It took some time and a few drinks, but I had finally gone through two out of the three names from Connor’s text message. They really were his friends, but the last one, Taylor, was not a guy at all. She had posted a picture from the very same rooftop bar on the very same day. Now that I knew to look for her I noticed that she had commented on most of his photos and liked all of them. They seemed close, but nothing too incriminating was posted. I still found it suspicious. 

I got more and more worried about it, and my mind was getting muddled with not just these paranoid thoughts, but also the alcohol I was consuming. Should I go through Connor’s phone to see what kind of relationship he had with this Taylor girl? Were they really just friends? If so, why was he always telling me guys and girls couldn’t just be friends? My mind kept going back to needing to see proof that they were just friends. I was writing a text message and deleting it and then writing it again. Could I really ask him directly or should I ask to see his phone? No, I couldn’t… Or could I? Was it too desperate? Should I go through his phone in secret? Then he wouldn’t know I was being distrusting…but what if I got caught? Ugh. My head was spinning. His phone…I need to access his phone… messages… I closed my eyes and tried to take deep breaths. Even if I wanted to access his phone in secret, I couldn’t. I didn’t know his passcode. In a moment of weakness, after a fight last year, I had tried to open his phone. I had tried every number combination I could think of, like my birthday, his birthday, our anniversary, the day we met and so on, but none of them worked. The only passcodes I knew were my own and Austin’s. Additionally, Austin had added my fingerprint to his phone so I didn’t actually even need to memorize the code, I could just open it with my finger. I often forgot to charge my phone, so it was convenient to be able to use his phone whenever I wanted when we hung out. But we had nothing to hide from each other, we were best friends. 

In the end, I end up texting Connor to feel him out. 

Ella: So, remember that place you went with your friends… what was it called again? 

Connor: I don’t remember, some sports bar.   

Ella: Didn’t you say you went to a gastropub?

Connor: Oh, right. I don’t remember, I’ll look it up later. 

Ella: Who did you go with again? 

Connor: The guys. What’s this about? Why am I being interrogated? 

Ella: Nothing, just didn’t remember so I wanted to check. Can we meet up?

Connor: No, I’m busy. 

Ella: With what? 

Ella: Hello? 

Ella: Busy with what?

Ella: Why can’t we meet?

Connor doesn’t reply. I down the last of my drink, thinking I need to get to him now. To sort this out. As I pull out my car key, I realize I can’t drive since I’ve been drinking. Connor isn’t answering so I need someone to drive me. I message Austin to come pick me up. It doesn’t take him long. When Austing arrives, he looks at me with a concerned expression. 

“Everything okay, Ella?” Austin asked. 

“I don’t know.” I sighed. “Just take me to Connor’s place.”

Austin had a resigned look on his face, but didn’t ask further questions and started the car. 

As we are nearing Connor’s place I feel stupid, my head is far from cleared, but I think I might be over reacting about everything. Just then as Austin slows the car down we sport Connor outside his place, but he’s not alone, it’s her. It’s Taylor. And I watch as if not only the car is slowing down, but time as well, in horror as my worst fears come true - they kiss. Connor locks eyes with me, his eyes widening while his lips are still on her, I beg Austin to keep without my eyes ever leaving Connor’s. I feel sick. 

“I think I’m going to throw up.” I mumbled as all the drinks from earlier mix with seeing my boyfriend cheat on me. 

Not a minute later my phone is blowing up with calls and texts from Connor. It’s so ironic, because he never calls or texts me first, I always had to beg him to answer my messages and now here we are. I want to throw up and throw my phone out the car window, maybe even throw myself away. Instead I turn my phone off and my feelings. 

“Let’s get wasted.” I said to Austin.

“Amy’s?” Austin suggested my friend’s bar. I nodded. 

At Amy’s bar I drown my sorrows and Austin joins me, matching me drink for drink, even though he’s a lightweight. The last thing I remember before completely blacking out is Amy’s worried look as she pours me another shot and Austin slurring his words telling me it’ll all be okay.