6 Cassius
Reasons to be Frustrated
I knew suggesting this date was a bad idea the second the words left my mouth. Just us, no Zae. I promised her. I can’t bail again this time.
Even I know that much.
At the time, it felt like the right thing to say. Like something a decent boyfriend would offer when his girlfriend was visibly hurt and saying she hadn’t seen him “without your shadow” in weeks.
Now all I can think about is the way Zae’s smile thinned when I told her I had to see Stacey first. She’d played it off like always.
But there was this flicker in her eyes—like knowing I was going to see the person who hurt her feelings was killing her—that I can’t unsee.
By the time I pull into the lot by the coffee shop, that image is doing laps in my brain.
I turn off the engine and just sit there with my fingers still wrapped around the steering wheel.
I’m supposed to be a good boyfriend right now, taking my girlfriend on a date.
Drink some overpriced coffee with her and ask about her classes.
Pretend I’m not picturing Zae talking about needing a guy to fuck her brains out.
My grip on the wheel white knuckles at the thought, hitting harder than it should.
I’m an idiot.
I blow out a breath, pry my fingers off the leather, and climb out of the car.
The bell over the coffee shop door jingles as I step inside. It smells like espresso and that weird sweet cinnamon spray they use around fall, even though September isn’t until next week.
Stacey’s already at the front window table, exactly where she said she’d be. Hair straightened, lip gloss on point, nails done, wearing a top that probably violates three different social dress codes. She looks every inch the girl who should have an easy, uncomplicated boyfriend.
Her face lights up when she sees me. She stands, smoothing her shirt.
“Hey,” she says, smiling brightly. “You made it.”
I force my shoulders to unknot and walk over. “Told you I would.”
She leans in and kisses me. It’s soft, practiced... familiar. It’s also muted, like someone sucked the color out.
“Got your usual.” She gestures back at the table. “Since you were almost late to our no Zae date.”
There’s a little teasing edge on the words, but it’s not a joke. I hear it.
“Yeah.” I force the words out as casually as I can. “Thanks.”
We take the last couple of steps to the table, and that’s when I see them.
Two girls are already sitting there. One with sharp eyeliner and perfectly curled dark hair. The other with a messy bun, a bright pink lol shirt, and sunglasses pushed on top of her head even though we’re inside.
Stacey’s friends from her sorority. The ones who’ve never bothered to hide that they think I’m a walking red flag with a best friend problem.
My stomach drops instantly.
“I thought this was just us,” I note, tone tighter than it should be.
Stacey’s laugh is too quick, and a little brittle. “It is. They’re just hanging out for a bit before they go. It’s not a big deal.”
Eyeliner Girl looks me over like she’s checking a price tag. “Wow. He actually came.”
Messy Bun smirks. “And without the barnacle. Impressive.”
I clamp my jaw shut before something ugly slips out too fast, dropping into the empty chair. My coffee is already there, and I immediately wrap my hand around it just to have something to do.
Eyeliner Girl props her chin on her hand as she watches me. “Relax, Cass. We’re just surprised. Every time we see Stacey’s stories, you’re either at work, at the park, or glued to Zara.”
“Zae,” I correct automatically because she hates being called Zara even if it is her actual name. Just like I hate being called Cassius.
“Right. Zae.” Her mouth curls in a way that has me gripping my cup tighter. “Your little shadow.”
“She’s not my—” I start, only to be cut off.
Stacey puts a hand on my arm. “They’re kidding. Don’t be tense.”
I look at her fingers on my forearm and then at her friends.
They’re not kidding. Not even a little.
Messy Bun sips her drink and then decides to add her unwanted opinion. “Honestly, it’s kind of wild. Most people lose touch after high-school, but not you two. Helping her move, taking her to your mom’s house—”
“She and my mom are close,” I defend, feeling as though I need to even though I shouldn’t. “It’s not weird.”
“It’s weird,” Eyeliner Girl cuts in sunnily. “If my boyfriend was that obsessed with another girl, I’d be pissed too.”
What the fuck is this? Some kind of intervention?
I feel my fingers tighten around the cup, squeezing too tight. The plastic gives a little under the pressure.
I’m supposed to be here to make things better with my girlfriend. To show Stacey I take us seriously. To prove to her—to myself—that I’m not always picking Zae over her. Instead, I’m already at a ten on the anger scale and I’ve been here all of three minutes.
Why do I keep doing this?
Stacey doesn’t want me. She wants a project to fix. She’s the epitome of but I can change him.
“Can we not make this about Zae?” I try to keep my voice as even as I can. “I came so I could spend some alone time with my girlfriend.”
