Chapter Nine
Jonah
She wasn't answering.
I'd called fifteen times, texted twenty, and Lindor wasn't fucking answering.
Because she was with him. With Axel. Probably in his bed right now, letting him touch her, kiss her, fuck her.
The thought made me want to put my fist through a wall.
I sat in my car outside the venue, my hands shaking with rage and something that felt dangerously like panic.
This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go.
I was supposed to show up with Chelsea, keep up appearances, and then find Lindor later and explain.
She would have been upset, sure, but she would have understood. She always understood.
Except she hadn't understood. She'd called Chelsea a skank, kissed Axel in front of everyone, and walked out without looking back.
And now she was with him.
My phone rang, and I answered without looking. "Lindor?"
"It's Chelsea."
I closed my eyes. "What do you want?"
"Seriously! What do I want. I want the guy that brought me here tonight. You asked me to come, Jonah. You said you needed a date for your friend's party, and then we told everyone we are a couple."
"I know what I said. And I told you from the beginning that this meant nothing."
"I got called a skank in front of everyone, and I had to watch you chase after another girl while I stood there like an idiot."
"I'm am sorry that happened!"
"Sorry doesn't fix this!" Her voice cracked. "I like you, Jonah. I really like you. And she clearly doesn’t want to be with you."
Guilt twisted in my gut, but it was quickly overshadowed by anger. "You knew the deal. Don't pretend you didn't."
"What?"
"You saw me checking my phone. You knew I wasn't fully present, but you ignored it because you wanted this to be real. Even after me setting the rules to begin with. This is on you."
There was a long silence. Then, "Fuck you, Jonah."
She hung up.
I threw my phone onto the passenger seat and scrubbed my hands over my face. This was a disaster. A complete fucking disaster.
I needed to fix this. Needed to talk to Lindor, make her understand that tonight was a mistake, that Chelsea meant nothing, that she was the one I wanted.
But first, I needed to get rid of Axel.
I pulled out my phone and called Freddy.
"What?" he answered, his voice cold.
"I need your help."
"You've got to be kidding me."
"Freddy, please. I know you're pissed, but I need to talk to Lindor, and she's not answering my calls."
"Maybe that's because you humiliated her and she doesn't want to talk to you."
"She's with Axel."
"I know."
"And you're okay with that? You're okay with your sister being with some guy she barely knows?"
"I've known Axel for years. He's a good guy. Better than you, apparently."
"Freddy—"
"No. You don't get to do this. You don't get to fuck up and then ask me to help you fix it.
" His voice was hard. "You humiliated my sister tonight.
You brought another girl to my party, introduced her as your girlfriend of six months—the exact amount of time you've been secretly fucking Lindor—and you expect me to what? Help you get her back?"
"It's not like that—"
"Then what is it like, Jonah? Because from where I'm standing, you're a piece of shit who wanted to have his cake and eat it too. You wanted Lindor in secret and someone else in public, and now you're pissed that she called your bluff."
"I was protecting her!"
"Protecting her?" Freddy laughed, bitter and sharp. "You were protecting yourself. You didn't want anyone to know because then you'd have to actually commit to her. You'd have to be a real boyfriend instead of just someone who sneaks into her bed when it's convenient."
"That's not fair—"
"Fair? You want to talk about fair? You know what's not fair? Watching my sister's face when you walked in with Chelsea. Watching her try to hold it together while you paraded another woman around like Lindor meant nothing. That's what's not fair."
My chest tightened. "I didn't mean to hurt her."
"But you did. And now she's with someone who actually wants to be seen with her. Someone who kissed her in front of everyone and didn't give a fuck what anyone thought. So no, Jonah, I'm not going to help you. You made your choice. Live with it."
He hung up.
I sat there in my car, staring at my phone, feeling everything crumbling around me. This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go. I was supposed to keep things under control, keep Lindor happy while maintaining my freedom, keep everyone in their proper place.
Instead, I'd lost her.
To Axel fucking Princeton.
I called her again. Voicemail.
Again. Voicemail.
I texted: Please, Lindor. Just talk to me. Let me explain.
Nothing.
I love you. You know I love you.
Nothing.
Don't do this. Don't throw away what we have for some revenge fuck.
The three dots appeared. My heart leapt.
Lindor: What we HAD. Past tense. And Axel isn't a revenge fuck. He's someone who actually respects me. Lose my number.
I stared at the message, rage and panic warring in my chest. She couldn't be serious. She couldn't actually choose him over me. We had six months together. Six months of intimacy and connection and—
My phone buzzed again.
Lindor: And for the record? He's a much better fuck than you ever were. Enjoy Chelsea.
I threw my phone at the dashboard, watching it bounce off and land on the floor. My hands were shaking. My whole body was shaking.
This couldn't be happening.
I picked up my phone—screen cracked now, perfect—and called Chelsea.
"Jonah?" She sounded hopeful. Pathetic.
"Come over."
"Really? I thought—"
"Just come over. Now."
I hung up before she could respond. If Lindor wanted to play games, fine. Two could play. She wanted to fuck Axel? I'd fuck Chelsea. I'd post pictures. I'd make sure she saw exactly what she was missing.
Except even as I thought it, I knew it was bullshit. I didn't want Chelsea. I wanted Lindor. Wanted her fire and her attitude and the way she looked at me like I was the only person in the world who mattered.
I wanted her back.
But she was with him. Right now. Probably in his bed, probably letting him touch her the way only I was supposed to touch her, probably—
I couldn't think about it. Couldn't let myself picture it or I'd lose my fucking mind.
Chelsea showed up twenty minutes later, still in her party dress, makeup smudged from crying.
"I'm sorry about tonight," she said as soon as I opened the door. "I shouldn't have pushed—"
"It doesn't matter."
"It does matter. I feel terrible. She called me a skank in front of everyone, and I deserved it. I knew you were together, we could have had our thing seperately—"
"Chelsea." I grabbed her face, kissed her hard. She tasted wrong. Felt wrong. Everything about this was wrong, but I couldn't stop. "Stop talking."
She melted into me, and I hated myself for it. Hated that I was using her. Hated that even now, all I could think about was Lindor.
We fucked on my couch, quick and meaningless, and the whole time I imagined it was her. Imagined Lindor's red hair instead of Chelsea's blonde. Imagined her smart mouth and sharp tongue instead of Chelsea's breathy moans.
When it was over, Chelsea curled against me, and I felt nothing.
"Are we together now?" she asked quietly. "Like, really together?"
"Yeah," I lied. "We're together."
She smiled, kissed my chest, and I stared at the ceiling, wondering how the fuck I'd ended up here.
My phone buzzed. I grabbed it, hoping—
It was Rennedy.
Rennedy: Really, Chelsea. All this begging and I love you’s. You're a fucking asshole, and if you contact Lindor again, I'll make sure everyone knows exactly what kind of manipulative piece of shit you really are. Stay away from her.
I deleted the message.
Then I opened my photos and scrolled until I found one of Lindor. She was laughing, her hair wild, her eyes bright. We'd taken it a month ago, after sex, when she was still soft and open and mine.
I stared at it until my vision blurred.
She was gone. Really, truly gone.
And I had no one to blame but myself.