The car door feels heavier than it should when I push it open.
My legs are stiff from sitting too long in that uncomfortable hospital chair, and I stumble slightly as my feet hit the pavement. The night air hits my face, cold and sharp, cutting through the fog in my head. Ashley’s car idles in front of my house, the engine purring softly in the quiet suburban street.
This is it. This is probably the last time I’ll ever hang out with Ashley. Hell it might be the last time I ever see her for the rest of my life.
The thought sits in my chest like a stone, heavy and immovable. We got what we wanted, right? We both fucked the people we were supposed to fuck. The arrangement is complete. Mission accomplished.
I turn back toward the car, and Ashley’s already looking at me through the window. Her face is cast in shadows from the streetlight behind me, making it impossible to read her expression.
“I’ll see you on Monday,” she says, her voice flat through the open window.
Monday. English class. Right. I’m so tired I forgot…
“Yeah.”
I stand there for a second longer, my hand still on the car door.
“Are you alright for the night?”
Ashley’s quiet for a beat too long. “No.”
The honesty of it catches me off guard. My throat tightens, and I lean down slightly, trying to see her face better.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” She says with genuine exhaustion.
I nod slowly. “Okay.”
“Bye, Vincent.”
“Bye.”
I close the car door and step back onto the sidewalk. Ashley’s car pulls forward, the red taillights growing smaller as she drives the fifty feet or so into her driveway next door. I watch her park, watch the headlights cut out, but I don’t see her get out. Maybe she’s sitting there in the dark, processing everything that happened tonight.
I turn toward my house, fishing my keys out of my pocket. The porch light is off, which means Mom’s still at work. Night shift at the hospital. She won’t be home until morning.
I unlock the front door and step inside, letting it close behind me with a soft click. The house is dark and quiet.
I don’t bother with the lights as I make my way through the familiar layout. My feet know the path to the stairs by heart.
My bedroom door is already open. I push through and head straight for my bed, my body moving on autopilot.
I fumble with my belt in the darkness, my fingers clumsy as I work the buckle loose. My pants hit the floor with a soft thud, and I kick them aside. My phone goes on the charger on my nightstand, the screen lighting up briefly with more missed notifications from Portia that I ignore.
I reach for the covers and pull them back, ready to just collapse and let unconsciousness take me.
My hand hits something solid. Something that definitely shouldn’t be there.
“Ow,” a voice grunts.
Every muscle in my body goes rigid. I yank the blanket back further, my eyes struggling to adjust. There’s a shape in my bed. A person-shaped lump that’s moving.
I can barely make out purple hair in the dim light filtering through my window.
“What the…” I jolt backward, my hip slamming into my desk. “Portia?!”
She sits up slowly, and I can just barely see the outline of her face in the darkness. Those amber eyes catch what little light there is, making them glow like a cat’s.
“You’ve been ignoring me, Vincey.”
My heart is hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat. “Portia, what the fuck are you doing in my house?”
She shifts, moving to sit on the edge of my bed like this is the most natural thing in the world. Like she belongs here. Her legs dangle over the side, bare feet touching my carpet.
“You didn’t answer any of my texts or phone calls,” she says, and there’s something sharp underneath the casual tone. An edge that makes my skin prickle.
“Did you break into my house?” My voice comes out higher than I want it to, panic bleeding through.
“My father is a billionaire, Vincent.” She tilts her head, and I can hear the smile in her voice even if I can’t see it clearly. “I’d hardly use the word ‘break in.’”
“That’s not… that doesn’t make it okay!” I’m still pressed against my desk, my hands gripping the edge behind me. “You can’t just... How did you even get in here?”
“You had a spare key in a fake rock. That feels more on you than me.”
My jaw clenches so hard my teeth hurt. “This is my house.”
“I’m aware.”
The casual way she says it makes my blood boil. Like she’s commenting on the weather instead of admitting to breaking and entering.
“Portia, get out.”
She stands up from my bed, and I can see her silhouette moving closer. My body goes rigid, every muscle tensing as she approaches.
“I thought we had an understanding?” Her voice is soft, almost hurt.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
She’s close enough now that I can make out more details of her face. There’s something intense in her expression, something that makes my stomach twist uncomfortably.
“You were supposed to make me your whole world,” she says, and there’s this earnestness in her tone that makes my skin crawl. “And I’d fix you. Remember?”
I stare at her, my brain struggling to process what she’s saying. “Was that your takeaway?”
“You were crying into my chest, Vincent.”
“Yeah, no shit,” I snap. “I’ve had a tough week.”
“So then I own you, right?” She says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like she genuinely can’t imagine a universe where that isn’t true.
I shake my head, anger and exhaustion and desperation all mixing together into something that makes my throat tight. “Portia.” My voice breaks on her name. “Please. Just let me go to bed. I’m so tired. I’ve had such a stupid night.”
She doesn’t move. Just stands there, staring at me in the darkness.