Messy Bun raises a brow. “That’s the issue, right? Zae’s always around. It’s never just you and her.”
Stacey’s cheeks go pink, looking between me and them. “I just… want to feel like a priority sometimes,” she adds softly. “Like I matter to you just as much.”
Guilt hits me hard.
I can’t keep this up.
I’m seeing that now.
“I’m here,” I promise softly, but it feels half-hearted. “I left her at her dorm, getting ready for a party. You have me for… however long you want.”
Eyeliner Girl snorts. “Until Zara calls,” she mutters under her breath, but I catch it, trying not to let it get under my skin.
“She’s not going to call. She’s fine,” I argue. I swear, all these girls are rage bait.
Zae said she was fine. She looked like she was swallowing glass when she said it, but she said it. And she’s stubborn enough to prove it.
Messy Bun gives me a look over her lid. “She’ll text, then. And you’ll run. Same thing.”
Stacey winces again like she feels bad, but I know. I know deep down this is exactly what she wanted. She likes being the center of attention. The victim. The one fought over, or fought for.
It’s why she’s broken up with me so many times already.
“Guys…” she starts, half-heartedly trying to stop us from arguing. “Let's talk about tonight's charity event we're hosting instead.”
I feel my patience thinning, my shoulders drawing tight again.
“You know nothing about her,” I counter, ignoring Stacey because I’m over this shit. “Or about us.”
Eyeliner Girl laughs like I made a joke. “We know enough. We know Stacey barely sees you without her attached because she’s so clingy.”
I feel my jaw lock. My grip on the cup tightens again. Cold coffee presses up against the plastic, ready to burst.
“She’s not clingy,” I say quietly, defensively.
My vision sharpens in a way I recognize now from group. Sounds get too loud, and my heart starts kicking harder.
In. One, two, three, four.
Hold. One, two, three, four.
Out. One, two, three, four, five, six.
“Okay.” I manage to get out with an even tone. “We’re done with this part of the conversation.”
Eyeliner Girl raises her brows. “Touchy.”
“You dragged me out to talk about us.” I turn to look at Stacey, addressing solely her. “We can do that. But I’m not going to sit here and let your friends shit on my best friend.”
“I didn’t drag you,” Stacey says defensively. “You suggested this.”
That’s fair. I did.
“I suggested a date. You said you wanted just us. No Zae. I agreed. I did not realize that meant ‘me and your friends making fun of her.’”
Messy Bun lets out a little scoff. “No one is ‘making fun’ of her. We’re just saying what everyone’s thinking. You guys are a lot.”
“Too much,” Eyeliner Girl adds. “It’s not healthy, Cass.”
My hand crumples the cup. Cold coffee spills over my fingers and onto the table, dripping onto the floor.
Heads turn. The barista looks over.
Stacey sucks in a breath. “Cass—”
“Don’t say that.” My voice is low and way too steady. “Don’t sit here and act like she’s some annoying noise I should turn off. You don’t know her. You don’t know what she’s survived. You don’t know what it costs her to get out of bed some days.”
Eyeliner Girl leans back, eyes wide. “Jesus. Overreact much?”
Stacey’s eyes are shiny now. “This is what I mean.” Her voice wobbles dramatically as she speaks. “I can’t even tell you how I feel like second place without you jumping down my throat about her.”
Anger surges, then it collides with guilt.
“That’s not why I’m upset. I’m mad you act like the solution is for me to push her out. She’s not the problem.”
“I didn’t say push her out,” she argues, her voice taking a new tone. One that makes it sound like I’m being the asshole for defending Zae. Maybe I am. “I just… want my boyfriend to go one weekend without her acting like the world ends because he’s not there to tuck her in.”
The words hit my chest and it gets tight again, because Zae doesn’t do that. She never asks me to ditch Stacey to hang with her. I end up doing that on my own.
“She doesn’t think the world ends if I’m not there. She thinks she’s the problem for needing anyone at all.”
Messy Bun rolls her eyes. “Wow, dramatic much? Maybe you should date her then.”
Eyeliner Girl snorts. “He basically is.”
Something inside me snaps like a board under too much weight.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I tell Stacey, eyes focused on hers, searching for something. I’m not even sure what. “If the only version of me you can live with is the one who doesn’t answer when she’s having a bad day, I can’t be him.”
Her face goes flat, color drained. “So that’s it?” she whispers, jutting her lower lip out less than an inch. “She wins.”
“This isn’t a competition. There is no winning. There’s me not abandoning my best friend when she needs me. Just like I wouldn’t abandon you whenever you might need me.”
The whole table goes quiet.