[chapter trigger warning: assault]
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I let my cereal fall from my spoon and plop into the milk. Over and over. Scooping. Dropping. Scooping. Dropping. I didn't sleep a wink last night. If I did then I wouldn't be able to tell.
What happened with Nate is branded on my brain. Along with guilt and shame, and most of all—and most conflicting—want.
There isn't a trace of anything different in the kitchen. Derek must have swept the glass up. But ignoring this isn't an option. Sweeping it under the rug this time isn't an option.
Rob walks in first, followed by Nate and a quick thrill in my gut. We make eye contact for an everlasting second. The tension is oozing in the air, but he strolls right through it, helping himself to cereal like Rob is doing.
He looks drawn. Did he not sleep either? Does he feel guilt and shame? Did he look my brother in the eye and act like everything is normal? Judging by Rob's complete calmness, yes he did.
I hear Rob talking. I don't know to who and I don't know what he's saying, because I'm focused on Nate standing in the very place he stood last night. Next to the island, where he had moved between my legs.
I watch him pull up a stool and drag his bowl over the surface he'd lifted me onto. His long fingers graze over it, palms pressing down for a lengthy moment. I can almost feel them pressing to my thighs. His lips on mine, his skin on mine. The ache in my chest is growing so fast I need to not look at him, so I stuff a spoon of cereal in my mouth and stare out the window.
"Morning." Derek's voice grabs my attention back. "Everyone sleep well?"
Rob speaks over mine and Nate's mumbling. "With the knowledge of this being the last day of waking up early? Like a damn baby. If it weren't for this break, I'd be on the verge of a fuckin' breakdown, I swear."
"Language," Mom snaps as she walks in.
She pours her coffee as usual, void of any knowing looks thrown my way. Derek hasn't told her. Yet. Maybe he thinks it was a dream. That the possibility of catching his darling stepdaughter cheating on her boyfriend is ludicrous. That his mind must have been playing tricks on him. He's carefully looking from me to Nate, getting a read between the lines. Nope, he knows it was real.
After breakfast when Nate goes out front to wait for Rob, I'm stopped on my mission to talk to him.
"Lia. A word?" Derek gestures me into the living room, lowering his voice. "Have you and Matt broken up?"
I stare at my feet to hide my blood rush, giving my head a tense shake.
Derek sighs. "Listen, kiddo, I don't know what's going on with you and your friend... well, not friend, apparently... but I know this isn't like you. You're at a hard age, navigating feelings and all that. But at the end of the day, honesty is the best policy."
God, did he stay up all night reading a parenting blog?
"For all parties involved," he continues. "You have to be honest with yourself, too. Ending a relationship is something you'll likely do in life, and it seems like that's going to be sooner than you thought. But that responsibility is yours. The one you choose to end it with? That can only be your choice. And unfortunately no matter what, someone will get hurt. You can't avoid that."
He pats my arm and sends me on my way. Someone will get hurt. In actuality, can anyone walk out of this without getting hurt?
I check the time on my phone, my throat tightening when I see the happy picture of me and Matt on my lock screen. I cheated. I'm no better than my dad. No better than Alex. I cheated. The only difference? They didn't care about the people they cheated with.
I don't know if that's better or worse. If you don't care, you've damaged your relationship for nothing real. If you do care, your heart has been with someone else. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.
I step onto the porch, and there's Nate, smoking under the tree. My heart wallops against the cage of my chest. Desperate to break free. Desperate to be with him.
"Nate." I walk up, snapping him from thought. "We should really talk."
He sighs out a cloud of smoke, a heavy weariness etched on his face. "Yeah, we should."
"Last night—"
"Was a mistake. I know, Lia." He rubs his eyes. "We both know."
My heart pinches, shrinking into its cage. "A mistake."
"It was late, we weren't thinking clear. It never should've happened, and I'm sorry. I know how important your relationship is and I never meant to fuck with it again." He ashes his cigarette, dropping his chin. "I don't know if you're gonna tell him, but I won't say anything. It can just be like last time."
