It’s Saturday night. The porch light is already on when I unlock the front door at nine PM.
Mom’s gone. Night shift again. The house greets me with that particular kind of silence that only happens when you’re truly alone, not just physically but in every way that matters.
I don’t bother turning on any lights. My feet know the path through the living room, around the coffee table, toward the kitchen where I grab a glass of water I don’t really want.
I’ve been walking for hours. Just wandering around town like some kind of ghost, circling the same blocks, sitting on the same benches, staring at the same storefronts until they closed for the night. My legs ache. My phone’s been buzzing periodically in my pocket, but I haven’t checked it once.
I needed to think.
And I’ve been thinking all week, really. Ever since Ashley made me start pretending to date her at school again.
Here’s what I keep coming back to, the thought that won’t leave me alone no matter how many miles I walk or how many hours I stare at my ceiling: Ashley’s using me.
That’s not news. I’ve known that from the very beginning. She needed a stepping stool to Dante, someone to practice with until she was good enough for him. Now she needs someone to make her mom happy and protection from stalkers. A fake boyfriend shield to keep the creeps away.
Every single thing she wants from me serves a purpose for her.
But then…
Caroline wants to fuck me again. Caroline, one of the hottest girls from my entire high school, had such a good time that first night that she’s willing to cheat on Dante. Actually cheat, not just swing. She sought me out, waited outside my lab, asked me to coffee just to tell me she can’t stop thinking about it.
About me.
And Portia. She wants to own me. Among other things, apparently. She broke into my house. She destroyed her phone when I caught her looking at a creepy picture.
That’s not normal behavior.
So if Caroline wants me, and Portia wants me, and they’re both completely different types of people with completely different reasons... then maybe I’m not actually as much of a fucking loser as I thought I was.
I set the glass down on the counter without drinking from it.
The thing is, I’ve felt so unworthy for so long. Like there’s something fundamentally broken inside me that makes people not want to be around me.
But maybe I’m wrong about all of it.
Maybe I’m not as worthless as I’ve convinced myself I am.
And maybe... maybe I could ask one of these girls for help. Like, actually ask. How do normal people even make friends? I genuinely don’t know. I never learned.
“Hmmm.”
The sound escapes me as I head toward the stairs, my legs protesting the movement after all that walking. My hand trails along the banister as I climb, each step creaking under my weight in the familiar pattern.
I hear it before I reach the top.
Sobbing. Muffled but unmistakable, coming from behind my bedroom door.
I stop on the landing, my hand frozen on the banister. A sigh escapes me because I already know. Of course I know.
Portia.
I turn the handle and push it open slowly. Purple hair spreads across my pillow, and her whole body shakes with each sob. Her face is buried in her hands.
“Hey, Portia.”
Her head snaps up. Even in the dim light, I can see her eyes are red and puffy, mascara running in dark streaks down her cheeks. Her amber eyes lock onto mine, and something fierce and broken flashes across her face.
“I hate you,” she chokes out between sobs.
I don’t react to that. Instead, I cross the room and grab my computer chair, rolling it over to the side of the bed. The wheels squeak slightly as I sit down, positioning myself at eye level with her.
“What’s wrong?”
“You…” Her voice breaks, and she has to take a shuddering breath before continuing. “You kept saying no to me.” The words come out strangled, punctuated by hiccupping sobs. “And I thought... I thought I was over you. I really did.”
I wait, watching her face contort as she struggles to get the words out.
“But then during lab I couldn’t stop thinking about dressing you up in girls’ clothes and now it’s ruining my life!” The confession explodes out of her, raw and desperate. Fresh tears stream down her face. “I feel like you turned the tables on me completely.”
I don’t really feel surprised at this point. I’ve come to expect Portia acting like this.
“Hey, can I ask you a question, Portia?”
She makes this strangled sound in the back of her throat, somewhere between a sob and a gasp.
“What!” The word comes out sharp, defensive.
“How do you make a friend?”
For a second, she just blinks at me.
Then she lunges forward, her hands fisting in my shirt and yanking me toward her with surprising strength. My chair rolls forward slightly, and suddenly her face is inches from mine.
“I’ll be your friend, Vincey!” Her voice cracks. “Just be my toy, please, I’m desperate here, I need you!”
I ignore that completely. My brain’s already moved past it, circling back to the thoughts I’ve been having all week.
“So Caroline wanted to cheat on Dante with me,” I say, and Portia’s grip on my shirt loosens slightly. “Like, actually cheat. Not swing. Just straight up asked me if I was in an open relationship so she could fuck me again.”
Portia’s amber eyes go wide, her tears momentarily forgotten.
“And I’ve been thinking...” I continue, staring at the wall behind her instead of meeting her gaze. “Maybe Caroline could help me make a real friend? Like, she seems nice enough... Besides the cheating stuff I guess. She was really sweet that night. And she clearly wants to spend time with me, so...”
