Page 52 of One Lovely Lie

I’m panting, sweating, and thoroughly debauched

“Fuck, that was good,” he breathes through the line. “I miss you so much.”

I chuckle—out of breath—and use a dirty t-shirt to clean myself up. “I’ll be home in two weeks.”

“Two weeks too long.”He groans.“Everything is so weird here. The guys, Thaxton—”

The name stops me in my tracks. “Excuse me?”

“What?”

“Thaxton?”

I hear him sigh and can just picture him pinching the bridge of his nose. “Baby, don’t think like that. We just talked—”

“Talked about what, Magnus?” I ask, sitting up straighter, feeling the need to drag on my boxers. “Why were you even talking to him?”

There’s a pause. “Well…he wanted to pick up where we left off.”

I can feel my heartbeat in my ears. All the blood rushes to my face, heating my cheeks with rage. Jealousy is such an interesting creature. It’s irrational, confrontational, and delusional. It makes people say and do the stupidest things.

So, it’s no surprise that it does all of that and more to me.

“And did you?”

“What? Of course, not,” he snaps. “How can you even fucking ask that?”

“Because a few months ago he was riding your dick every day!”

“Don’t be jealous!”

“I’m not jealous! I’m furious!”

“Nothing happened! Don’t you believe me?”

“I—”

And the last couple of years come barreling into me. I know that Magnus would never do anything to hurt me, but the memories are so vivid and painful. They sting like salt being poured into open wounds.

Him losing his virginity to Sara and telling me all the details.

The first time he was with a guy and realized he liked them more than girls.

The four months he spent with Jackson, giving me a play-by-play of every salacious moment.

Making out with Donna next to my presents at my fifteenth birthday party.

Fucking Mark in the bathroom of my sixteenth birthday party.

Walking in on him fucking someone else not once, not twice, butthreetimes.

All the moments that I wasn’t enough. All the suffering I endured. All the nights I would cry myself to sleep because he was choosing everybody but me.

Maybe I’m still not enough. Not experienced enough, not perfect enough, just notenough.

Unfortunately, my walk down memory lane is taken as something other than what it truly is, a reflection of my own pathetic insecurities. I go to speak, to say something that won’t paint me as the loser I am, but Magnus beats me to it.

“Oh, wow. You know what, fuck you.”

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