Chapter 4
Viv
My phone buzzes with an SOS as I leave class. My first thought is that it’s Mickey, and he’s ready to tell me about what was bugging him last night, so I plop my ass down on a bench at the edge of campus and open my messages.
The alert isn’t from Mickey. It’s from Izzy, one of the girls on my cheer squad.
I guess it’s not technically my squad any more, since the season ended in January, and I’m about to graduate.
But that doesn’t really matter. These girls will always be my girls, and if they need me, then I’ll do whatever I can to help.
Izzy’s text is cryptic, which is no surprise. The girl loves suspense and it takes her ten minutes to tell a two-minute story.
Izzy: Code Red. Code Red.
Viv: I forgot my emergency color chart at home again. Dammit. Remind me what red is.
Izzy: Red is symbolic of blood, so it’s a code for cheaters because when I find Dawson, I’m going to beat him to a bloody pulp and then I’m going to claw his eyes out. Maybe I should start with his eyes?.
Izzy: He cheated on Maddie G and she’s devastated.
Sierra: Yeah. And he cheated on her with Lynley, and that makes it ten times worse.
Oof. It’s a lot to take in. And Sierra’s right.
Being cheated on is bad. But being betrayed by your teammate?
That’s worse, and I should know. It happened to me freshman year, and it sucks.
There’s no way I can make things better for Maddie G right now.
That will take time and a lot of self care and patience.
But there is one thing I can do.
Viv: Sleepover at my place at eight. I’ve got the snacks. Just bring pillows and blankets. We’ll make a pillow fort. Oh, and if she still has any of Dawson’s stuff, like a t-shirt, maybe, swipe it and bring it. We’ll burn it in a ceremonial rite of passage.
Pocketing my phone, I hang a left and walk toward the parking garage. I was going to kill an hour at Drip, but if I’m having an impromptu slumber party at my dorm, then I need to make a quick trip to the grocery store to stock up on treats.
And having a sleepover also means I’m staying at my own place tonight, which means I should probably give the sheets a wash. And there’s something else I should probably do, too.
Viv: Just checking in on you. I hope today is better and that you start feeling like yourself again. Being in a funk sucks.
Mickey: I’m gonna be okay. And thanks for the breakfast sandwich. <3 I was starving when I woke up.
Viv: Microwaved it myself. Just wanted to give you a heads up that I’m staying at my place tonight. One of my girls just found out her boyfriend’s been cheating on her, so we’re having a sleepover and burning his shit. I might even make cupcakes. Feel free to stop by.
Mickey: If you’re starting a fire, I probably shouldn’t be there.
Viv: We’re doing it in the courtyard. I might even just roast his shit on the grill. That’s safe, right?
Mickey: Why are you asking me?
“He’s a jackass. And you’re way better off without him. I never liked him anyway. The guy has a beard, but no mustache. That’s just weird. I said what I said.”
Sierra finishes her speech, and we raise our cupcakes in a toast. This might not have been an official Bainbridge Cheer event, but you wouldn’t know it.
Everything’s color-coordinated, our tie-dyed shirts are drying out on my balcony, and we made a banner drenched in glitter that says Cheaters Suck!
We’re pausing for snacks because we’ll need the fuel if we’re going to try out that spell book that Izzy bought off Etsy.
I didn’t need a reminder that most people aren’t meant to be monogamous, but the universe decided to send me one anyway.
I truly feel bad for Maddie G, but at least she’s moved on from distraught to angry.
That’s a good sign. I’ve been there, so I know it gets better, but I also know it’ll take time.
And for me, it took a change of attitude.
I let go of all my childhood plans and fantasies, and decided to embrace the reality that being one half of a couple isn’t everyone’s destiny.
Sure, it’s worked out for my best girl, Maggie, and a bunch of my other friends, but that doesn’t mean it’s for me.
One look at Maddie G. is enough to remind me that I’m never setting myself up for that kind of heartache again.
Once upon a time, I was wide-eyed and naive. And I was madly in love with Jace, my high school sweetheart. It didn’t matter that we were at different colleges. I knew we had an unbreakable bond. I knew we were destined to be together even if distance was temporarily keeping us apart.
