I update my Facebook to say ‘In A Relationship’ with a small smile on my face and a big pit in my stomach. I tag Mell O’Malley as my boyfriend. Waiting for the attention and comments to come flooding in on the post is giving me peace of mind but there’s a storm brewing in my soul.

I moved to the area a few weeks ago and at the request of my father, immediately integrated myself into the athletic kid crowd at school. It’s easy to join the popular kids when I’ve been trained as a cheerleader for so long. 

It’s not who I want to be and it’s not who I present myself as. I feel like there’s a boy inside me desperately clawing his way out and I just keep stamping him into the dirt of my soul to keep up the appearance that I’m just a feisty teen girl who wears tons of lipgloss and rolls her cheerleading uniform skirts up a little too short so I can catch the boys staring.

Mell and his friends, Scooter and Izaak, are on the football team and took immediate interest in me. The three of them fight over who gets to sit next to me at lunch and who gets to hold my books for me between classes. I feel like at some point I’ll be able to share who I really feel I am with them. Once I get settled into the school district, maybe.

I tuck my phone in my pocket as I finish updating my status as Mell jogs out of Macy’s, looking over his shoulder. He grins at me as he takes my hand and pulls me around the corner into the little alley that connects two sides of the mall with the bathrooms in the middle. “I managed to ditch the twins,” he says breathlessly, pulling me to him.

I put on my best girlish giggle and he leans down to press his lips to mine. A shiver goes up my spine as his tongue gently traces my lips. Despite my whole life and facade being an act, I do feel a genuine and explosive attraction to Mell. “Come on,” I say breathlessly and pull him into the deserted women’s bathroom. 

“They don’t have any pictures together,” I muse, slouched on the couch in the living room of the twins’ and Mell’s place with a bottle of beer to my lips. It’s super late at night and I’m scrolling through Lanie and Mell’s various social media accounts which don’t really seem to be used that much. Mell neglects his almost altogether minus some updates on when his various fights are, and Lanie hasn’t posted anything in a while, since her last video showing off a few different ballet moves. “That’s weird, right?” I look up at Izaak  for reassurance that it’s weird. Izaak is currently lounging next to me on the couch after him and Scooter came back from locking up the gym.

His eyebrow is raised as he looks at me. “Lots of people our age don’t really use their social media these days,” He says with a shrug, taking a sip of his beer, “I think you’re being weird about this.”

“...Nah,” I mumble, refusing to accept that answer, “It’s weird.” I don’t get people who don’t use their social media. I use mine a lot. Recently I’ve been posting pictures of downtown DC and of the punk shows I’ve been going to. Hell, my profile picture right now is myself with Mell and the twins. I sigh and toss my phone aside. “I bet Scooter would agree with me.”

“No Scooter wouldn’t!” Scooter calls, peeking his head out of the kitchen brandishing a batter covered spoon. He started making brownies a couple minutes ago  while Izaak and I hang out in the living room, idly watching Ghost Adventures while I facebook stalk Lanie and Mell– but mostly Lanie. Scooter grins at me. He’s always reminded me of an excited puppy. “I think you just need to accept that Mell is happy with Lanie. There’s so many other people out there for you.”

I make a frustrated sound. “I don’t want Mell back,” I tell the twins, but I feel like I’m more convincing myself of this, “I know there’s plenty of people in the world who I could date.”

“Then stop stalking Lanie online and focus on someone else,” Izaak says with a scoff, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know her that well but she seems like a nice girl. Leave her alone.”

“Where is Mell anyway?” I ask, ignoring Izaak and sitting up straight, “I haven’t seen him all day.” I’ve been worried about him. He’s been elusive in general recently with his mother’s appointments and training for a particularly important fight coming up, and also because he’s been spending all his time at Lanie’s apartment when he’s not busy… 

It’s not like I haven’t been busy either with my new job in The National Center for Missing & Exploited Children, so there’s a chance I’ve just missed him when he’s been home since I have to drive to and from Alexandria, Virginia in my shitty little car every weekday for an entire 8 hour shift. 

Mell and I have been growing closer again which is nice, and this time he knows the real me. He talks nonstop about Lanie though which makes me feel…weird. I don’t want to say jealous but I think I might be. I hate admitting to that, that maybe I do want Mell back after all. That’s part of why I came to find him again after losing all my shit in the fire, to be honest. I don’t let those feelings show when I’m with him, afraid that attitude will push him away. I don’t entirely know how to navigate it but I’ve been trying, and I’ve learned some interesting things in the meantime.

