Chapter 13
Lucy
Maybe because I trusted Mateo, or maybe it was because I'd been intimate and exposed in a way I'd never been before, but I felt comfortable around Silas. I kept expecting my anxiety to pull me under, to stress and overthink and worry about what he was thinking, to feel embarrassment over what happened the night before. But all I felt was ease. He played video games; we talked. I relaxed around him.
I never would have guessed that Silas and Noah were friends with Mateo if I hadn't seen them together. Mateo's never shown that side of himself to me. Teasing, almost. He's always so serious and put together, seemingly the opposite of his friends. And I love that about him, but I liked that soft side too, the vulnerability he showed when he admitted what he wanted from me, from his friends.
I'm still not sure I believe it was all real. These kinds of things don't happen in real life. Your beautiful, rich, intense boyfriend doesn't ask you to date his friends. Maybe, if they're into degradation, if they want a gang bang, or to show you off and share. But this felt bigger than fleeting sexual gratification. Silas showing up to hang out made it real, proving it was about more than sex.
The morning after Silas visited, I was still wrapping my head around everything. Missing Mateo more than ever, and after the way I overreacted when he brought me home, I wanted him to know I was okay, but I was toeing the line with my anxiety, could feel it crawling under my skin, so I had trouble picking up my phone.
I didn't sleep well and as the sun came up I lay in bed, wide awake, and all the what-if's flooded in. What if I misunderstood what they wanted from me? What if they change their mind, or I do? What happens to me and Mateo, then? What if this is the dumbest idea of my life and I'm setting myself up for failure?
The more I let myself think, the worse things got. My phone sat face down on my dresser and I walked past it, stared at it for nearly a minute, then forced myself to keep walking, ignoring the pull to pick it up.
I could post something, anything , with a caption about how hard life is and how not everything is perfect all the time. I'd add hashtags and filters, make the image morose, perfectly capturing my stress, and then I'd sit back and let the comments flood in, reveling in the gratifying relief that I'm not alone, letting the notifications soothe my ego.
And the comments would be real. People would understand. That's the drawback, the problem with the vicious cycle of posting content. It's not all fake. It really is a place you can find people feeling what you're feeling.
The pull from my phone gets harder and harder to ignore until I finally give in around noon. I have to get the address for dinner tonight from Silas, anyway. And I want to text Mateo, to let him know I'm okay. I really do miss him, and having an orgasm in his lap in front of his friends at a sex club didn't exactly fix our relationship, or anything else in my life.
After everything, I've realized that I'm fantastic at living in a bubble. I thought nothing could hurt me, as long as I kept slappin' on a smile and pretending like everything's fine.
Mateo didn't cheat, but I made mistakes by not recognizing Delaney's nature sooner. The pictures of them left me in total shock and despite years of practicing techniques to handle my stress and anxiety, it didn't do shit when I really needed it. I'm not okay, and something still isn't perfect in my little bubble.
Everything I tell myself is an excuse enough to pick up my phone, the little voice in the back of my head telling me I should make one tiny self-deprecating post, so people know I'm not okay.
I just want my old life back. The one from over a week ago, before Delaney ruined my self-confidence, before my boyfriend propositioned me for a foursome, metaphorically exploding my brain.
Just as I'm flipping past the notifications, ignoring all the comments and tags for the time being, I see a text from an unknown number from last night, but before I can open it, there's a banging on the door.
Dropping my phone back down on the dresser, I walk down the hall and pause, wondering if it's Mateo or Silas, or even Noah. Another bang, so I continue on and peek through the peephole.
I grip the door handle harder than necessary and swing it open. " What do you want? How did you even get up here?"
Delaney rolls her eyes. She smells like patchouli, her bracelets jingling as she brushes past me into the kitchen. I slam the door shut and turn to face her. I cannot believe she has the audacity to show up here.
"I'm still on the list of approved visitors." She sips her smoothie out of a plastic straw, touching things on my counter top, like she has the right to snoop around and make herself at home.
"I'm serious, Delaney. What are you doing here?"
"What? We can't still be friends?" She cocks her head, sipping green liquid through a straw and I am so confused, I sputter.
"Delaney, what… what—why—"
"Relax, girl." Then she pulls out a stool and sits down.
It takes a second for my confusion to morph into anger. Longer than it should considering what she did, but eventually, I catch up. "No. No . You can't be here. I don't want you here. Delaney, you need to leave."
I make a point to walk down the short hall and open the door, pointing out into the hallway, but she doesn't follow. She doesn't move at all. She doesn't smile or laugh either, she just lifts her eyebrows, and I feel like the crazy one. Like I'm overreacting.
And it ain't freakin' fair. I slam the door shut and stomp back to the kitchen. "No, Delaney. You don't get to do this. You don't get to come in here and act like I'm the one out of line. We're not friends. You spread blatant lies about my boyfriend and me. Why? I thought we were friends? Why would you do that to me?"
She softens, just barely, but covers it up immediately with that arrogant smirk. "Okay, look. I'm sorry. I came over to apologize."
