Page 66 of Little Monster
What I do have are bruises around both wrists, and seeing them makes a wave of sadness crash through me. I touch one gently, feel the slight ache, and remember how Dex wrapped his chain around my delicate skin, how he pulled my arms over my head and took me to the peak of ecstasy.
Pushing the image away, I swipe the screen to unlock it and navigate to my social media feed, too exhausted to stop myself.
And it’s a terrible,terribledecision.
Because the very first thing I see is Dex—with Serena White on his arm.
They’re leaving some stupid-expensive restaurant, and he looks so good I physically ache.
Beside him, Serena is perfection. She’s wearing a red dress and strappy heels, and her blond hair gleams in the paparazzi’s flashing lights. Dex has one hand up, trying to shield himself from the lights, but Serena is looking straightinto the camera, smiling like she knows just how gorgeous she is.
Because she does.
My gaze drifts to the notification bubble in the upper-right corner, and again, against my better judgement, I tap it.
Immediately, my screen is overflowing with messages about how pathetic I am and how Dex finally came to his senses and went back to Serena. I know I should stop, but my thumb keeps scrolling, and each hateful message drives the knife deeper and deeper into my heart.
The last message does me in.
Like we didn’t all know where this was going.
And it hurts because it’s true. I saw it, and so did everyone else. But I let myself become blinded by Dex, by his casual confidence and easy conversation, by the taste of his skin and his weight between my thighs.
The phone starts to ring, and it’s my mom. I still haven’t called her back, but she’s texted a few times. I can’t keep ignoring her like this.
So I clear my throat, sit up in bed, and put the phone on speaker.
“Hello?” I say, trying not to let my voice betray the pain squeezing my chest in a vise.
There’s a moment of silence, and then, “Nora, what’s wrong?”
I thought I was all cried out, but the tears are making a comeback, and they’re coursing down my cheeks again.
“Baby, what happened?” Her voice is so soft, so comforting.
I can’t hold this all in. Someone needs to know—how I loved him, and how he broke my heart.
So I tell her. I tell herallof it.
IT’S MARCH NOW, AND DEX still hasn’t reached out.
I went to the fitting for the music video two weeks ago, and when Ashton saw me, the first thing she did was wrap me in a hug. It’s not like I ever told her about what was happening between me and Dex, but she seemed to know, and her embrace made me feel seen, especially considering Dex is acting like I no longer exist.
I’d hoped to enjoy the fitting, to be excited about all the pretty clothes I’ll get to wear, but I sat through it silently, let them measure me and discuss colors and fabrics until a woman whose name I never did ask waved me down from the platform and told me I was done. I couldn’t wait to get away from the mirror; the whole time I stood there looking into it, all I could see were flaws: my dull brown hair, the scars on my cheeks from acne I had in high school, my pale legs. And then I thought of Serena, of her vibrance and beauty and perfection, and it almost brought me to tears again.
Now I’m driving to some address Ashton texted me, and I’m feeling more nervous than I did the first time I went to play with the band.
We’re filming the music video today. Dex is going to be there, and we still haven’t spoken a word to each other since that morning. My stomach feels like it wants to be sick, andI barely ate anything for breakfast because my nausea was so bad.
What am I going to say to him? Will he even speak to me? Will he pretend like nothing happened between us?
His voice whispers in my mind,I wanna be your first everything.
How could he say that to me? It felt like an invitation, like a promise.
And that very next night, less than twenty-four hours after tucking me into bed beside him, he was out with Serena fucking White.
My hands tighten on the steering wheel as a wave of pain and anger washes over me.
