Page 88 of Burn It Down
18
Lightbulb: Bree was in love with me. Not Finn.
I was sitting at the coffee shop, trying to forget it all for a moment. I had a client waiting for prints, and I was happily working through shots. Finn's sweet gesture had turned into a bankable business. It also gave me the last piece I needed to fit this fucking puzzle together.
Since I was a kid, I always lugged around a camera. Ancient Polaroid’s, digitals, or the oh-so-trendy Fuji instapix. I took photos all the time at school events and when hanging out with friends.
I had photo boxes full and plenty of scrapbooks from years of my life. I led a good life, no doubt. Bree lived for her photo to be taken, but often insisted I be in the shots with her. Bree also took photos constantly; often of a seedier style. Either way, it bonded us.
The summer we spent overseas, we had taken thousands of photos. No joke. We hit all the touristy spots and plenty of everything else. Cameras in hand every single day. We both took shots and would spend hours going through them each night.
Those last few weeks, it had been different. I was the object of many of her photos, and if Bree was in a shot, so was I. I still had most of those photos backed up in my cloud.
I saw that folder of memories while sifting through my client folders. Nostalgia made me do it. I was angry and hurt with her still, but something compelled me to look. For a while, it filled me with remorse.
Where wasthatBree? The one who laughed and talked with me for hours? Why did she want to hurt me so deeply? What had I ever done to her but love her? Then I came across a set I didn’t recognize.
“Our last night in Rome.” I whispered aloud as I began clicking through photos.
We were in the flat we had rented, and bottles of wine strewn about. I sat close to Bree, who had her slender arm around my neck. Her face burrowed into my hair as she snapped a photo with her other hand. Clicking through more, I covered my mouth in shock.
Clearly, the drunker I got, the more affection I welcomed. By the time we had emptied a crate of wine, evidenced by the many bottles littering the table, I seemed unaware of the lines I never blurred between Bree and I.
We were kissing and laughing, and Bree gazed at me in a way I had never noticed. Later shots showed us cuddled in bed, both of us naked. Bree documented each moment she ripped away the fragments of friendship we’d had.
By the time I reached the shots of her head between my legs, my head thrown back and my body clearly in the throes of orgasm, I knew. Bree not only fucked Finn, she fucked me too.
Both figuratively and literally, it seemed.
I was wracked with guilt and weighed down with rotten disgust. Just like that, the pieces started to come together. I had been so fucking blind. A folder of forgotten photos pieced together the timeline of us falling apart.
Why Bree had stayed and roomed with me. With hopes of picking up where we had left off in Rome. The way she chased off any man who showed an interest by ruining them for me. Not because she was jealous of me; because she was jealous of them.
“Bree is in love with me. What. The. Fuck.” I loved Bree once, but somehow not enough to have seen this coming.
The stalking had to be her. A final valiant effort to keep me and Finn apart. When it clearly hadn’t worked by pinning it on Jordan Dexter, Bree kicked it up a notch. The photos of her and Finn, the dirty messages to us both. It was all Bree. Well, maybe not all.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I was making a phone call. I had to hear what he had to say. How he was involved, because whether he realized it or not, he was. The phone rang just once, and I rolled my eyes at his eagerness.
“Hey, Gorgeous. What’s up?” I knew they were tangled up in this together.
“You said Finn and Bree’s situation. Explain. I see your cute little green Mini Cooper all the time, Dexter. Too often for it to be a coincidence in a city like Chicago. Either you’re stalking me or enabling Bree to do so. I don’t want to wreck your career. I will if I have to. I’m not going to let you or Bree ruin what I have with Finn. Start talking.” There was a pause, then he did start talking.
“I liked you, Gigi. Really liked you. Bree always told me you talked about me and that Finn was no good for you. I thought I might get to play knight in shining armor or some shit. After that day at the coffee shop, I waited a few days. Thought he might just break your heart again. Then Bree came to my office; told me to fight for you. That you wanted someone to fight for you. I liked you Gigi, but I wasn’t going to fight someone for you; especially not someone like Finn. I, uh…we fucked in my office, and I don’t know…I think Bree must be the queen of using her pussy to control someone. I followed her around like a fucking dog.” I sighed because he wasn’t wrong; I’d seen her use and abuse guys that way before.
Girl must be good.
Apparently, I should know. Might hurt her ego when she finds out I can’t remember a single moment of it. Guess I could ask Finn if she was any good. That should be a fun conversation. Hey, love of my fucking life, man I want to marry, just how good is my best friend’s pussy? I can’t remember, exactly. Good talk.
“The calls, the texts. Following us. You or her?” I knew the answer, but wanted it confirmed.
“Her. Gigi, I thought it was because she was protecting you from Finn. Thought, man, she’s one of a kind, a friend like that. That day I saw you last, I didn’t exactly lie. I hadn’t seen Bree in a while because she had gone off the rails. Became obsessed when nothing we did drove you two apart. I thought she might be in love with Finn. Then, one day…she went on this rant when I asked. Told me she was doing this for you. For. You. To get you.” I was shoving my shit into my messenger back, listening to him sigh.
“Thanks for nothing, Dexter. You realize she is still following me, obsessing, trying to tear us apart. You could have told me, you dick. Is her pussy that fucking good?” I raged but he just laughed.
“According to Bree, yours certainly is. Maybe I should be asking you that, Gigi?” Sick fuck. I ended the call and rushed towards the L.
I had a client in a few hours so I started to call to reschedule. When I did, I realized I had a ton of missed messages. Ridiculous amounts, some dating a few weeks back. The fuck? Sinking into a bench at my L stop, I began scrolling through them. From Finn, Charli, Cage, even my parents.
