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I heard Finn and Theo asking each other what the fuck was up with Xavier once or twice. They haven’t heard from him in a while either, but I can’t rid myself of the pit in my stomach. This gnawing voice in my head telling me the world is about to end.
If it hasn’t already.
The day after I gave Xav all of me, Dia came by my house with two pounds of pistachio ice cream, asking for an explanation, and I bared my heart to her.
Told her about the confessions and pretended I didn’t even know who Zac was myself. That’s not my secret to tell. I cried, she cried. Then I told her I slept with Xavier, and she freaked out, squealing that she knew something was going on between us since the night he gave me a ride.
She swore on her dads’ lives that she wouldn’t tell a soul about my secret identity, and I believe her. She also tried reassuring me about Xavier’s disappearing act. Said he had to have a good reason since he’s also been ghosting his friends.
As much as I’d love to believe her, his silence doesn’t sit right with me. My messages all bare the dreaded “Read” receipt.
He saw my texts…
He’s choosing not to answer me.
I’m scrolling through the private group, that gained over a hundred new members this week alone, with a cringe when my phone buzzes with a new text.
My hopes crash and burn at the sender.
Dia.
Dia: WHAT THE FUCK? HAVE YOU SEEN THIS?
I notice she attached the URL to an Instagram post, and anxiety blankets me from head to toe. I’m convinced the picture on the other side is going to wreck me before I’ve even clicked the link. Emptying my lungs with one exhale, I tap the URL.
Then I die inside.
The link displays Brie’s new Instagram picture.
Xavier is there.
Sitting on Finn’s couch in a dark T-shirt, his muscled, bulging arms knotted around Brie’s waist. Dia said the gang was meeting up at Finn’s tonight, but she couldn’t make it. He’s painfully gorgeous. With his natural tan, light brown hair slicked back, his square, masculine jaw sharper than a knife. He’s like a beautiful dream I never saw coming.
But boy, did I notice when he left.
Brie is sitting on his lap in a white skirt and pink tube top, her arms wrapped around his neck as they lose themselves into a deep, passionate kiss.
They look so happy.
So… in love.
My gaze travels to the caption below Brie’s post, and my heart cracks open at the four little words on my screen.
“Back where he belongs.”
* * *
By the time Friday rolls around, I’m over it.
Over him.
Well… kind of.
Fine, I’m lying, but I didn’t lash out and burn down his house yet, so I’d say… all things considered… I’m doing fairly well. I spent all night after seeing Brie’s Instagram picture wallowing in bed, trying not to cry until I was in physical pain, but I didn’t text Xavier once.
Didn’t curse him out.
Didn’t tell him I never should’ve trusted him.