“Can I ask you for advice?” Mell asks me as he sits on top of the dryer. I’m washing the few articles of clothes I have left to my name after being here for a week. We’ve been slowly testing the waters with each other in regards to our friendship since I moved in and I’m thrilled to hear that Mell seems comfortable enough asking me for advice. I don’t think the type of advice I give would do Mell any good, but I’m happy to offer it anyway.

“Um, sure,” I say, pretending to be distracted by my laundry but in reality I’m stoked about this. “What’s up?”

Mell rubs his chin as he thinks of what to say. “So Lanie and I tried to have sex a little bit before you showed up and it didn’t go well,” He starts.

“How?” I ask, interest piqued since I’ve met Lanie like once and I already strongly dislike them. They aren’t confident in themselves at all and take too long making simple decisions. Frankly, they’re a bit of a pussy. But if this is something I can hold and use to my advantage later, I’m more than happy to listen. Maybe I can subtly throw it back in their face and get them to leave Mell without Mell noticing, or get Mell to break up with them. 

“They had a panic attack once we were both naked,” Mell says sadly. “I don’t think it was me… I think they were just really dysphoric.”

I snort, grimacing and crossing my arms over my chest.

“What?” Mell asks, taken aback by my attitude.

I compose myself before talking. “It sucks they are letting that get in the way, is all,” I say with a shrug, “I mean, you and I fucked a few times in high school and my dysphoria didn’t stop me.”

Mell frowns. “But everyone is different. Lanie is really sensitive and insecure. You’re not... I just wanted to know if you had any insight.”

I shake my head. I don’t have insight into the brains of people like Lanie and I don’t particularly envy people who do. I have better things to do than sympathize with weak-minded people. I don’t tell Mell this, though, because something tells me calling his partner weak-minded out loud would be a bad move on my part. He is under the impression that Lanie and I get along somewhat amicably, despite what Lanie has said about me (which is the truth), and I’d like to keep it that way.

“Lanie needs to like, smoke a bowl and chill out or something,” I end up saying out loud, putting the last of my things into the washer and starting the machine. “I don’t really know what else to say besides that. This kind of thing isn’t in my wheelhouse in terms of advice.” ‘Because I don’t have any empathy for her,’ is how I finish the thought in my head. In my opinion, Mell would do better dating someone more sure of themselves, like me. 

I sigh and take a large swig of my beer. That was over a month or so ago by now and now the two of them are inseparable. Mell mentioned to me relatively recently that they’d finally had sex and that Lanie was actually wild in bed. That came as a surprise because she seems like a deer in the fucking headlights to me, but also I’ve only really met her that once. She hasn’t wanted to be around me since then, which is fine.

Scooter breaks me from my Lanie thought spiral as he comes into the room, wiping his hands on a washcloth. “Brownies are in the oven. So how’s work going for you so far, Squid?” He asks. 

I shrug a noncommittal shrug. “It’s a lot to handle but I like the work I’m doing. It can get really heavy though.”

“I bet,” Scooter says with a frown. 

I nod and drain the rest of my beer. “It’s really late, Mell must just be sleeping over at Lanie’s again tonight again,” I say, unable to hide the bitterness in my voice.

Izaak groans and throws a sofa pillow at me. “Give it a rest. His mom got diagnosed with terminal cancer two days ago.” I frown, feeling guilty now. His mom is so sweet, I’m gutted about her diagnosis and can’t imagine how destroyed Mell is. He told us briefly over the phone before him and Lanie went to bed the day it happened. It makes sense he’d want the support of his partner. I just wish I was that partner. “You’ll at least see him at his next fight.”

I throw the pillow back but my aim is horrible and knocks Izaak’s beer bottle off the coffee table onto the floor. I ignore Izaak’s noise of frustration. It’s not like anything spilled from the empty fuckin’ bottle anyway. “I’m going outside to smoke a cigarette,” I announce, “And then might take an Uber to Triple B. It’s only 1:30, they’re open ‘til three tonight, right?”

“Yeah,” Scooter says with a nod, “And when you inevitably come home wasted later this fine Saturday morning there will be fresh-ish brownies waiting for you.” He smirks at me. “You’re welcome.”

I snort. “You’re a fucking dork,” I laugh, “I only do that on the weekends.” 

Scooter shrugs. “Just don’t fall asleep on the bathroom floor when you get home. You did that the other day after you had a particularly hard day at work and it was annoying getting you onto the couch so I could shower.”

I slap my legs and get to my feet, ignoring what he’s saying. The day he’s talking about involved a lot of sifting through some pretty awful content and I had to witness twice the amount of graphic shit than what I usually have to visually deal with. I got blackout drunk to deal with all of it. “Well, I’ll see you all later.”

“Bye,” Scooter and Izaak say in unison, Scooter frowning.