Page 33 of Beautiful Delusions

“You deserve this, Sophia!”

“Show the world who they’re fucking with!” A stream of laughter floats from me, a smile cracking across my lips just as the camera flashes. The applause grows louder as the boys start to move, a mini procession rushing through the rows to meet me at the bottom of the steps. I launch myself at them, becoming locked in their arms. Kisses pepper my cheeks and forehead, words of encouragement filling my ears.

My smile refuses to fade, the tears streaming from my eyes no longer from the anticipation of a bittersweet goodbye. The Thorn Brothers saved me from myself. They’ve fixed me, given me the tools to attack life with my head held high. These tears are joyous ones because even though I know I’m walking out of this hall alone, it’s with something other people spend their entire lives searching for. Love in my heart.

One Year Later.

“So basically, your standard FMC is down on her luck, loses her job, catches her boyfriend with her boss. So she grabs a bag and leaves, only to find a mysterious invitation later in the bottom of the bag,” I rush out in one excited breath, my eyes wide and cheeks flushed. Gripping the bound pages in my hands, I thrust them towards the panel infront of me. “Said invitation leads her to a club where she’s locked in overnight on the Wrath floor with a group of MMA fighters. It was everything our department typically looks for, and then some!”

“I can see you enjoyed it,” my boss, Frank chuckles. I’ve been at this publishing house for several months now, finding my niche in the dark romance department.

“Enjoyed it? I devoured it in less than twelve hours!” It’s sad, but true. Pretty much since I left work last night with the manuscript tucked beneath my arm, up until I needed to have a triple espresso and stagger back into the office today. And it was worth every second.

“I highly recommend we publish everything this author touches. She has a way of combining angst, lust, multiple love interests, intricate plots and twists into everything she writes. We’d be fools to pass up such an opportunity.”

“Your advice and enthusiasm are duly noted, Sophia. Let me talk figures with my team, and I’ll let you be the one to put in the call.” I cover my mouth, but the squeal escapes anyway. My boss looks up with a light in his eyes, one I used to know rather well. My mind tries to wander but the shadow on the other side of the glass door beckons me to step away for now. Thanking the panel for indulging me forty-five minutes longer than intended, I step out into the hallway, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Well, how did it go?” my best friend asks. Once upon a time, it would have been Jazzie keeping me company, but those days are over. I turn and throw myself into Letty’s arms.

“Amazingly! They’re going to sign the author to us. You know what that means,” I wiggle the manuscript. “I get first look at all of her works from now on!”

“Okay well, as happy as I am for you–it’s well past lunchtime, and it’s Taco Tuesday. Only a true friend would wait around thislong for you to finish blabbing out the entire storyline of the book she’s pitching.”

“I didn’t blab the whooooole story, I didn’t say anything about the gut-wrenching, heartbreaking twist where–”

“Yeah, yeah. You can talk at the side of my face while I eat,” Letty rolls her eyes. Sliding her arm into mine, she drags me down the hallway and past Becca, who is sitting at my assistant desk, waiting to give me a whole stack of post-it notes to check through. I give her a small smile while Letty forces me into the opulent elevator. This past year has been a whirlwind of hard work and lucky breaks.

After graduation, I was hired on the spot at my first interview, and the following Monday, I was sitting in a booth beside Letty. We’ve managed to rise through the ranks together, growing closer day by day until we officially became roommates. Our apartment is what I like to call, miniature chic. The abstract painting which Isabella Thorn sent over takes up our entire living room wall. We’re rarely home anyway, always working overtime as editorial directors. Although, I don’t mind as we can allow ourselves certain freedoms. One including longer lunch breaks and all at the company’s expense.

Her stomach is growling as we rush through the main lobby, glass reflecting across the marbled flooring. The sunlight isn’t deceiving, as we tumble into the busy street and sigh at the warmth of summer. We fly to Europe next week, touring Italy from Venice to Rome and everywhere in between. I can’t wait, and the best part–I don’t have to declare all of my medication each time I fly anymore.

