Page 61 of The Photograph

Goddammit. Stop. You don’t need this.But the little voice in my head won’t stop taunting me. I need something, anything, to blow off this kettle of steam that’s building like a tornado. My eyes flit over the bare walls and the Persian carpet. The idea of being here tonight on my own … I can’t sit on the couch or go to bed, I’mnotthat guy. Wearing myself out—physically, mentally—until I’m no longer running a Technicolor film of Tom and Alex is what I need. Dropping out of my brain and dancing until 3 a.m.

George. Despite the drama, he’s my go-to ignore-the-world-let’s-party person. And it’s 10 p.m.Perfect.

Wild night out!

I type in, and my finger hovers over the button. Do I want to do this? I close my eyes and press.

Within seconds, a winking emoji comes back, followed by a text.

Hey Des, Steve here.

Steve? OnGeorge’sphone? Steve has been a sexual partner of George’s for a long time. He hooks up as much as George does, and he’s one of the reasons we broke up. George was always sneaking off to have sex with him, along with other people, but far from hating Steve, I found myself in the strange position of liking him. He works at a non-profit and is this lovely, friendly, cuddly guy who you’d have to be a monster to hate. The other irony here is that he’s totally reliable—clear about the sex he has with everyone, and always turning up when he’s said he will.

Unfortunately, when George and I were together, Steve mentioned in passing to me that they were hooking up, thinking I knew and was fine with it. He didn’t understand what the issue was when I got upset and split up with George. George still hasn’t admitted he was sleeping with Steve. Ugh. Maybe the problem was all mine. But I know myself. When I’m in a relationship, I’m not strong enough not to wonder about how close my boyfriend might be with someone else, to not worry about beingcompared. Wouldn’t everyone do this?

George is in the shower, BUT I AM SO UP FOR A PARTY!

Steve types, then:

Whatever other plans he has, I’ll persuade him.

Ha! I bet they just got out of bed. I smirk a little. George will no doubt have filled him in on Alex. Am I going to tell either of them what’s happened?

My reflection stares back at me in the hall mirror, and I tip my head down to examine the blond curls. I need to vamp it up. Tonight I’m ignoring everything: how I feel, all the problems. Tonight is just for me.

An hour later, I’m standing outside the subway station in tight inky jeans with a matching black vest showing off my chest and arms. No wondering-why-I’m-here this evening: I’m getting out of my head. Glancing down at my phone for messages, I lift my head when a loud whoop bounces off the buildings up the street.

George and Steve are reeling toward me, drunk as skunks. A smile creeps across my face.

“Dessy!” George says with a shriek and pulls me into a warm hug.Honestly, these guys. You wouldn’t know he was pissed off with me. It’s all overblown drama one minute and forgotten history the next.

“Get off him, he’s mine,” Steve says, using his large bulk to push George to one side as he picks me up and spins me around.

“Man, it’s way too long since I saw your ugly face,” he says, putting me back on the ground and groping my ass. I grin at him and smooch his cheek.

“We are down to party!” George shouts, dancing over the sidewalk and into the street. A couple of lawyer types in suits who are walking along stare at him askance. He blows them a kiss.

“I love this part of town,” he slurs, reeling back in and kissing me on the lips. I don’t even mind.

And the club is packed when we get in there, hot and heavy and hardly room to breathe: bodies swaying to the thumping beat. Fighting our way onto the floor, Steve pulls his very sweaty vest away from his chest and fans his face.

“We are going to need wa-ter!” he yells over the music.

Some guy dangles a small plastic bag in my face, and I shake my head as I push past him into the center of the dancefloor. And as we dance and drink, the evening gets more and more blurry. I’m pressed up against a lot of bodies, buoyed along by the crowd, hands everywhere. Steve puts his lips to my ear and tells me how much he’s always loved my chest. George presses something into my hand at some point, and I don’t even think twice before I pop it in my mouth.

A bright light is shining in my eyes.

“How long has he been like this?” The voice echoes like it’s coming from the bottom of a trash can. I try to raise my arm to cover the glare, but it doesn’t seem to work.

“Shaking for about a half hour.”George.His voice comes at me from a great distance.

“Has he taken something?”

The voices fade.

I’m fine.If I sit up, I can just tell them I’m fine. But my body is stuck to the floor somehow, and when I attempt to move, a loud groaning sound comes from somewhere.

“He’s been making that noise just before …”

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