay, they go on for the entirety of the journal, which I’ve been keeping all year.
When I finally reach a blank page, I see that he’s also left a drawing.
Romeo is a talented artist, and I’ve always admired his work, but this one cuts deep.
It’s an image of me alone, knees curled into my chest, looking like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders as I hold up a mask of my own face. Around me, he’s drawn an assortment of chaotic thought bubbles.
Did I smile enough?
Don’t make it weird.
Just act normal. This is fine. Everything’s fine.
Why are they making that face? Did I sound rude?
Eye contact, Gabi.
This is exhausting.
I can try harder.
I need to scream.
Time to go home and overanalyze this.
I wish I could just turn my brain off for a while.
It’s so painfully accurate, it feels like a sucker punch to the gut, and at first, I think this is a new low for him. But then I see the arrow, and I turn the page to find another image labeled Gabi 2.0: System Update—You Don’t Owe Them Anything.
This time, I’m sitting cross-legged with Beppe in my lap while I read a book and drink a cup of tea. I’m happy and relaxed, and there’s only one thought bubble above my head.
Who gives a fuck what they think?
It feels out of character for him and oddly…sweet.
There was a time when Romeo knew me better than anyone. He understands the history with my family, and he knows I internalize my distress.
When I was young, I learned masking was the only way to survive in a family that didn’t care for me. A natural side effect of that was people-pleasing—because putting everyone else’s comfort and needs above my own avoided conflict.
In a way, it feels like Romeo is telling me I don’t have to do that anymore. But I can’t let myself fall into this trap. Everything Romeo does, no matter how puzzling, has a simple explanation.
He hates me, and he wants me to suffer.
I close my eyes and release a shaky breath, resisting the familiar urge to sink into a pit of despair.
When my phone buzzes on the nightstand, it offers me a welcome distraction. I pick it up, finding that I’ve missed some messages on Discord.
Eros415: Ignoring me?
Eros415: Shark meme.
Eros415: Shark emoji.
I smile at the screen, glad to see he’s still online.
BiteSizedGabi: Hi. Sorry, I had people over.
Eros415: People, hmm?
Eros415: I don’t like it when you deprive me, Gabriela.
I shiver at those words, imagining what he must sound like in person.
BiteSizedGabi: How can I make it up to you?
Eros415: Tell me the best part of your day.
BiteSizedGabi: I’m settled into the new place now. So that’s one less thing to worry about.
Eros415: And the worst?
I hesitate, considering how honest I want to be. We’ve had conversations about a lot of different things, but I haven’t told him much about my past or the people in my life. It’s not that I’m hiding anything, but it hasn’t come up.
BiteSizedGabi: I saw an old friend today. We don’t get along anymore, and every time I'm around him, I end up feeling bad about myself.
Three pulsing dots pop up on the screen as he starts typing, then disappear. A minute passes, and I wonder if I overshared again. Then, finally, the dots return.
Eros415: He sounds like a dick.
I stare at the screen, tempted to defend Romeo. But ultimately, I decide to change the subject.
BiteSizedGabi: What was the best part of your day?
Eros415: Talking to you.
I smile like an idiot.
BiteSizedGabi: You always say that.
Eros415: Because it’s always true.
BiteSizedGabi: And the worst?
The pulsing dots appear, then pause again before he responds a minute later.
Eros415: I broke something I really like.
That message feels cryptic, but his usually are.
I type out a message, delete it three times, and enter it again, hovering over the send button. My heart pounds in my chest as I try to gather the courage. Then finally, I just go for it.
BiteSizedGabi: Would you ever want to meet?
He reads the message, but doesn’t reply right away, and as usual, I start to overanalyze.
BiteSizedGabi: Just casually. Not like a date or anything. I was thinking we could find a way to keep it anonymous if we want.
Wait, did that sound like I never want anything to happen between us? I chew on my lip, scrambling to type another message.