I blink the burn in my eyes away. Last time. When I wasn't a rebound, but I wasn't someone he fought for. When me choosing to date someone else didn't bother him. When I wasn't someone he wanted outside of one night.
Everything and nothing has changed.
"Cool, yeah I was thinking the same," I say tightly. "Just a heat of the moment sort of thing."
He looks up, but his eyes don't quite meet mine. "So we're on the same page. And... us being friends, I don't want to lose that, Lia. Not for anything."
"Right. Me too. Same page."
He nods, taking another drag before he says, "Maybe this winter break is a good opportunity to not see each other for a while. Reset things, you know?"
His gaze skips over my head a second before I hear the honk of Matt's car. That sound alone makes my stomach churn. Nate eyes him hard, frowning at the next aggressive honk.
"You should go before he blows out the horn."
Moving my mouth muscles into a smile is painful. Leaving his eyes is agonizing. Getting in Matt's car is excruciating.
I guess Nate proved me wrong. One of us can walk out of this without getting hurt. I just didn't think he would be the one who did the hurting.
〰️〰️〰️
I must be on my fifth lime by now. Slicing them up like a programmed lime slicing robot. A car screeches outside the window, pulling up in Matt's driveway. More people arriving. I've been acting like everything is normal all day, trying to find the right time to tell him. A party with all his closest friends is not the right time.
Honestly, I'm on the fence about telling him at all. It's not the same as it was in September. The betrayal is so much deeper. Matt isn't just a crush - he's my boyfriend. Who I love. And Nate isn't just a fleeting night with my brother's friend - he's my friend too. Sure, he doesn't want me as anything more, but he's still my friend.
He doesn't want me as anything more. He doesn't want me. Why doesn't he want me?
The blade of the knife hits the cutting board, slicing through that string of thoughts with the last lime. I can't let myself go there. And I don't think I'm physically capable of keeping this from Matt. The guilt that's eating me will consume me entirely, as it should. I deserve it.
I add the slices to the pile in the bowl, ready to be taken to the drinks table in the living room. Not that I'm going to do that. Slicing limes has been keeping me busy while I hide out in the kitchen, but now what?
I hear Rachel's scream-laugh she does when she's drunk. She's out there with Harris, and I can just picture them slobbering all over each other. I haven't told her anything. As of now, what happened is a secret between me, Nate, and Derek of all people. Probably my mom by now, too.
I pick up my gin and tonic, downing the rest of it in a couple of gulps. Then I raid the fridge for whatever leftovers Grayson has made. I think about the last time I was here, when Grayson was cooking omelettes for brunch. The Bensons call him by his first name, but the talking stays food related. He's their chef. Their employee. He comes up with menus, they approve it and place their orders, done and done.
I remember the look of confusion on his face when I asked him about his family. Like he was a ghost who had glided around, suddenly being acknowledged for the first time in an eternity. He'd gushed all about his little girl. Shown me photos of her and his wife. All while cooking up a delicious storm. I helped him, too. Chopped some chives, grated some cheese. Matt's mom found it odd.
Matt didn't like it either. He said it wasn't my job to cook here, but I got the feeling that socializing with Grayson was the thing he didn't approve of. Like it should've been beneath me.
I take out a fork and a container of baked ziti, not bothering to heat it up. What's the point? My appetite has been crappy. Everything has tasted bland today. I'll stay in here stalling, stuffing myself with food and drinks. I can't feel sicker than I already do anyway.
"Little Lia."
Spoke too soon.
Carter is waltzing in. He's balanced, but I can tell he's been drinking. "Late night snack, huh? Mind if I get in on that?"
"Free country," I mutter.
He grabs a fork, sidling in next to me. He smells like a brewery. "Everyone's wondering where you are, and this is what you're doing? Kinda sad."
"No one's wondering where I am."