“You went to Dante’s tonight.” Portia’s voice cuts through the darkness like a knife. “Had sex with Caroline. And then he came blood inside your fake girlfriend?”
My blood runs cold. “How did you know that?”
“Because Caroline is a good, obedient toy who answers my fucking phone calls.” Her voice takes on this edge, sharp and possessive. “Unlike you. You unruly little thing.”
Something snaps inside me.
“Portia, I’m not your toy.” My voice comes out firmer than I expect. “I don’t even particularly like you that much.”
The silence that follows is deafening. I can see her silhouette go completely still, like I’ve just slapped her across the face.
“What?” The word comes out strangled, disbelieving.
“Yeah.” I push off from the desk, standing up straighter even though my legs are shaking. “You seem like a bad person.”
She takes a step back, and I can hear her breath catch. In the dim light, I watch her expression shift through about five different emotions in the span of two seconds. Shock. Hurt. Confusion. God only knows what else.
“A bad person,” she repeats, and her voice has lost all its usual confidence.
“You broke into my house, Portia.” I gesture around my dark bedroom, my hands trembling. “You keep calling me your toy. You talk about Caroline like she’s some kind of... of possession.”
“I was trying to help you!” Her voice rises, defensive now.
“By breaking into my house? By stalking me? I don’t even know what your mad about.”
“I was going to tell you not to follow through tonight,” Portia says, her voice taking on this desperate edge. “I was going to stop you from going.”
“Why?”
“BECAUSE I OWN YOU!” The words explode out of her, loud enough that I flinch. “YOU’RE MY PET NOW, VINCEY! YOU DON’T MOVE AN INCH WITHOUT ME TELLING YOU. AND YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO FEEL GRATEFUL FOR THAT!”
I stare at her silhouette in the darkness, my brain struggling to process what I’m hearing. The sheer audacity of it almost makes me laugh.
“Does that usually work?” I ask, and I can hear the disbelief in my own voice. “You throw some guy some attention and then you own them?”
Portia goes completely still. The silence stretches between us, heavy and oppressive.
“Hand to God, Vincey...” She pauses, and I can hear her swallow. “Yes. This is the first time anyone has ever denied me.”
I shake my head slowly, a bitter laugh escaping my throat. “Man, being rich must be crazy.”
“Vincent…”
“No.” I cut her off, moving toward my bed. I’m so tired my bones ache. “You need to leave. Right now. I’m going to sleep, and when I wake up, you’re not going to be here.”
“But…”
“Portia.” I turn to face her, and something in my voice must finally get through because she actually takes a step back. “Get. Out.”
Her hands are clenched at her sides like Arthur, but somehow even tighter.
“You can’t just...” she starts, but her voice trails off.
“I can. I am.” I sit down on my bed, suddenly not caring that she’s still in my room. I’m too exhausted to care about anything. “Leave through the front door. Put the key back in the fake rock. And don’t come back.”
Portia’s voice shifts taking on a panicked edge. “I’m sorry I broke in, okay?” The words tumble out faster now, desperate. “But come on, Vincent. Don’t you want to play with me? Doesn’t it sound fun? I could hold your leash, and you’d do what I say, and…”
I don’t respond.
I just turn away from her, crawl into my bed, and face the wall. The sheets are cool against my skin, and I pull them up over my shoulder. My eyes close, and I focus on breathing. Just breathing. In and out. Pretending she’s not there.
“Vincy?” Her voice comes from behind me, sharper now. “Vincey, are you seriously just going to ignore me?”
I keep my eyes closed. Keep breathing.
“This is ridiculous!” The panic in her voice morphs into something else. Something hot and angry. “You can’t just... I came all the way here! I waited for hours!”
My silence must be the final straw because suddenly I hear her foot stamp against the ground. Once. Twice. Like a child throwing a tantrum.
“Fine!” The word comes out as a shriek that makes me flinch despite myself. “FINE! Be that way! See if I care! I don’t even like you! You’re just some friendless loser!”
I hear her moving, fast and jerky movements as she storms toward my door. Her footsteps are heavy, deliberate, each one punctuated with anger.
“You’re going to regret this, Vincent Hayes!” she shouts from the hallway. “Nobody says no to me! NOBODY!”
More stomping. Down the stairs. I can track her progress through my house by the sound of her fury.
The front door slams so hard I swear the whole house shakes.
Then silence.
I lie there in the darkness, my heart still pounding, waiting to make sure she’s really gone. Minutes tick by. Five. Ten. Nothing but the sound of my own breathing and the distant hum of the refrigerator downstairs.
My phone lights up on the nightstand.
I don’t look at it. I know who it is.
Instead, I pull the blanket tighter around myself and stare at the wall. The adrenaline is starting to fade now, leaving behind this bone-deep exhaustion that makes my entire body feel like it weighs a thousand pounds.
What a fucking night.