“CAROLINE DID WHAT?!”
The scream is so loud I actually flinch backward in my chair. Portia’s hands release my shirt, and suddenly she’s digging into her cleavage, pulling out a phone and her fingers are flying across the screen.
“I’LL KILL THAT STUPID BITCH!” Her voice hits this pitch that makes my ears ring. “SHE NEEDS TO KNOW HER PLACE!”
I lean back further, watching her completely lose it. The manic energy radiating off her that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“Aren’t you two friends?” I ask, keeping my voice level.
Portia’s head snaps toward me, and for a second she looks genuinely confused by the question.
“Caroline was my favorite toy until I met you.”
“Oh?”
She drops the phone onto my bed and suddenly her hands are cupping my face. Her palms are warm against my cheeks, her fingers pressing just slightly too hard.
“I used to run Caroline’s life,” she says, and there’s this dreamy quality to her voice now. Like she’s remembering something fond. “Everything she did was at my behest, Vincey. I found her sad and alone. I built her up from nothing.”
My stomach twists uncomfortably as I listen.
“And then I put her with Dante,” she continues, and a smile cracks across her tear-stained face. It’s wild, unhinged. “Because I knew she would hate him.”
She starts laughing. This high, slightly hysterical sound that makes my skin crawl.
Then just as suddenly, she’s crying again. The laughter morphs into sobs, and tears are streaming down her face once more.
“But I don’t even care about them anymore,” she chokes out, her grip on my face tightening. “I don’t care about Caroline or Dante or any of my other toys. All I care about is you.”
Before I can react, she’s leaning forward, her lips pressing against my neck. The kiss is wet from her tears, desperate.
“Come on,” she whispers against my skin. “Don’t you want to be my new Caroline?”
I pull back slightly. What she just described, is spot on for exactly how I assumed she acted with people. Portia is a bad person. But she certainly does not hide who she is. And that is admirable in it’s own special way.
“Nah...” I say, keeping my voice steady even though my heart’s hammering. “You should probably be nicer to your friends though, Portia.”
Her hands drop from my face.
“If I had a real friend,” I continue, the words coming out more raw than I intend, “I definitely wouldn’t want to ruin their life.”
Portia goes completely still. Her amber eyes search my face, and I watch something shift behind them.
“Listen,” she breathes out, leaning closer. Her lips brush against my ear as she whispers, “Be mine.”
I start to pull away, but her hands grip my shoulders, holding me in place.
“You won’t even be a toy, okay?” The words tumble out fast, frantic. “I’ll drop everyone else for you. Caroline, Dante, all of them. No more manipulating people. No more games.”
Her breath is hot against my ear, and I can feel her trembling.
“Just let me take you shopping,” she whispers, and there’s something vulnerable underneath the intensity now. “Let me see you put on a skirt and blush.”
She bites her lip, and when she speaks again, her voice drops even lower.
“And then fuck me while you do? Wouldn’t that be fun?”
My brain short-circuits for a second. The offer hangs in the air between us, and I’m trying to process what she’s actually proposing here. No manipulation? No games? And all I have to do is act like myself?
A laugh bubbles out of me before I can stop it. Not mocking, just... genuine amusement at how her brain works.
“I’m not really into crossdressing,” I say, and I can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. “But thank you for the offer, I guess.”
Before I can process what’s happening, Portia’s hands are on me and shes pulling me. Next thing I know I’m on my back on the bed with her straddling my hips. Her weight pins me down, and she’s staring at me with maddened eyes.
She licks her lips slowly, deliberately.
“Then what is it you want, Vincent?” Her voice drops to something almost dangerous. “Tell me what you actually want.”
I stare up at her, trying to organize my thoughts while she’s literally sitting on top of me. My hands hover uncertainly near her waist.
“I just... I just want to be introduced to some nice normal people, I guess,” I say honestly. “Like, people who could actually be my friends.”
Her face lights up immediately. “Okay! Be mine and I’ll do that…” She cuts herself off mid-sentence, her expression shifting. “Wait. No.”
I watch uncertainty flicker across her features as she works through something in her head.
“I want you to just be mine,” she says, and there’s this possessive edge creeping back into her voice. Then she pauses again, her eyes going wide like she’s just had a revelation. “New plan.”
She leans down closer, her purple hair falling around both our faces like a curtain.
“I will be your best friend,” she announces, and there’s this triumphant smile spreading across her tear-stained face. “Okay? Look, problem solved. Right?”
Another chuckle escapes me despite everything. I carefully place my hands on her hips and start to shift her weight, sitting up slowly so she has to move.
“Portia...” I run a hand through my hair once I’m upright again. “I’m never going to be what you want me to be for you.”
Her face hardens immediately, and something cold flashes in her amber eyes.
“That’s so stupid, Vincey,” she says, and her voice takes on this flat, matter-of-fact tone that makes my stomach clench. “I could literally have you killed.”
