"So the slut really did have two girlfriends this whole time... makes sense, I suppose. Three-on-one isn't exactly uncommon either."
I sneered at my phone screen, scrolling through his new Instagram post. The caption sat under the photo like a slap:
"Happily owned by my two favorite goddesses!!"
He winked at the camera, flashing that cocky little peace sign, squeezed between two tall women—one a blue-eyed blonde with arms like a boxer, the other a stunning brunette with perfect smile. Of course they were gorgeous. Of course he looked stupidly happy.
All the comments were kissing his ass—
"Congrats king!!"
"Y'all look amazing together!"
"So happy for you!"
Blah, blah, blah. Corny shit. He'd be better off posting the thirst traps he used to drop—the ones that real women actually jill to.
I scrolled further, rolling my eyes, until one comment made me snort out loud:
"We don't care lmao, keep posting horny pics. Bulges preferred."
I laughed to myself, shaking my head.
Guess I wasn't the only one indulging in a little eye candy.
I hit send on the reply—
"based af."
The little bubble popped up confirming the comment posted.
God, I hoped Noah didn't bitch out and block me again. Seriously, every time I breathe wrong he acts like I'm the villain in his horror movie. Dramatic ass. It's not my fault he's hotter than sunlight on metal.
I stretched my neck, cracking it, then scrolled further down his feed, back to prime era Noah—before he became a domesticated little puppy for those two Amazons. Back then he posted real thirst traps: low-angle mirror selfies, towel around his waist hanging like it was one exhale away from disaster, jawline sharp enough to carve initials into wood. The good era. The era when I could scroll through his profile like a museum of sin.
I stopped on one post—
Him wearing loose gray shorts (the slut shorts) and a white crop top that clung to him like it owed him rent. His hair messy, like someone had just dragged their fingers through it repeatedly.
I swear he knew what he was doing—tilted hip, hand running through his hair, lips parted just enough to look like he was about to say "ruin me".
The comment section was a riot.
Women thirsting like they hadn't had water in years, drooling openly. I was scrolling past the usual heart emojis and wolf-howl comments when I saw it—big bold letters from someone with a profile pic of a girl in sunglasses smiling at the camera:
"You'd look so good wrapped around the arms of multiple black women, get a spade tattoo on your tummy!!"
I lost it.
A choking half-scream laugh ripped out of me, loud enough to scare my cat off the couch.
These bitches were unreal.
I wiped my tearing eyes, still giggling like an idiot.
"Honestly though... that'd be hot as fuck."
The mental image flashed through my mind—Noah covered in bruises and bites, getting tossed around like a ragdoll. I wheezed harder. The internet was unstoppable.
"Gosh, what the fuck... why are they so weird..."
I groaned into the quiet living room, my thumb aggressively refreshing the screen even though I knew it wouldn't help. I was sprawled across the couch, still half out of breath, my whole body heavy and relaxed from earlier. The house smelled faintly of soap and steam, Bella's shower running in the background like white noise.
Elara's fingers absentmindedly combed through my damp hair, her nails scratching lightly against my scalp in that way that always made my brain melt.
"What's wrong, Noah?" she murmured, voice low and sleepy, leaning her chin over my shoulder to see.
I turned the screen toward her—comments on my newest post. Weird, obsessive shit from strangers. People acting like they owned me.
"Girls keep commenting weird shit," I sighed. "I'm so tired of it. I don't even post anything wild and still—just constant creepy comments. I'm done with it."
Elara slid the phone from my hands, scanning through the thread with brows furrowed.
"Christ..." she muttered, thumb flicking fast. A muscle in her jaw twitched.
Then she looked at me again, tone much softer.
"Would it bother you if I suggested you deactivate for a little bit? Just to breathe?"
She pressed a slow kiss against my cheek, her lips still cold from drinking water earlier.
I exhaled hard, the frustration leaving my chest in one long breath.
"Yeah... I think it's for the best. It just sucks," I admitted, voice low. "Even when I post something positive—something wholesome—I still get harassed. It feels like I can't escape it."
Elara didn't hesitate. She wrapped her arms fully around me, pulling me into her chest, and started kissing up my neck—warm, soft, grounding, like she was trying to erase every stupid comment with each kiss.
"I'm sorry, baby," she whispered against my skin. "People are weird. You don't owe them anything. Just forget about social media, okay? Focus on us. We love you. That's real."
I nodded and leaned up to kiss her, her lips tasting faintly of mint toothpaste and the lingering burn of the earlier whiskey she'd had. My heart steadied.
The shower shut off, footsteps padding lightly down the hallway.
Bella walked into view—wearing nothing but blue shorts she borrowed from Elara, no top either, skin still glistening with leftover droplets. Her damp hair clung to her neck and shoulders, framing her sharp features. She looked ethereal and dangerous at the same time.
"I heard everything."
Her voice was soft but fierce. She came to my right side, slid onto the couch and pressed a kiss to my cheek, her skin warm and fresh from the shower.
"I'm sorry you're dealing with that, Noah. Elara's right—just focus on us, okay? You don't need strangers. You have us."
Her hand slipped around my waist and pulled me into her body heat, and I sank between them like I belonged there—like they were armor on both sides.
Elara stood, stretching lightly and brushing hair behind her ear.
"Alright, my turn to shower," she smiled. "Don't fall asleep without me."
I nodded again, obedient and safe, melting deeper into Bella's hold as Elara disappeared down the hall.
For the first time in hours... I felt calm.
Bella's arms tightened around me, her cheek resting against the top of my head as the distant sound of the shower filled the quiet house. The room felt dim and warm, lit only by the soft lamp in the corner, a golden glow brushing against our skin.
"Feels nice doesn't it?" Bella murmured, her thumb stroking the side of my face. "Nothing to hide, just us three. Love is... nice. I didn't think I'd ever have a boyfriend—much less share one."
There was a softness in her voice I wasn't used to hearing, something fragile and almost frightened beneath the strength. Hearing that from Bella of all people was surreal.
I remembered every rumor—the girl who snapped a locker door in half over some girl calling her crazy, the girl who dragged someone by their hair across the gym floor for talking shit, the girl who nearly choked another student out until teachers pulled her off. A monster, they said.
Yet right now she looked anything but. Her blue eyes were warm, glossy, trusting. Not a monster—just someone who spent her life building walls and finally found someone worth letting inside.
"Yeah," I breathed, feeling my chest tighten. "Funny how the world works."
I tilted my chin up, inching closer. She leaned down without hesitation, meeting me halfway. Our lips connected gently this time—no urgency, no hunger, just a slow, steady kiss filled with relief. Her hand cupped my jaw, guiding me deeper into it while her other arm wrapped around my waist, keeping me close like she never wanted to let go again.
When we parted, she rested our foreheads together, eyes closed like she was memorizing the moment.
"I never thought I'd get to feel this," she whispered, her breath warm on my lips. "I thought love was for everyone else but me."
I slid my hand up the back of her neck, fingers weaving into her damp hair.
"You deserve it, Bella. You always did."
The bathroom door opened softly, steam drifting out as Elara stepped into the doorway, towel slung around her neck. She paused, watching us with a faint smile—not jealous, not angry, just... proud. Like she was seeing her family come together right in front of her.
"You two look happy," Elara said quietly, voice thick with affection. She walked toward us, kneeling in front of the couch. Her fingers brushed through my hair.
"No more hiding. No jealousy. No fear," Elara murmured. "Just us three."
Bella kissed the top of my head and exhaled shakily.
"Yeah," she said. "Just us."
I sank into their touch, their warmth, surrounded—protected and loved.