Page 33 of Lucy and Her Wicked Three

She's spent time with Silas. She's been with Mateo for months. But I'm different from the other guys. They possess a kind of confidence most people spend a lifetime trying to achieve. They can walk right up to a woman and make her smile or open up. I've never been like that.

It's just a silly text message. But her lack of response feels personal.

The years I've spent with Mateo and Silas only highlight the stark contrast between their stronger masculine energy and my own more subtle nature.

On the rare occasion at Atrium when we go off on our own, I know I'm the only one of the three of us who ever messed around with other men. And though my friends never made me feel like I couldn't talk to them about it, if they even noticed what I was up to, I couldn't explain what I didn't understand myself.

I'm not gay, I know that much. Fluid feels right, but even then, I feel anxious trying to come to terms with my identity. Sex is sex, and I like what I like. And while I've spent so much time at Atrium and with friends and around other accepting and like-minded people who don't care how I identify, it feels like that adds even more pressure to just pick a lane and it's fucking stifling.

My friends being supportive of my sexuality is one thing. Trying to date someone like Lucy and hope she accepts me is another.

I know it's fucking useless and stupid to spiral, but the brain does what it does. It takes me a while, vacillating between self-pity, frustration and worry for Lucy, but I eventually get lost in my work.

Sometime before dawn, I fall asleep.

Chapter 13

Lucy

Maybe because I trusted Mateo, or maybe it was because I'd been intimate and exposed in a way I'd never been before, but I felt comfortable around Silas. I kept expecting my anxiety to pull me under, to stress and overthink and worry about what he was thinking, to feel embarrassment over what happened the night before. But all I felt was ease. He played video games; we talked. I relaxed around him.

I never would have guessed that Silas and Noah were friends with Mateo if I hadn't seen them together. Mateo's never shown that side of himself to me. Teasing, almost. He's always so serious and put together, seemingly the opposite of his friends. And I love that about him, but I liked that soft side too, the vulnerability he showed when he admitted what he wanted from me, from his friends.

I'm still not sure I believe it was all real. These kinds of things don't happen in real life. Your beautiful, rich, intense boyfriend doesn't ask you to date his friends. Maybe, if they're into degradation, if they want a gang bang, or to show you off and share. But this felt bigger than fleeting sexual gratification. Silas showing up to hang out made it real, proving it was about more than sex.

The morning after Silas visited, I was still wrapping my head around everything. Missing Mateo more than ever, and after theway I overreacted when he brought me home, I wanted him to know I was okay, but I was toeing the line with my anxiety, could feel it crawling under my skin, so I had trouble picking up my phone.

I didn't sleep well and as the sun came up I lay in bed, wide awake, and all the what-if's flooded in. What if I misunderstood what they wanted from me? What if they change their mind, or I do? What happens to me and Mateo, then? What if this is the dumbest idea of my life and I'm setting myself up for failure?

The more I let myself think, the worse things got. My phone sat face down on my dresser and I walked past it, stared at it for nearly a minute, then forced myself to keep walking, ignoring the pull to pick it up.

I could post something,anything, with a caption about how hard life is and how not everything is perfect all the time. I'd add hashtags and filters, make the image morose, perfectly capturing my stress, and then I'd sit back and let the comments flood in, reveling in the gratifying relief that I'm not alone, letting the notifications soothe my ego.

And the comments would be real. People would understand. That's the drawback, the problem with the vicious cycle of posting content. It's not all fake. It really is a place you can find people feeling what you're feeling.

The pull from my phone gets harder and harder to ignore until I finally give in around noon. I have to get the address for dinner tonight from Silas, anyway. And I want to text Mateo, to let him know I'm okay. I really do miss him, and having an orgasm in his lap in front of his friends at a sex club didn't exactly fix our relationship, or anything else in my life.

After everything, I've realized that I'm fantastic at living in a bubble. I thought nothing could hurt me, as long as I kept slappin' on a smile and pretending like everything's fine.

Mateo didn't cheat, but I made mistakes by not recognizing Delaney's nature sooner. The pictures of them left me in total shock and despite years of practicing techniques to handle my stress and anxiety, it didn't do shit when I really needed it. I'm not okay, and something still isn't perfect in my little bubble.

Everything I tell myself is an excuse enough to pick up my phone, the little voice in the back of my head telling me I should make one tiny self-deprecating post, so people know I'm not okay.

I just want my old life back. The one from over a week ago, before Delaney ruined my self-confidence, before my boyfriend propositioned me for a foursome, metaphorically exploding my brain.

Just as I'm flipping past the notifications, ignoring all the comments and tags for the time being, I see a text from an unknown number from last night, but before I can open it, there's a banging on the door.

Dropping my phone back down on the dresser, I walk down the hall and pause, wondering if it's Mateo or Silas, or even Noah. Another bang, so I continue on and peek through the peephole.

I grip the door handle harder than necessary and swing it open. "Whatdo you want? How did you even get up here?"

Delaney rolls her eyes. She smells like patchouli, her bracelets jingling as she brushes past me into the kitchen. I slam the door shut and turn to face her. I cannot believe she has the audacity to show up here.

"I'm still on the list of approved visitors." She sips her smoothie out of a plastic straw, touching things on my counter top, like she has the right to snoop around and make herself at home.

"I'm serious, Delaney. What are you doing here?"

"What? We can't still be friends?" She cocks her head, sipping green liquid through a straw and I am so confused, I sputter.

---