I wait for the punchline, but it doesn't come. "Are you serious right now? Your apology means nothing. We aren't friends. I want you to leave."
She turns to face the counter, implying she's here to stay. At least until I hear her out. Sighing, I reach into the fridge and grab a seltzer water. I should offer her one. It's polite. She really likes the lime ones, too. But I don't. I crack open the can, pour it over ice. She says nothing, just watches me in amusement.
After a few minutes, I'm frustrated and confused and hurt, so I try again. "What do you want, Delaney?"
"To apologize."
"Okay. Apology accepted. Please leave."
She sets her cup down, props her elbow on the counter and leans into her hand. "Don't you want to know why I did it?"
"I know why you did it. Portia figured it out."
She scoffs, "Enlighten me."
"You did it for the drama. For more followers."
"I did it because I'm your friend. Mateo's not good enough for you. No, he didn't cheat with me, but do you honestly think he's been faithful?"
That's not at all what I expected her to say. And it came so far out of left field, I'm left scrambling my words.
She continues, "Look. I love you, Lucy-bear. I was looking out for you. I'm sorry you got hurt, but I honestly was trying to help."
My brain finally reboots, and I'm enraged. "Yeah, you know what? Stop fucking helping. I don't need your help. Mateo isn't cheating on me. You weren't looking out for me. If you were, you wouldn't have sent those pictures to me, spent the time it took to fake them, made them public. Did you forget you were quoted saying I was the third wheel in your relationship?" I make quote marks with my fingers.
Delaney waves me off. "I actually didn't say that, or make the pictures. This girl who's like a total fucking sycophant has been trying to get me to tag her in a few things, she was the one quoted. The pictures came out, and she said some shit, thinking she was being helpful to me."
"Delaney, I don't believe a word out of your mouth."
She grits her teeth, but her tense expression washes away and she softens, leaning forward. "Babe, I'm telling you, it was all just some big misunderstanding. A stunt that got out of hand. This girl that's like totally obsessed with me, she goes by OMGspeaktome, or something like that—it's so trite—whatever, anyway, she's been trying to get my attention, so she came up with this idea. I told her it was stupid, but she's actually really good with Photoshop, and she made those pictures."
"How'd she get a picture of Mateo's face?"
Delaney shrugs. "I don't know, she probably snapped a pic some night when you were with him. His picture is on the Northeast Global Share website, too. Anyway, she's the one that sent you the pics and made up all that stuff I said. Yes, I knew she was going to do it. At first, I told her not to, but then I started thinking about the way he treats you, and I just thought, you know what? Lucy deserves better."
Then she picks up her cup, making an obnoxious sucking sound with her straw.
"He doesn't treat me poorly, Delaney. And you had no right."
"Please," she snorts. "He's such a dick to you. He ignores you all the time, and no offense, but he's obviously a slut."
"Why obviously?"
"He's always on his phone," she points to one finger, but I cut her off.
"So am I."
She points to a second finger. "He doesn't introduce you to his friends or family. He stays out all night, doesn't come home." She continues listing off suspicious behavior, making me realize how much these things used to bother me, and how much I complained about them to her.
It's all true. Mateo is on his phone a lot. He doesn't come home every night, and before two nights ago, I'd never met anyone in his life, and we live together.
Maybe she's right about some of this. But he's explained a lot of it. He's on his phone a lot because he works a ton, just like I do. As for not coming home every night… the one time I didn't believe him, I found him in his office.
Then again, I did follow him the other night and found him at a sex club.
Admittedly, the surprise and anger at discovering Atrium got washed away instantly once Noah and Silas became involved. But what if I hadn't shown up? What would he have done then? Who would he have spent the night with?
I don't believe Delaney. Or, I don't want to believe her.
I shake my head, "None of this excuses what you did, Delaney. You really hurt me."
Her lips press together, brows furrowing in sincerity. "I'm sorry, Lu. You know I love you, right?" She reaches across the counter and clasps my hands in hers. I pull away too slowly.
We sit in silence before she pushes to a stand. "Alright, I'll give you some space. But I thought maybe we could get together, get a coffee and talk. I just want what's best for you, okay?"
I don't respond. I can't. Because it's not okay, and I don't believe her. But I'm also spinning out. She leaves and it feels like all the progress I made over the last couple of days goes up in smoke. The words Fuck you, Delaney , sit on the tip of my tongue, but I'm just too mentally exhausted to deal with her.
I try to decide what makes more sense; that my boyfriend actually has intense emotional and sexual proclivities that mean he desperately wants to have a polyamorous relationship, sharing me with his friends? Is that really what makes the most sense?
Or, more likely, he got caught at a sex club after we had a big fight… after he was accused of cheating, and came up with an elaborate lie. Sure, cheating with Delaney didn't happen. But the other stuff she said was true. He's gone a lot. He's on his phone constantly. Most likely, he used the situation to his advantage.
I don't know why Silas came over, but if he's Mateo's best friend, maybe he was just trying to save face.
I don't know what to believe. But I feel like a fool.