I blink at her. Then I shake my head.
“Nah, that’s too messy, isn’t it?”
“Oh, you naive little calf.”
I sigh, the exhaustion from all the walking catching up to me. My shoulders slump as I lean back against my headboard.
“Maybe.”
I can’t help but notice talking to Portia is weirdly easy. Maybe it’s because she already knows most of my shit anyway.
“Ashley’s still using me, you know,” I hear myself say, the words coming out before I can second-guess them. “Like, she wanted me to keep helping her practice so she could try again with Dante. But now it’s turned into this whole thing where I have to pretend to be her boyfriend pretty much all the time.”
Portia’s eyes narrow, her weight still settled on my lap. “Why?”
“She says she has stalkers.” I shake my head, staring at the wall past her shoulder. “Says they stopped bothering her once people thought we were dating. And her mom thinks we’re together, so I have to come over for dinner once a week and play the part there too.”
“That’s pathetic.”
“Yeah.” I let out a bitter laugh. “And the fucked up thing is, if she was actually my girlfriend, like for real? It wouldn’t even be hard. I’d be happy to do all of it. But she just wants another shot at Dante eventually. She’s literally using me as a shield and practice dummy.”
Portia tilts her head, studying my face with those intense amber eyes. “You’re still fucking her then? Even after the blood thing?”
“No.” I shake my head quickly. “We’re not fucking now. I told her I couldn’t keep doing the practice thing.”
“But you’re still fake dating her.”
“Yeah.”
Portia shakes her head slowly in bewilderment.
“How the fuck did a loser like you end up with all these women fawning all over you?”
“Yeah, I’m not really sure either.”
I shift under her, suddenly feeling like maybe I should be the one asking questions for once. “Is anything bothering you?”
“Yes.” Her voice comes out flat, immediate. “I have a really annoying crush on an ant that isn’t afraid of my boot.”
“No, I mean anything else. I’m not just trying to dump on you every time we hang out, you know?”
Without warning, she’s falling backward onto my bed, her body sprawling across my mattress with her purple hair fanning out around her head. Her legs are still draped over my lap, but she’s looking up at my ceiling now instead of at me.
“No,” she says quietly. “Life is calm for now. My father is hardly around and mother hates my guts.”
“Why does your mom hate you?”
Portia rolls her eyes, the gesture visible even though she’s staring upward. “Because mother isn’t like me or father. She’s a peasant with peasant mentalities.” Her voice takes on this bitter edge. “She always cries when she sees me excited and asks where she went wrong.”
Something twists in my gut at that. No matter how insane Portia acts, hearing that her own mom treats her like that feels wrong. “I’m sorry you have it rough with your mom.”
“It’s fine.” She waves a hand dismissively, still staring at the ceiling. “I’m used to it.”
The silence stretches between us for a moment, and I watch her face carefully. There’s something vulnerable in her expression that she probably doesn’t realize she’s showing.
“Are you really not going to fall for me?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head, and I watch the vulnerability drain out of her expression.
“Fine!” The word explodes out of her as she scrambles off my lap. “FINE! If you’re not going to appreciate what I’m offering you, then I’m done!”
She’s on her feet now, and before I can even process what’s happening, she’s stomping toward my door. Each footfall hits the floor with deliberate force, like she’s trying to crack the wood underneath her expensive shoes.
“Portia…”
“No!” She whips around at my doorway, pointing at me with a trembling finger. “You know what? You’re the worst! The absolute worst! I came here and poured my heart out and you… you just keep rejecting me!”
I sit up straighter on my bed, watching this familiar scene unfold. “I didn’t ask you to break into my house again.”
“That’s not the point!” Her voice hits this pitch that probably wakes my neighbors. “The point is I’m trying! I’m actually trying for once in my life and you won’t even give me a chance!”
She spins on her heel and storms out into the hallway. I can hear her stomping down the stairs, each step punctuated with what sounds like muttered curses I can’t quite make out.
“You’re going to regret this, Vincent Hayes!” she shrieks from somewhere near the bottom of the stairs. “I GUARANTEE IT! I WILL MAKE YOU RUE THE DAY YOU DENIED ME!”
The front door slams hard enough that I feel it reverberate through the house.
I lie back on my bed. This is the third time she’s done this exact thing. The second in my room, even.
My phone buzzes and I grab it. The screen lights up with a text from an unknown number.
‘This is Portia’s new phone number since you made me break my last one. Also, I still hate you.’
I type back: ‘Did you put the spare key back?’
The response is immediate: ‘NO. I’M KEEPING IT. IT’S MINE NOW.’
Another message follows before I can respond: ‘And so are you eventually. Just you wait.’
I set my phone down and close my eyes as a thought surfaces in my mind.
Portia is my first real friend in college.
“Why did she get a new number… She couldn’t just use the old one? Rich people are fucking weird.”