Boy, was I wrong.
Things were fine at the start of freshman year.
We called every night, and texted all day.
But by the time fall break rolled around the texts and calls were much more sporadic.
That should have been my first clue. I was perpetually optimistic.
Or just plain dumb. I thought we were adjusting to our new schedules.
I didn’t know he was sneaking around behind my back with a girl we both knew from high school.
One night, right before fall break—right before I was supposed to fly to Michigan to spend the long weekend with him—I got a slew of texts.
I was so excited. I knew they were the confirmation I was looking for, the sign that he loved me as much as I loved him, the proof that we were going to be one of those rare couples who made it.
Turns out, I was a fool.
When I opened the first video, I was a little surprised to see Jace’s dick front and center.
It’s not that we hadn’t sexted or sent each other videos.
But we usually prefaced them with the fire emoji or the little devil face.
It was a little heads up, so the receiver would know to look at the video in private.
There was no such warning. But the bad part wasn’t that I was on the sidelines of cheer practice when I got the texts.
The bad part wasn’t even that Jace sent me a series of videos of himself taking care of business.
Nope. The bad part was that he wasn’t alone in them. Cori, a girl we’d gone to school with—a girl I’d cheered with— was sitting on the edge of his bed, watching the show.
And make no mistake, she wasn’t just a random audience member. Nope, she was the target audience. And I do mean that literally. I only watched the full video once, but I saw enough. And I heard him call out her name. I watched him paint her naked breasts with his cum.
I may or may not have screamed What the actual fuck? through my megaphone.
Of course, he hadn’t meant to send the videos to me. He’d meant to send them to Cori, but the jackass sent them to me by mistake
What a dumb piece of shit.
I wish I could get back even half the tears I cried over him. I could probably solve the water crisis, or at least do my part.
Thank god I wised up.
Relationships are completely overrated. Nonmonogamy suits me so much better than being attached to a guy who didn’t deserve my time or energy.
Not that I’ve been getting much action lately.
Jake Lanza and I had an on-again/off-again, no-strings-attached thing going for more than a year now, but we are definitely in the off-again phase.
I haven’t been with him since the end of summer, and don’t miss him a bit.
It’s not that Jake did anything wrong, exactly.
We’ve never been exclusive, so when he’s not with me, I really don’t care who he’s with.
But our last few hookups were pretty lackluster.
He got the job done, but it wasn’t the fun romp I’d gotten used to.
And I certainly don’t want to cuddle Jake or have a deep conversation—he is not that kind of guy.
I take a bite of my cupcake as my phone buzzes.
It’s probably Maggie wanting my opinion on the houses she and JT are looking at in Portland.
The Sasquatch drafted him and they’ve been not-so-patiently waiting for their next star goalie, which means my best girl and her little family are headed west as soon as the semester is over.
Speak of the damn devil.
The texts aren’t from Maggie. They’re from Lanza. It’s been months since we’ve been together, but apparently he’s lonely tonight because he’s blowing up my phone.
Lanza: Wyd?
Lanza: Feel like fucking?
Lanza: I haven’t had your ass in way too long. You should come over.
What a charmer. The crazy thing is, six months ago, I’d have grabbed my bag and been on my way. Tonight’s different, of course, because I’ve got my cheer girlies here and I’m not going to abandon them for a booty call with Jake Fucking Lanza.
But if I’m being honest with myself, the real difference is Mickey. I mean, we’re not together. We’re just the best of friends, so there’s no real reason I couldn’t hook up with Lanza if I wanted to. The fact is, I don’t really want to.
It just feels wrong to share someone else’s bed if I’m sleeping in Mickey’s..
And, yeah, we’re just sleeping, but still. Sometimes we cuddle when one of us can’t turn our brain off and get to sleep. But it’s the same way I’d cuddle Maggie.
I mean, I guess it’s not quite the same. Maggie doesn’t have a colossal dick. Maggie’s never made me come so hard I squirted.
Mickey does, and Mickey has.
Of course, he doesn’t remember any of it. But I do. I remember everything.