The Thorn Brothers did many things to my body, and my mind, but the one I’ll always hold dear is boosting my self-worth. I haven’t touched an antipsychotic since my Waversea days, swapping my remedy of choice to therapy instead. Along with Dr. Ramsey, we’ve delved deep into my need to surround myselfwith imaginary characters. They were a defense mechanism, and like fight-or-flight, the height of my unease triggered them.

Now, I only see Jazzie when I want to. To tell me if an outfit looks good or if I should have another shot. She keeps me on the precariously thin line between good and devilishly naughty. I haven’t had any other characters assault me since–not from books at least. Lucas, Ezra and Kyan…they often bleed from my dreams into everyday life, just to remind me how amazing our twelve weeks together were.

“Earth to Sophia, I was talking to you about Italy,” Letty snaps her fingers before my eyes. I blink rapidly, realizing we’re at the restaurant next door already. A cute, small establishment which is always heaving. Waving to the owner behind the bar, the middle-aged jolly man chastises us for being late.

“Blame it on me,” I smile sweetly, navigating the occupied seats to our reserved table in the back. Thanks to the weather, the sliding doors have been pulled back, with only a small fence dividing our seats from the street outside. “Okay, talk to me–I’m ready,” I nod, laying a cloth napkin over my lap to protect the expensive pantsuit.

“So, packing,” Letty continues, “I was thinking to only take little summer dresses and interchangeable sandals. Easy access for the Italian lovers I’m going to find,” she winks. It’s my turn to roll my eyes.

“As long as you don’t bring them back to the hostel. We’re sharing a bunk bed.” A basket of breadsticks is placed between us, one automatically finding its way to my hand. Chewing absentmindedly, I start off thinking about how many books on the ‘to-be-read’ list I’ll be able to get through on my eReader whilst away, but soon divert to thinking about this apparent heat wave. I wonder if Lucas will be affected by it too. I wonder a lot of things about Lucas, mainly if he’s okay.

I’ve purposely avoided searching him up online, knowing his wedding would have made the news. Ezra and Kyan too, no doubt, have gone on to take the world by storm. Championship basketball players, dating A-list celebrities, attending all the latest premieres and award ceremonies. Luxurious lives for lavish men, and I’m happy for them. Truly. What we had–all four of us–was incredible, beyond my wildest delusions, and memories I will always treasure.

But life goes on. I meant something to them once, but not anymore. I have no claim to Lucas, and without him–it wouldn’t feel right with the others. No, I promised myself not to dwell, only appreciate.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Letty groans. “Will you stop drooling all over that breadstick? Is my voice really so bland that you zone out every time I speak?” I chuckle, Letty’s words reminding me of Mrs. Patrick. I spent the second half of the semester imagining her as a squawking dodo after Ezra rushed me through the coursework with weeks to spare.

“Take it as a compliment, your voice is just too melodic.” Sharing a smile, a waitress brings us two mojitos on the house. We shouldn’t really drink whilst on our lunch break, but Letty and I are already in full vacation mode. It’s only Tuesday, yet we’ve finished all of our tasks way ahead of schedule. Those which need revising later in the week, we’ve delegated to interns.

“Do you miss them?” Letty asks, catching me off guard as I sip my drink. I don’t need to ask who she means–the three men Ineverspeak of out loud. Although I’m certain, she hears me moaning their names in my sleep through the walls of our apartment.

“Of course I do. I know it’s stupid–” I sigh.

“It’s not stupid at all.” Letty’s brown gaze holds a rare seriousness. “I saw them with the other Pets. They were different with you.” I know this. Even without ever seeing the brothersglance at anyone else, I could feel how in tune they were with me. Like our hearts all beat to the same drum; it was easy, it was natural. We studied together at the dining table, worked out together in the private gym, and made endless love on any available surface. And even when our time was coming close to an end, there was no bitterness. Only understanding.

“Remember how you almost missed your finals?” Letty chuckles, and I groan.

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