I’m sprawled on my bed, staring at my phone. The screen shows Portia’s contact info, her number sitting there like a loaded gun. She made me save it before dropping me off at my car. Didn’t say much during the drive back, just kept glancing at me with this satisfied smile while I sat there feeling like I’d been wrung dry.
I lock my phone and toss it onto my nightstand.
There’s a strange lightness in my chest, like someone took about seventy percent of the weight I’ve been carrying and just... removed it.
I still feel like shit. A good chunk of that misery is still hanging around like a bad smell. But it’s not crushing me anymore. I can actually breathe without feeling like my lungs are full of concrete.
I roll onto my side, pulling my hoodie tighter around myself even though the room isn’t cold.
Maybe Portia fucked the sadness out of me. Or maybe it was the crying. Hard to say which did more. Either way, something shifted. The constant anxiety that’s been clawing at me has dulled to a manageable throb instead of a screaming siren.
Maybe crying is based, actually?
Saturday’s coming whether I want it to or not. Ashley’s going to fuck Dante. I’m going to fuck Caroline. Then it’ll be over. Done. Finished. I can wash my hands of this entire mess and try to move on with whatever pathetic excuse for a life I’ve got left.
That’s the play, right? Just rip the band-aid off. Get it over with. Stop dragging this out like some kind of emotional torture session.
Then afterward, I can mourn Ashley properly. Like actually mourn her. Not this half-assed pining I’ve been doing where I’m still sleeping with her while knowing she’s going to disappear the second she gets what she wants. I’ll let myself feel like shit for a while, cry it out, whatever. Then I’ll bury it and stop caring.
I have to stop caring.
A sigh escapes me, long and heavy. It fills the quiet room and dies just as quickly.
The door to my bedroom suddenly swings open without warning.
I jolt upright, my heart hammering against my ribs as Ashley walks in like she owns the place. Which, I guess, her family kind of does have a claim to with that spare key arrangement our moms set up years ago.
“You didn’t ring the doorbell?”
Ashley shrugs, closing the door behind her. “I figured you wouldn’t care.”
I stare at her for a long moment, trying to read her expression. Her excitement makes my stomach twist uncomfortably.
“Alright...”
She crosses the room and plops down on my bed with way too much enthusiasm, the mattress bouncing slightly under her weight.
“I just wanted to go over the game plan for Saturday,” she announces, folding her legs underneath her.
“Okay.”
Ashley leans forward, her eyes practically glowing. “Alright, so we’ve gotta break them up. That’s the whole point, right? So you’ve gotta try your best to woo Caroline. Make her fall for you. Really sell it.”
The words hit me like ice water. “I’m not gonna do that, Ashley.”
Her expression shifts immediately, confusion replacing excitement. “What?”
I sit up straighter, forcing myself to hold her gaze even though every instinct is screaming at me to look away. “I’m not breaking someone else up. I helped you set this whole thing up. I’ll fuck Caroline on Saturday. But after that, I think I’m good.”
“But...” Ashley’s eyebrows draw together, her voice rising slightly. “Aren’t you like in love with Caroline?”
Something about the question makes me want to laugh.
“I think that crush was surface level in hindsight,” I say, and the words feel surprisingly true as they leave my mouth.
Ashley stares at me like I’ve just told her the sky is actually green.
“So what, you’re gonna not pretend we’re dating and fuck this up for me at the finish line?”
“No.” I shake my head, keeping my voice steady even though my hands are trembling. “If you want to break them up, that’s on you. I’ll do my part. But I’m not going to try and manipulate Caroline into anything.”
Ashley stands up, her jaw tight. “Whatever.” She crosses her arms, and there’s an edge to her voice. “I doubt you could have anyways.”
The words sting more than they should.
“I’ll drive us over together,” she says flatly. “Saturday. I’ll pick you up.”
“Okay.”
She stands there, staring at me. Her mouth opens like she wants to say something else, but nothing comes out. The silence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating. I can see something working behind her eyes, some thought she’s wrestling with.
“Are you mad at me?” she asks finally, her voice quiet.
“No,” I say, and it’s true. I’m not mad. I’m just ready to be done.
She looks at me again, like she’s trying to find something in my face that’ll give her answers I’m not offering. Her green eyes search mine for what feels like an eternity.
“Alright...” she says slowly. “See you Saturday then.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
She turns and walks out, the door clicking shut behind her. I hear her footsteps on the stairs, then the front door opening and closing. Then nothing.
I sit there in the silence, staring at the spot where she was standing.
“I hope Saturday doesn't make this harder...”