"I was," he says, digging his fork in. "And here you are, eating sad, cold pasta. Are you sad, Little Lia?"
I take a bite, watching him slowly blink. He can barely lift his eyelids.
Carter smiles as he chews, watching me right back. "Wait, course not. New York on the books? You must be looking forward to finally getting your cherry popped. If there's even a cherry to pop, I mean."
I choke back a gag, clunking down my fork. "Matt told you I'm not going."
"Mm. He also told me you'll give him a definite answer by the end of the weekend." He moves his fork in front of my face like a clock hand, singing, "Tick tock, tick tock, Lia's getting her cherry popped."
"Can I ask you something, Carter? Seriously?"
"Yessir."
"Do you ever get embarrassed about the things that come out of your mouth?"
He leans down, glassy eyes glinting. "Do you ever get embarrassed about the things that come into your mouth?"
"Wow. Guess that answers my question."
"You're smiling! Man, I actually got a Lia DeMarco smile. Feels like I struck gold."
"I'm not smiling."
"Beg to differ." He glances at my lips. "How's it feel smiling for me?"
"Like I might have just triggered the plague."
He chuckles, shifting into an intent stare I'm all too familiar with. "If you do end up going to New York, what say you give me a little something to remember you by? To keep me company while you're gone."
I throw him a questioning look.
"Don't get me wrong, your dirty donation was great, but I feel like you can do better." He pats the phone-shaped lump in his pocket. "You'll be the hottest girl in there."
I think back to when I deleted the video of me and Nate in the pool - all those nude photos I glimpsed.
"You're joking."
He tilts his head, the slightest, smuggest smile playing on his lips. I can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of what he's asking me.
His smile fades, seeming to darken the light of the kitchen. "I'm not joking, Lia."
"Why would I—I already gave you what you wanted, why would I give you anything else?" I make a move to leave but he mirrors my step.
"It doesn't have to be hard. Take a picture, send it. Actually, forget sending it. I can just take it right now."
He reaches over and attempts to lift my top before I swipe him away. "Cut it out."
He tries again, grasping the material, and I'm suddenly back at Rachel's house and he's all over me. But now he's pinning me into a kitchen counter, his hot breath in my ear.
"Can I ask you a question? Seriously?" His hand pushes under my top, over my skin. "What's it like being the biggest cocktease in Oceanview?"
I struggle against him as he presses my back into the edge of the counter. It's cutting off my oxygen. Thoughts running, temperature spiking. I'm shoving at his chest and he doesn't move an inch. I'm yelling at him to stop and no one can hear. He gropes my bra so hard I yelp, and then I swing my hand back and I feel something cool and pointed. I gasp and jam the fork into his arm with all my strength.
"Jesus!" Carter jolts back, ripping the prongs from his bleeding skin. "You crazy bitch!"
His dark eyes flash, the fork clattering to the floor as he makes a start for me, but then he's gone just as fast. Matt is slamming him into the fridge, holding him up like a dangling puppet.
"The hell are you doing?!" he spits in his face.
"Me? She fucking stabbed me!"
"For good reason!" Matt shoves him into the fridge door again with so much force I think he makes a dent. The vein in his neck is bulging.
"No, you don't get it, bro!" Carter wheezes, frantically shaking his head. "I've been trying to help you! She begged me not to say anything, she just attacked me 'cause I told her I was done hiding this!"
"Hiding what?" Matt's face whips to me. "What's he talking about?"
"I—I don't—" My voice cracks. I'm panting too hard. Straining to get a grip on Carter's angle.
"I wanted to tell you, man, I swear! Just watch, okay? Watch." Carter fumbles in his pocket for his phone, and my heart sinks.
He hits play. Matt watches five seconds before he releases him, grabbing the phone to focus closer.
Carter stumbles over to me with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. "How stupid do you think I am?"
I let the counter hold my weight, taking in the echo of my own words from when I deleted—thought I deleted that video.
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