Page 72 of Ink Me Three Times
"What? All of you?" My voice comes out higher than I meant it to, laced with disbelief. Probably panic too.
He nods slowly, and I swear I feel the world tilt just a little.
His gaze is calm, but it only makes the chaos in my chest feel louder.
How could I have missed this? I thought I was confused… but I assumed it was just me stuck in this whirlwind.
Not them. Notallof them.
I can’t tell if I want to laugh or cry or maybe run into the woods and scream.
"But Mitchell…" I begin, grasping at the one name that makes the least sense, “He’s been so cold. He’s barely talked to me since that night. I thought maybe I did something wrong.”
Because that’s what I do, blame myself when things get weird. When people pull away.
It’s easier to carry the guilt than to imagine it’s something deeper and more complicated.
Timothy exhales, the sound soft. "Yeah. That’s how he is. Mitchell doesn’t do well with emotions. He shuts down. But don’t take it personally. He’s not like Freddie or me. He handles things... differently."
Differently is one way to put it.
Mitchell practically disappeared after that night. Not a text. Not a glance. Just silence.
And now I’m supposed to believe that he cares? That he feels something and just… swallowed it whole?
My heart feels like it’s cracking open in slow motion.
"And Freddie?" I ask, quieter this time, like saying his name might summon a storm I’m not ready for. "He’s been distant too. And we barely talked this morning. I thought... I thought we were good."
Timothy looks uncomfortable now, rubbing the back of his neck. "Freddie’s been... on edge. We’ve been arguing because we don’t know how to handle any of this."
Wait,arguing?
"You guys have been fighting because ofme?"
There it is. That ugly twist in my gut. The shame. The dread. I hate this.
"Yeah," Timothy admits, and it’s like someone’s dropped a stone straight into my stomach. "It’s complicated, Ivy."
Yeah, no kidding.
I want to scream at the sky. Or maybe scream at all of them. Or maybe just… curl up somewhere no one can find me until I figure out what the hell I feel.
Because this isn’t some teenage love triangle.
It’s a tangle of friendships, loyalties, unspoken moments, and unsent messages.
And now I’m standing in the middle of it all, with no clue how to move forward without breaking something.
Or someone.
Timothy's still talking, his voice gentle. "Of course, you know I really like you."
And suddenly I feel like I can’t breathe again.
This was supposed to be a walk. A way to clear my head.
But now the fog’s thicker than ever.
