I lingered on the phone, trying to listen out for David’s breathing. When I realized David wasn’t hanging up either, I bit my lips so the sound of my racing heartbeat wouldn’t escape and notify David of my nerves. I didn’t know what to say. I could’ve stayed on longer, but a text from Jeremy popped up and my instinct was to immediately hang up.

JEREMY: [I’ll be a little late. Maybe around ten? Sorry. My group study session is going later than usual.]

CALVIN: [That’s fine. I’ll just order a pizza or something.]

JEREMY: [You’re the best]

That little text stuck to my heart like a little splinter, it was a pinch of pain. It was small enough to cause irritation and too small to find and pick out for relief. The splinter just stayed there, constantly on my mind. Sighing, I peeled myself off the ground to prove David was wrong and the floor wasn’t made for my mental breakdowns and trudged up the stairs to my room. Nibbler and Daisy hustled behind to keep up. They always needed to be near me when I was home. Sometimes Nibbler would cry if I left her out of the bathroom when I needed to shower. 

I think she thought the shower was trying to murder me. 

Reaching for my favorite sweats, I yearned to achieve ultimate comfort, but I remembered Jeremy said he hated the way people kept old over-washed clothes. My tired bones cried out in disappointment as I reached for a nice pair of jeans and a button up shirt instead. 

“This year,” I told Daisy as I changed. She was snuggled up beside Daisy on my bed, purring loud enough to shake the air. “His mother will probably buy us matching pajama sets for Christmas. She did it for Jeremy’s brother, Mathew and his girlfriend last year once she made it past the six-month threshold.”

Lowering to my hind legs, I explained this to Daisy with a finger up to indicate how serious of a matter this was. “This also means, I’ve been accepted, which is good because unlike my other boyfriends, Jeremy really cares about what his family thinks. So…” I pushed his finger into his chest. “I have to care.” 

This was true. 

Before we were official, I heard Jeremy say his mother had a formula for the perfect man:

1. He must have tidy hair.

2. Must be sincerely polite.

3. And must always keep his word.

That last rule might have been inspired by her first two failed marriages before settling for Jeremy’s father. And by settling, I mean she went from the kind of guy that owned yachts to the guy that owned a whole island. The only difference was the age of the money and the reputation of the name. Honestly, I admired the hustle.

So, I kept my hair neat.

Said please and thank you. 

And did anything Jeremy asked me to do. 

“Jeremy’s oldest brother got married on the beach. It’s like a family tradition, I think. Do I like the beach? No—” I caught myself as if someone from Jeremy’s family could hear me. “But I don’t hate it. I mean, it’ll be fun. Our families would be together. That’s what matters…”

Closing my eyes, I could imagine the black suits, the flowers, and the stringed quartet. I imagined greeting my future husband for the first time on my wedding day. I’d turn and I would meet his melty dark eyes, so full of warmth and love and the way the sun would hit his warm brown skin and how time would stop—

My eyes popped open.

I was imagining David! I threw myself on the bed and screamed a series of curses into my pillow. I was a traitor. Against my own self-preservation. Against all good sense. The only villain in this story was me and I deserved what was coming to me. 

When I touched things, good things, people, it was like I left a stain and usually, these people scrubbed me off to save themselves. I never wanted to stain David. He was too good. Too beautiful to ruin with my emotional baggage and clinginess.

My phone buzzed.

A text from Gretchen:

GRETCHEN: [I thought you and Jeremy were back together]

Quirking my brow, I threw the covers off my bed and sat up. I had to read her words a couple of more times before I realized it in a language I could understand it.

I finally texted back:

CALVIN: [We are???? What do you mean?]

Gretchen sent a picture with the caption: [THIS].

I clicked on the attachment and saw Jeremy in Gretchen’s living room, holding a solo cup, and wearing an amused expression. He didn’t look like the tussled hair, wedding at the beach type at all. He looked like the slick with sweat from sex, motorcycle riding, and cheating on his boyfriend type. On Jeremy’s arm was a handsome guy, leaning up and kissing Jeremy’s jaw. 

I blacked out. 

When I resurfaced, my blue hair changed to a fire engine red, and I was standing outside of Gretchen’s house with the party glaring back at me. My phone hung by my side. The incriminating evidence brightening the night.