BiteSizedGabi: I’m not saying only friends. There could be more. Just not…a relationship. Does that make sense?
“Oh God,” I mutter. “I am so bad at this.”
Eros415: Is this your way of telling me you just want to fuck me?
His blunt observation sends a rush of heat through me. I’m not sure how he’ll feel about it, but I answer honestly.
BiteSizedGabi: Maybe? Is that something you’d be interested in?
Eros415: Who is he?
BiteSizedGabi: Who?
Eros415: The reason you want to keep things casual.
I shift uncomfortably, not sure how to respond to that.
BiteSizedGabi: It’s complicated.
I just don’t want to get my heart broken...again.
A minute passes, followed by another four, and I’m starting to think I screwed things up when my phone rings. His name flashes across the screen, and I realize he’s video calling me.
“Oh God.” I panic, flailing around in bed as I sit up and try to smooth out my hair.
I don’t even know what I look like right now. I already took my makeup off, and I haven’t had time to prepare for this scenario.
With that in mind, I aim the camera at the ceiling and answer the call.
“Feeling shy?”
The altered voice sounds like it’s straight out of a horror movie, and it takes me a moment to understand he’s using some kind of modulator.
It’s…disturbingly hot.
“I don’t have any makeup on,” I say. “I’m in bed, and I probably look terrible—”
“Gabriela.”
I’m not sure how it’s possible, but that one admonishment from him sends a shiver down my spine.
“Show me,” he orders. “You said you wanted to meet.”
“I didn’t mean right now.”
“Show me, or I’m hanging up,” he threatens. “You have five seconds.”
“Wait!” I reluctantly pull my face into view, only to be greeted by a Ghostface mask and a black hoodie in a dark room.
“Oh.” My lips part.
“I take it that means you like it.”
I nod slowly. Too slowly. I think my brain just melted.
“Sorry,” I murmur. “I didn’t realize it was a costume party.”
A sound of amusement filters through the modulator. “You said you want to keep things anonymous.”
I relax against the headboard, curling my knees into my chest. “I’m not very good at small talk,” I warn him. “I do better when I write things out.”
“That’s okay,” he muses. “We can just stare at each other.”
“To be fair, I’m not great at eye contact either. Not at first, anyway.”
“Then it’s a good thing you can’t see mine.”
A beat passes, and I can feel him studying me from beneath the mask. It makes me nervous, but mostly because I don’t know if he’s picking me apart.
“Am I what you expected?”
“You’re perfect,” he answers darkly.
Another flush crawls over me, and I hope he doesn’t notice.
“Want to play a game, little shark?” He sinks back into his chair, sprawling out in that casual way men do.
“What kind of game?”
“Secret for a secret?”
I chew on my lip as I try to think of one.
“I’m terrified of storms,” I admit.
There’s a long, silent pause as he watches me, and without seeing his face, I have no clue what he might be thinking. I’m not sure if I should remind him it’s his turn, but when he finally speaks, it sounds like a confession.
“I think about you way more than I should.”
“Why does it sound like you wish you didn’t?”
“Because I shouldn’t.” His voice dips. “I’m not a good man. Not for you.”
I twist the blanket between my fingers as I consider that. “Are you trying to warn me away?”
“Yes.”
“But does it really matter if we keep things casual?”
He releases a breath. “I don’t do casual, Gabriela. If I touch you, I’ll ruin you.”
Disappointment settles over me, snuffing out the small spark of hope I had. I wanted it to be him. We’ve talked about it so much, it seemed like a strong possibility. But I can’t fault him for being honest.
“I understand.”
Tension stretches between us, and I hate that everything feels messed up now. I never should have asked him, but I can’t undo it.
“It’s late,” he tells me. “You should get some sleep.”
I nod, wondering if this is goodbye forever. Will I even hear from him again?
“Goodnight,” he murmurs.
I muster up a sad smile. “Goodnight.”